February 8th, 1929

Dearest Mary,

Please excuse my dictating this letter. If I wrote it
myself the paper would be blotted with my tears; besides which,
our unfortunate change of plan obliges me to write in every
direction with the least possible delay, as we had made so many
arrangements in advance.

When Daisy arrived here a week ago I noticed that she
was a little stiff, and after two days she sent for the doctor
who told her that she had a bad case of water on the knee, and
immobilized her at once and gave her "pointes de feu"; but it
turned out that she had been suffering for some time before
leaving Paris, and of course, in these cases, the only hope of
arresting the mischief if to take it in hand at once.

The doctor, after watching her knee for several days,
has now told her that it is useless to think of making a long
journey in another five or six weeks, and as she had water on
the other knee two years ago, and was laid up for months, she
herself would not be willing to risk it even if the doctor
consented. He is going to allow her to be taken to Toulon in an
ambulance in a few days, and put on the Paris train, in order
that she may see a specialist in Paris, and I am very glad that
this arrangement has been made, for there she will have any
number of friends to cheer her up, whereas here she can only lie
and look out at the Mediterranean on which she hoped to navigate.

When this shattering news came yesterday I appealed to
the Princesse de Poix, who is here, to take Daisy's place and
come with me; but she is obliged to go back to Paris, as she is
looking after the many children of her daughter, the Princesse
Augène de Ligne, who has gone to the Congo, and know of no one
else to replace Daisy for such a trip (Robert being out of the
question, as his sister is less well again), so I have reluctantly
decided to give up going to Syria myself. I am very much
tempted by the possibility of joining you there, but on the other
hand, as we have already agreed, our pace is bound to be a
different one, and if I were all alone you would feel that I
was dependent on you, and I might interfere with your plans and
dates. On the whole, therefore, I think it best to postpone the
trip till next spring, in the hope that Daisy and I may be able
to make it then. Meanwhile, if you are not leaving till the end

February 13th 1929

Dearest Mary,

In the confusion of Daisy's departure the day before yesterday (combined with a new attack of grippe on my part), the itinerary of the dragoman seems to have vanished. We thought the trip had been definitely given up, and I probably left it with Daisy for future reference, and she took it to Paris.

Will you be an angel and send me another copy as soon as possible, since after all we are looking forward to the pleasure of joining you?

Robert Norton has just got back from England, and his account of the cold there and on the journey reads like an Arctic exploration. It froze hard here last night, and the gardener says I have lost all my oranges and lemons. I wonder how your garden has been standing it? I hope you have been treated less cruelly than we have.

Yours ever affectionately

business matters to attend to there, and the possibility of
making the voyage with her is such an inducement that I have
decided to go this spring.

I have heard from Percy, who is struggling with his
invalid at Cap Martin. He tells me that this is her seventh illness
since their marriage.

Best love to you all, and au revoir next month I
fondly hope.

Yours ever affectionately

December 31st, 1931

Dearest Mary,

I have been meaning to write to thank you for that
exquisite work, The Georgiad, which to a singular degree achieves
the antithesis of being dull and scandalous. I don't know that
anything has ever bored or disgusted me more, but the boredom
conquered and I was not able to go on to the end.

I was so sorry to hear this morning from B.B. that you
had a little fever again. No matter how often one is told to
expect such relapses, one never really believes that they will
come; luckily, for if one did, they would probably be much more
disturbing in their effects. However, by this time you will be
taking the new mud treatment, and perhaps already looking back
on this last retrogression from another altitude. In any case,
I have promised B.B. to get for you full particulars of the treat-
ment which Dr. Choussaud, in Paris, gives for varicose veins.
Loulie Baylies, who used to make an annuel pilgrimage to Bagnoles
with very slight results, was given one course of treatment by
this doctor two years ago, and now skips about like a gazelle.
I have never seen such a cure. And if this does not do the trick,
Gaillard Lapsley charges me to tell you that his doctor at Camb
bridge gave him two or three years ago the new treatment by
piqures which has made life a different thing for him. So you
see there is a choice of remedies, and I am convinced that one
or the other will help you; but I do believe that the modern
treatment is more efficacious than the traditional one.

The day before yesterday I had my usual after-Christmas
attack of fatigue, which I never seem to be able to fight off,
and never shall, until people cease to send Christmas card. I have
cuddled myself for two days and am now all right and combining
to go down wo dine with ces Messieurs. Howish all wish that you
were with us.

Please give my love to Nicky, and tell her that she
would do much better to spend the night at Cannes and let me send
the motor for her the next morning, as the weather is very cold
at present (although we have a brilliant sun in the middle of the
day), and I hate the idea of her travelling till all hours in
the night, as I fear she will have to, if she tries to come
straight through.

Ms. Berinson