Believe me, dear Franz, when I consider the advantages which my desired amnesty would offer to me, there is only one which appears to me worth a real sacrifice, I mean that of being together with you more frequently and for longer periods.  What else is there that could very strongly and decisively attract me?  Performances of my operas I should, in most instances, carefully avoid, although I might in rare and particular cases take part in first performances of my works, which would of course be very desirable.  The question, whether in that case encouragement and new strength, or grief, annoyance, and overexcitement would be the lasting effect upon me, I fear I must decide in favour of the latter alternative, and no external success, no applause, could make up for this.  If I was sensitive before, I am so now to the verge of excessive irritation, and I dread every contact with theatrical matters, singers, conductors, etc., to such a degree that I feel almost inclined to bless the fate which keeps me apart from them.  But we, we two, want to cultivate our friendship by personal intercourse; we are to each other the only enjoyment which the world can offer us.  Only think how painfully we have always been kept separated, during how few weeks of the long and beautiful years of our friendship we have looked into each other’s eyes.  This fountain of generation of inner strength and fire is fully appreciated by me, and I feel it to be the direst deprivation that I can approach it so rarely.  If you promise me this boon for Paris, you may look upon my determination to go there as certain and immutable.

Let me have a full account of yourself, dear friend; of all your troubles I hear from others, sometimes even through the newspapers.  That is not right; neither should you be too brief in your statements; it looks like want of confidence.  I want to gain a closer view so as to know how to stretch out my hand, which would comfort you with a friendly touch.  It is natural that you are too great, too noble, too beautiful, for our dear, gossipy Germany, and that you appear to the people like a god, whose splendour they are not accustomed and not inclined to bear.  It was left to you to illustrate this phenomenon, for so bright, so warm a being as yourself had never before appeared in Germany.  But I should like to know to what degree this miserable conduct touches your heart, annoys you, embitters you.  I have grown so indifferent to similar impressions, that I often find it very difficult to discover the exact point where the impression is made.

If, on the other hand, I consider what happiness is in your possession, what crowns of life and of eternity are on your forehead, if I think of your sympathetic and nobly refined home, free as it is from the serious cares of common life, if I finally observe how your personality and your ever-ready art enchant and delight all around you, I find it difficult to understand what your sufferings really are.  And yet you suffer, and suffer deeply; that I feel.  Sink your pride for once, and write to me as plainly and as comprehensively as I too frequently do to you, much to your annoyance.  I must conclude, in order not to begin the fourth sheet, and will only tell you in the margin that I thank you cordially for your love, and shall always remain faithfully and lovingly