With such a combination of the elements of success put into _Roma_, victory was certain. Last night's triumph was one of the most complete that we have had to chronicle here for fifteen years. And it is with joy that we affirm this to the glory of the Master, Massenet, and of the Monte Carlo Opéra. * * * * * That year the days passed at the Palace were all the sweeter to my heart as the Prince showed me an even more touching affection, if that were possible. I was honored by the duty of attending in the salon adjoining the Prince's box (everyone knows that I do not attend first performances) and I recall that his Serene Highness at the end of the first act, in front of the attentive assemblage, said to me, "I have given you all I could; I have not yet embraced you." And as he said this his Highness embraced me with keen emotion. * * * * * Here I am in Paris, on the eve of the rehearsals and first performance of _Roma_ at the Opéra. I have hope ... I have such admirable artists. They have already won the first battle for me. Will they not be able to triumph in the second? CHAPTER XXIX THOUGHTS AFTER DEATH I have departed from this planet and I have left behind my poor earthly ones with their occupations which are as many as they are useless; at last I am living in the scintillating splendor of the stars, each of which used to seem to me as large as millions of suns. Of old I was never able to get such lighting for my scenery on the great stage at the Opéra where the backdrops were too often in darkness. Henceforth there will be no letters to answer; I have bade farewell to first performances and the literary and other discussions which come from them. Here there are no newspapers, no dinners, no sleepless nights. Ah! if I could but counsel my friends to join me here, I would not hesitate to call them to me. But would they come? Before I came to this distant place where I now sojourn, I wrote out my last wishes (an unhappy husband would have taken advantage of the occasion to write with joy, "my first wishes"). I had indicated that above all I wanted to be buried at Égreville, near the family abode in which I had lived so long. Oh, the good cemetery in the open fields, silent as befits those who live there! I asked that they should refrain from hanging black draperies on my door, ornaments worn threadbare by use. I expressed the wish that a suitable carriage should take me from Paris, the journey, with my consent, to begin at eight in the morning. An evening paper (perhaps two) felt it to be its duty to inform its readers of my decease. A few friends--I still had some the day before--came and asked my concierge if the news were true, and he replied, "Alas, Monsieur went without leaving his address." And his reply was true for he did not know where that obliging carriage was taking me.