‘1. In order to go to Fontainebleau, or rather to Barbizon, M. and Mme. B. left the train at _Melun_. It is impossible to say, whether the initials of A. B. and the name of Lucie are engraved on a tree in the forest. ‘2. “There is much resemblance between Antoine, as he was, and the physical portrait drawn of him by Madame X., especially the soft, caressing expression of the eyes. In politics he held advanced opinions for his time, and, had he lived, he would, in all probability, have been a socialist to-day; at least his opinions would have been very favourable to socialistic doctrines. The sentence, _Nous étions tristement heureux_, is characteristically true; for at Barbizon, in spite of our long walks and our reveries in the forest, he was already very weak and in the grip of the illness which, soon afterwards, carried him off so rapidly.” [The above was written and handed to me by Madame B. in October 1901.] ‘3. Lucie is not Madame B.’s name. Her name is Marie. But Antoine often said to her, “What a pity you are not called Lucie!” It was his favourite name. ‘4. It is quite true that, alone among all my friends, Antoine called me “Carlos,” and that I, on my side, called him “Tony.” This is a fact known only to me. It is also perfectly correct—and I am not aware of having related this fact to any person whomsoever—that, when Antoine died, stricken to death in a few hours by a disease of the heart, I went into his death-chamber and kissed him on the brow. ‘5. All the details relative to the construction of machines, electric wires, invention of the telephone, [before Gr. Bell’s invention had been made known], collaboration with me in a scientific work, all these details are correct. ‘6. The house in which he stayed at Fontainebleau stood by itself, with its back to the forest; a tramway passes there to-day, the house having been pulled down to make room for it. ‘7. His daughter (who died in September 1900, at about the time when Madame X. says she first heard a voice call me “Carlos”) was called Madeleine. His sister’s name was Louise. Louise married M. H. of Jewish origin. [_There are Jews in his family._] ‘8. He was thirty-two years old when he died, and his death was almost instantaneous. It would be impossible to describe his death more correctly than Madame X. does in the words: _Quelque chose l’a étouffé à la poitrine, et ce fut tout._ In fact, towards eleven o’clock in the night he was seized by a thoracic oppression, which made such rapid progress, that he expired at four o’clock in the early morning. ‘9. He was not wounded during the Commune; but once when, as a reserve artillery officer, he was assisting at gun-firing at Grenoble he lost the hearing of the left ear, an affliction which saddened him very much. Probably I knew this, but, if so, I had completely forgotten it. It was Madame B., who related this detail to me in October 1901, a detail absolutely unknown to every one, for Antoine never spoke of it.