to Marcel Schwob

Honolulu, Sandwich Islands, February 8th, 1889.

DEAR SIR,—I thank you—from the midst of such a flurry as you can imagine, with seven months’ accumulated correspondence on my table—for your two friendly and clever letters.  Pray write me again.  I shall be home in May or June, and not improbably shall come to Paris in the summer.  Then we can talk; or in the interval I may be able to write, which is to-day out of the question.  Pray take a word from a man of crushing occupations, and count it as a volume.  Your little conte is delightful.  Ah yes, you are right, I love the eighteenth century; and so do you, and have not listened to its voice in vain.—The Hunted One,

Robert Louis Stevenson.