now. The lightness of the air here makes the place tenable--so far, at
least. We made many an effort to get an apartment near the Madeleine,
but we had to sacrifice sun or money, or breath, in going up to the top
of a house, and the sacrifice seemed too great upon consideration, and
we came off to the 'Avenue des Champs-Elysées,' on the sunshiny side of
the way, to a southern aspect, and pretty cheerful carpeted rooms--a
drawing room, a dressing and writing room for Robert, a small dining
room, two comfortable bedrooms and a third bedroom upstairs for the
_femme de service_, kitchen, &c., for two hundred francs a month. Not
too dear, we think. About the same that we paid, out of the season, in
London for the miserable accommodation we had there. But perhaps you
won't come near us now; we may be too much 'out of the way' for you. Is
it so indeed? Understand that close by us is a stand of _coupés_ and
_fiacres_, not to profane your ears with the mention of the continual
stream of omnibuses by means of which you may reach the other end of
Paris for six sous. And there might be a possibility of taking a small
apartment for you in this very house. See how I castle-build.

But if the Crystal Palace vanishes from the face of the earth, who shall
trust any more in castles? Will they really pull it down, do you think?
If it's a bubble, it's a glass bubble, and not meant, therefore, for
bursting in the air, it seems to me. And you do want a place in England
for sculpture, and also to show people how olives grow. What a beautiful
winter garden it would be! But they will pull it down, perhaps; and
then, the last we shall have seen of it will be in this description of
your letter, and _that's_ seeing it worthily, too.

We were from home last night; we went to Lady Elgin's reception, and met
a Madame Mohl, who was entertaining, and is to come to us this morning--