Léna was dumbfounded at sight of it. He was choked by the most delightful of emotions. Both of us had been happy in the work. Now the unknown faced us. Where and in what theater were we to be played? It was a radiant day. Nature with her intoxicating odors, the fair season of the fields, the flowers in the meadows, the agreeable union which had grown up between us in producing the work, everything in fact spoke of happiness. Such fleeting happiness, as the poetess Mme. Daniel Lesaeur has told us, is worth all eternity. The fields recalled to us that we were on the eve of the fifteenth of August, the Feast of the Virgin, whom we had sung in our work. As I never had a piano at home, especially at Égreville, I was unable to satisfy my dear Léna's curiosity and let him hear the music of this or that scene. We were strolling together near the hour of vespers towards the old, venerable church, and we could hear from a distance the chords of its little harmonium. A mad idea struck me. "Hey! What if I should suggest to you," I said to my friend, "what if I propose to you something which would be impossible in that sacred place in any other way, but certainly very tempting! Suppose we go into the church as soon as it is deserted and returned to holy obscurity. What if I should let you hear fragments of our _Le Jongleur de Notre Dame?_ Wouldn't it be a divine moment which would leave its impression on us forever?" And we continued our stroll, the complacent shade of the great trees protecting the paths and roads from the sting of a too ardent sun. On the morrow--sad morrow--we parted. The following autumn, the winter, and finally the spring of the succeeding year passed without any one coming to me from anywhere with an offer to produce the work. When I least thought of it, I had a visit as unexpected as it was flattering from M. Raoul Gunsbourg. I delight in recalling here the great worth of that close friend, his individuality as a manager, and his talent as a musician, whose works triumph on the stage. Raoul Gunsbourg brought me the news that on his advice H. S. H. the Prince of Monaco had designated me for a work to be put on the stage of the theater at Monte Carlo. _Le Jongleur de Notre Dame_ was ready and I offered it. It was arranged that his Serene Highness should deign to come to Paris and hear the work in person. That hearing occurred, as a matter of fact, in the beautiful, artistic home of my publisher Henri Heugel. The Prince was entirely satisfied; he did me the honor to express several times his sincere pleasure. The work was put in study and the later rehearsals were in Paris under Raoul Gunsbourg's direction. In January, 1902, my wife and I left Paris for the Palace of Monaco, where his Serene Highness had most cordially invited us to be his guests. What a contrast it was to the life we had left behind!