From this time on a great friendship, a great sympathy, subsisted between us, although we were unable to understand each other. Among the important men whom I have met few have exercised upon me a charm such as that of Dumas. At first a little cold, almost stiff in manner, he became, on further acquaintance, exquisitely affable, and of a gallantry suggestive of the fine manners of the old days. At first his words continued obscure to me, but gradually, as I became familiar with the French language, I fell under the irresistible charm of his conversation, with its beautifully logical and rounded phrases, enamelled as it was with sparkling flashes of wit. Dumas had practically two voices, two styles of speech; one which he employed in ordinary circumstances, as in asking certain questions, or in giving orders; the other the one in which he discussed a subject that greatly interested him. Very tall, with a somewhat dreamy look, he would survey you for a long time, whilst deep in his eyes there gleamed a light of profound and intelligent good will. His hands, well modelled and large, were very handsome, and he had an almost feminine love of being well groomed. At breakfast one morning some one asked me if I was very fond of M. Dumas, and I replied in French, which I still understood only imperfectly: “I am very fond of her.” Dumas, convulsed with laughter, said something that I did not get, but which was translated for me thus: “He says that he has been taken for a whole lot of things, but never before for a woman.” Dumas smiled again and kissed my hand, a circumstance that I have always remembered. Another time we were at Marly-le-Roi and the Count Primoli took a number of photographs of us and of the garden, in which only a single yellow rose was left. Dumas picked this flower and gave it to me. “My dear sir,” I said, “it is the last one in the garden. You ought not to give it to me.” M. Poulle, who served as translator, rendered this reply: “Oh, very well. Since it is so valuable, what are you going to give me in exchange?” I replied that a woman could give only one thing for so pretty a thought as that suggested by the rose. “And that is?” he asked. I drew his face toward mine and kissed him. [Illustration: LOIE FULLER AND ALEXANDRE DUMAS _Photo_ _Ellis_] Just at this moment Count Primoli took a snap-shot of us, a picture which I have never had the pleasure of owning. I have, however, something better than a picture. I have kept the rose. Conversing with Dumas I learned from him some things about which I shall think as long as I live. One day, still with M. Poulle’s assistance as interpreter, we were speaking of _La Dame aux Camélias_ and of the Demi-Monde and the character of the women who compose it. He then said something that I shall never forget: “When we find one of God’s creatures in whom we perceive nothing good, the fault is perhaps in us.”