I was by far the most entertained of those who attended the rehearsals of _Cigale_. At the end was a scene which was very touching and exquisitely poetical, where an angel with a divine voice appears and sings in the distance. The angel's voice was Mlle. Guiraudon who became Mme. Henri Cain. A year later, as I have said, on February 14, 1905, _Le Chérubin_ was sung at Monte Carlo and on the twenty-third of the following May the Opéra-Comique in Paris closed its season with the same piece. The only changes at the latter were that Lucien Fugère took the rôle of the philosopher and added a new success to the many that artist had already achieved and that the rôle of Ensoleillad was given to the charming Mlle. Vallandri. [Illustration: Persephone in _Ariane_] * * * * * You will perhaps observe that I have said nothing about _Ariane_. The reason for this is that I never talk about a work until it is finished and engraved. I have said nothing about _Ariane_ or about _Roma_, the first scenes of which I wrote in 1902, enraptured by the sublime tragedy, _Rome_ _Vaincue_ by Alexandre Parodi. As I write these words the five acts of _Roma_ are in rehearsal at Monte Carlo and the Opéra, but I have already said too much. So I resume the current of my life. _Ariane! Ariane!_ The work which made me live in such lofty spheres! How could it have been otherwise with the superb, inspired collaboration of Catulle Mendes, the poet of ethereal hopes and dreams! It was a memorable day in my life when my friend Heugel told me that Catulle Mendes was ready to read the text of _Ariane_ to me. For a long time I had wanted to weep the tears of Ariane. I was thrilled with all the strength of mind and heart before I even knew the first word of the first scene. We engaged to meet for this reading at Catulle Mendes's house, in the artistic lodging of that great scholar and his exquisite wife who was also a most talented and real poet. I came away actually feverish with excitement. The libretto was in my pocket, against my heart, as if to make it feel the throbs, as I got into a victoria to go home. Rain fell in torrents but I did not notice it. Surely Ariane's tears permeated my whole being with delight. Dear, good tears, with what gladness you must have fallen during the rehearsals! I was overwhelmed with esteem and attention by my dear director, Gailhard, as well as by my remarkable interpreters. In August, 1905, I was walking pensively under the pergola of our house at Égreville, when suddenly an automobile horn woke the echoes of that peaceful country.