If it were a mistake to regard "Le Rêve" as the outcome of any transformation of Zola's literary views, there occurred about this time a change in his personal appearance of the reality of which there could be no doubt. One evening, in the winter of 1887-1888, when he was at the Théâtre Libre,[2] he found, while walking down a passage, that his corpulence, which after steadily increasing for several years had now become extreme, made it difficult for him to get past Raffaelli, the artist, who happened to be standing there. "It's a horrid nuisance to have such a corporation," said Zola, apologising to Raffaelli, whom he had involuntarily squeezed. "But it's easily got rid of," the other answered. "If you wish to reduce your figure, you will merely have to cease drinking while you eat." And forthwith he gave some particulars concerning a form of treatment,[3] which he himself had followed, for ridding oneself of obesity. On the following morning Zola told his wife of it, but she laughed at him, declaring there was no sense in such a story. Besides, she said, he would never be able to abstain from drinking while he ate. Zola contended the contrary, and at last both husband and wife became impatient, and without exactly quarrelling, had, as the saying goes, "a few words together." But at last the morning roll and coffee, to which the first breakfast is usually limited in Paris, was served, and Zola thereupon took up his roll and began to eat. As for the coffee, in spite of all his wife's expostulations, he would not touch it; and for three months he persevered with this new treatment, drinking very sparingly and never at meals. Moreover, after a week or two he eschewed bread altogether. One Sunday in March (1888) when he arrived at M. Charpentier's house to dine there, Goncourt, who was present, could scarcely recognise him. He had lost over thirty pounds in weight, and his face, so round and flabby of recent years, once more recalled the portrait which Manet had painted of him in his early manhood. After marvelling at this great change Goncourt lost sight of Zola for another eight months or so, and when he met him again in November he did not recognise him at all. Zola no longer resembled even the Manet portrait; he was quite emaciated, his cheekbones projected, and under his hair, which he now wore rather long and brushed back, his forehead showed forth like a lofty tower. The same energy and determination which he brought to bear in his literary undertakings had enabled him to effect this great change. He was then about eight and forty, and although, in later years, he broadened and put on additional flesh, he never again became obese. After a time he allowed himself a draught of water at his meals, but for the remainder of his life he ate very little bread.