eydet Villa Beausejour,

Paris-Passy.

_Cafe d'Orsay: 11 A.M. at breakfast._ EVERY two hours, and oftener if
I can, I shall send you off an interim despatch like this, as much to
relieve your anxiety, dearest, as for the pleasure of being with you
throughout this great day, which I hope will end with the news of
victory, in spite of defections at the last moment. Picheral told me
just now of a saying of Laniboire's, 'When a man enters the Academie he
wears a sword, but he does not draw it.' an allusion, of course, to the
Astier duel. It was not I who fought, but the creature cares more for
his jest than for his promise. Cannot count on Danjou, either. After
having said so often to me, 'You must join us,' this morning in the
secretary's office he came up to me and whispered, 'You should let us
miss you,' perhaps the best epigram on his list. Never mind, I'm well
ahead. My rivals are not formidable Fancy Baron Huchenard, the author of
'Cave Man,' in the Academie Francaise! Why, Paris would rise! As for M.
Dalzon, I can't think how he has the face. I have got a copy of his too
notorious book. I do not like to use it, but he had better be careful.

_2 P.M._

At the Institute, in my good master's rooms, where I shall await the
result of the voting. Perhaps it is pure imagination, but I fancy that
my arrival, though they expected me, has put them out here a little.
Our friends were finishing breakfast. There was a bustle and banging
of doors, and Corentine, instead of showing me into the drawing-room,
hustled me into the library, where my old master joined me with an
embarrassed air, and in a low voice advised me to keep extremely quiet.
He was quite depressed. I asked if he had any bad news. He said first,
'No, no, my dear boy,' and then, grasping my hand, 'Come, cheer up.' For
some time past the poor man has been much altered. He is evidently ready
to overflow with vexation and sorrow that he will not express. Probably
some deep private trouble, quite unconnected with my candidature; but I
am so nervous.

More than an hour to wait. I am amusing myself by looking across the
court through the great bay window of the meeting-room at the long rows
of busts. The Academicians! Is it an omen?

_2.45 P.M._

I have just seen all my judges go by, thirty-seven of them, if I counted
right. The full number of the Academie, since Epinchard is at Nice,
Ripault-Babin in bed, and Loisillon in the gr