Pondering deeply over these solemn things, I sent myself to sleep again, as was natural enough--but no more to dream. I slept soundly until late in the morning, and breakfasted at the Bains Deligny, a delightful swimming-bath near the Pont de la Concorde (on the other side), and spent most of the day there, alternately swimming, and dozing, and smoking cigarettes, and thinking of the wonders of the night before, and hoping for their repetition on the night to follow. [Illustration] I remained a week in Paris, loafing about by day among old haunts of my childhood--a melancholy pleasure--and at night trying to "dream true" as my dream duchess had called it. Only once did I succeed. I had gone to bed thinking most persistently of the "Mare d'Auteuil," and it seemed to me that as soon as I was fairly asleep I woke up there, and knew directly that I had come into a "true dream" again, by the reality and the bliss. It was transcendent _life_ once more--a very ecstasy of remembrance made actual, and _such_ an exquisite surprise! There was M. le Major, in his green frock-coat, on his knees near a little hawthorn-tree by the brink, among the water-logged roots of which there dwelt a cunning old dytiscus as big as the bowl of a table-spoon--a prize we had often tried to catch in vain. M. le Major had a net in his hand, and was watching the water intently; the perspiration was trickling down his nose; and around him, in silent expectation and suspense, were grouped Gogo and Mimsey and my three cousins, and a good-humored freckled Irish boy I had quite forgotten, and I suddenly remembered that his name was Johnstone, that he was very combative, and that he lived in the Rue Basse (now Rue Raynouard). On the other side of the pond my mother was keeping Medor from the water, for fear of his spoiling the sport, and on the bench by the willow sat Madame Seraskier--lovely Madame Seraskier--deeply interested. I sat down by her side and gazed at her with a joy there is no telling. An old woman came by, selling conical wafer-cakes, and singing--"_V'la l'plaisir, mesdames--V'la l'plaisir!_" Madame Seraskier bought ten sous' worth--a mountain! M. le Major made a dash with his net--unsuccessfully, as usual. Medor was let loose, and plunged with a plunge that made big waves all round the mare, and dived after an imaginary stone, amid general shouts and shrieks of excitement. Oh, the familiar voices! I almost wept. Medor came out of the water without his stone and shook himself, twisting and barking and grinning and gyrating, as was his way, quite close to me. In my delight and sympathy I was ill-advised enough to try and stroke him, and straight the dream was "blurred"--changed to an ordinary dream, where all things were jumbled up and incomprehensible; a dream pleasant enough, but different in kind and degree--an ordinary dream; and in my distress thereat I woke, and failed to dream again (as I wished to dream) that night.