I was then dancing at the Athénée. The whole house had been bought up by students. When I came on the stage each spectator threw a bunch of violets at me. It took five minutes to gather up the flowers. When I had finished dancing, a fresh avalanche of flowers poured upon the stage. During the performance I received from my admirers, along with an album of sketches signed with names, several of which are now famous, an exquisite statuette representing me in a characteristic attitude. When I was ready to leave the theatre, the students took my horses out of the shafts and drew my carriage themselves. At the Madeleine the crowd was so dense that the police warned us to stop. But as soon as they had learned that it was “La Loie” in whose honour the triumphal procession was decreed, we had permission to go our way without interruption. The young men drew my carriage all the way to Passy, where I lived. They conscientiously awakened all the inhabitants with their outcries. Finally we reached the house. I did not know what I was going to do with these boys, but they themselves solved the problem without delay. After they had rung the bell and as soon as my gate had swung on its hinges they emitted a shout all together, and started to run away as if possessed. I could hear them for a long time afterwards, shouting: “Vive l’art! Vive La Loie!” I have often wondered whether the police were as lenient on their return. In Marseilles, at the time of the Colonial Exposition, one of the commissioners of fine arts asked me if I would not like to perform out-of-doors. That was one of my dearest wishes, and I consented readily. Preparations were made at once for my performance, which was to be given in the same place where we had admired the King of Cambodia’s dancers. The stage was built opposite to the Grand Palais. The director of the Exposition had placed behind the platform some great plants, in order that I might be relieved against a background of green foliage, which would be particularly favourable to the brilliancy of the figures in the foreground. Below the stage were two little ponds, with sparkling fountains. The evening of my first appearance arrived. I was feverishly impatient. Nothing had been done to advertise it to the public of Marseilles, for we regarded this first evening as a kind of rehearsal, which we should repeat a week later, if it met with success. It was only this next performance that we expected to announce formally. It was a starlight night. There were at least thirty thousand visitors at the Exposition. The lights were put out and the crowd rushed towards the platform. In spite of its impromptu character the performance was a remarkable success, and the committee decided from this time on to continue to give outdoor performances. During the second evening, just as the lights were about to be extinguished, a man came and said to me as I was on my way to the stage: