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London,
Friday afternoon
July 4, 1873
Come
back, come back, my dear friend, my only friend, come back. I
swear I shall be kind. If I was cross with you, it was a joke
which I was obstinately determined to carry on; I repent of it
more than can be said. Come back, it will be quite forgotten.
How terrible that you should have taken that joke seriously. For
two days I have not stopped crying. Come back. Be brave, dear
friend. Nothing is lost. All you have to do is make another journey.
We'll live here again, very brave and very patiently. Oh! I beg
you! It's for your good, besides. Come back, you'll find all your
things here. I hope you realize now that there was nothing real
in our argument. That frightful moment! But you -- when I signalled
to you to get off the boat -- why didn't you come? Have we lived
together for two years to come to this? What are you going to
do? If you won't come here, would you like me to come and meet
you where you are? Yes, I was in the wrong. Oh, you won't forget
me, will you? No, you can't forget me. As for me, I still have
you, here. Listen, answer your friend, must we not live together
anymore? Be brave. Answer this quickly. I can't stay here much
longer. Do not read this except with goodwill. Quick, tell me
if I must come to you. Yours, all my life.
RIMBAUD
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July
5, 1873
My
dear friend, I have your letter which is headed 'At sea'. You
are wrong, this time, very wrong. To begin with, there is nothing
postive in your letter. You wife is not coming, or she is coming
in three months, three years, whatever. As for kicking the bucket,
I know you too well. And so you are going - while you wait for
your wife and for death - to struggle, to wander about, and
to bore people. What! don't you realize that our anger was false,
on both sides? But you will be in the wrong at the end, because,
even after i called you back, you persisted in your unreal feelings.
Do you think that your life will be happier with other people
than it was with me? think about it! Oh! surely not! It is only
with me that you can be free, and since I swear to be very nice
to you in the future, and deplore the whole part of my part
in the wrong, and since my head is clear, at last, and I like
you very much, if you don't want to come back, or for me to
join you, you are committing a crime, and you will do penance
for it for LONG YEARS TO COME, by losing all your freedom, and
by sufferings more terrible perhaps than you have undergone.
When you read this, think of what you were before you knew me!
For myself, I'm not going back to my mother's. I am going to
Paris. I shall try to be gone by Monday evening. You will have
compelled me to sell all your suits, I can't do anything else.
They aren't sold yet: they are not coming to get them from me
until Monday evening. If you want to write me in Paris, send
letters t o L. Forain, 289 rue Saint-Jacques (for A. Rimbaud).
He will know my address. One thing is certain: if your wife
comes back, I shall never compromise you by writing to you -
I shall never write. One single true word: it is, come back.
I want to be with you, I love you. If you listen to this, you
will prove your courage and sincerity. Otherwise, I'm sorry
for you. But I love you, I kiss you and we'll see each other
again.
RIMBAUD
8 Great Colle, etc... until Monday evening - or Tuesday midday,
if you send me word.
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