Pale vision A l’horizon En ce lieu sombre Fugitive ombre ... Devant mes yeux vague Une forme vague, Suis-je fascine? Une blanche vague. En volutes d’argent Sur l’océan immense, Elle court follement, Elle s’enfuit et danse Protée reste! Ne fuis pas! Sur la fleur qu’on ne voit pas Palpite, hésite, et se pose Un papillon vert et rose: Il voltige sans aucun bruit Étend ses ailes polychromes Et maintenant c’est un arum Au lieu d’un papillon de nuit.... The little fellow ended by making wax figurines, representing “Loie Fuller,” works of art that I treasure with great care. Another curious incident is that of the daughter of Madame Nevada, the great American singer. The child always called me “ma Loie” and, after her first visit to the theatre to which she had gone to see me dance, she tried to imitate me. She was so remarkable that I had a little robe made for her. Her father, Dr. Palmer, arranged at his house a magic lantern with variable lights. The little girl danced and invented strange and remarkable forms, which she called “the birth of spring,” “summer,” “autumn,” and “winter.” She was able to make use of various expressions and to combine motions of the arms and the body harmoniously. The little dear was so successful among the few intimate friends who saw her, that Mme. Nevada was obliged to give some recitals in her luxurious _appartement_ in the Avenue Wagram, so that her friends might applaud the delightful child. At one of these recitals some Catholic priests were present, and when they expressed themselves as delighted by the child’s charm of manner, she said to them quickly: “Do you like these dances? Then you ought to go and see ‘My Loie.’ She dances at the Folies-Bergère!” Here is quite a different impression I once made. Long before my debut as a dancer, I was a little _ingenue_, and was playing the burlesque role of Jack Sheppard in the play of that name, supporting the distinguished comedian Nat Goodwin. The Editor of one of the principal papers in New York one evening brought his wife and daughter to the theatre to see me in my popular part. The Editor’s daughter became very anxious to make my acquaintance. Her father looked me up and wrote to ask me if he might bring his daughter, a young person six years old, to call upon me. I had succeeded so perfectly in taking a boy’s part that the little girl could not believe but that I really was one, and when she had been presented to me, she asked: “Well, why does Jack wear girl’s clothes?” That was another time when I did not undeceive a little admirer. To-day she is a fine young woman who has always been a faithful friend of mine.