Have you nothing at all to say to me?  What is to become of me, if
every one ignores me?

Your

R.

Venice.

282.

My dear Franz,

On reading my letter again, you will probably have discovered what was the meaning of my jocular complaint—­“You answer me much too pathetically and seriously.”  You must have seen by the exact terms of my letter, somewhat loosely worded though it was, that by your answer I meant the manner in which you speak of my conduct towards D. with regard to “Rienzi.”  As this part of my letter has remained obscure to you, I add the following words of explanation.  My letter about the withdrawal of “Rienzi” was written with a view to being shown, because I had referred D. to you.  I thought, however, you would see that I was annoyed by the difficulties he made about the honorarium, and by the remote date for which payment was promised.  I was in hopes that my letter discussing the withdrawal of the opera would help me quickly to the honorarium, and perhaps increase the amount a little.  I had unfortunately reckoned upon this income before the new year, and relied upon it all the more because I had on a former occasion explained my difficult position to your sympathetic heart.  When I forwarded D.’s last letter to you my intention was to complain of his pedantic statement:  “The honorarium will be paid to you after the first performance,”—­a statement to which I am no longer accustomed at any other theatre.  I further hoped to induce you—­ as indeed I clearly indicated—­to effect at least the immediate payment of the honorarium.  As my letter about the withdrawal of “Rienzi” was written with a view to being shown, it may very likely have puzzled you; but I know that it was intended only to frighten D., and to supply you with a weapon for forcing him into a decent and business-like attitude.  In consequence, I hoped that the success of this little manoeuvre would secure me the receipt of the wretched twenty-five louis d’or before the new year.  Upon this sum I looked as my only certainty, because you were there to get it for me, while the moneys which I expected from other quarters represented only so many hopes which might be delusive.  At last New Year’s Eve came.  My money was all gone; my watch, the snuff-box of the Grand Duke, and the bonbonniere of the Princess, the only valuables I possess, had been pawned; and of the money I had got for them only one and a half napoleons remained.  When, on New Year’s Eve, on entering my lonely room, I found your letter, I confess I was weak enough to hope that it would announce to me the imminent arrival of the twenty-five louis d’or, in consequence of the successful demonstration against D. which I thought I had made.  Instead of this, I found, in reference to this matter, a serious explanation of your relations with D., which, as I see from this letter, have already become matter of bitter and troublesome