"Two or three English friends on a trip came to greet her effusively. After they had gone, I said to her: "'Everybody kisses to-day. Is it not my turn?' "She began to laugh. "'There is no mistletoe, my friend. Ah, if there were only mistletoe!' "'Would you go under it with me?' "'In Paris your drawing-rooms are so small.' "My exaltation of the Autumn has quieted itself, or rather has become as the red leaves inlaid in a Galle vase that I gave her as a souvenir. That which I thought impossible is materializing little by little. A lasting tie ill-defined and somewhat uncertain is binding us. I prefer her glance to her eyes, her voice to her lips, her friendship to my desire." "January 2nd: Dr. Heaume died yesterday, regardless of so untimely a date. I saw him in his bed. He had regained his stature. His face was impressively calm, with a serenity which startles one--yes, startles and attracts--on features that have only appeared sorrowful and tortured. "In reality, he adored life. It was his only faith. Instead of finishing his treatise on nervous diseases, he had begun a study of the development of the passions. He multiplied the reasons for prolonging his life and did not fear failing his masterpiece as everyone had failed him. "At his side, his wife was weeping as if she had always recognized the rare force of that spirit now fled. "Overcome by the realization of so much lost power, I went to share my reflections with Anne. Even our silence is the echo of our thoughts. At home mine have no echo." "January: Visited the Conciergie together. One of her ancestors was killed in this court on the first day of the September massacres. "'He once appeared to me,' she told me. "At the beginning of our conversations there is always a short digression. Her indifferent manner keeps me on the alert; then I find again her candor and her deep soul. It always requires time to harmonize. "She does not try to convince me. I ask at all hazards: "'Where and when?' "'Do you want to know? It was in a lawyer's office.' "'An extraordinary place for a ghost.' "'Yes, they were advising me to give up my father's estate. He looked at me severely and showed me this wound. The dead always advise us to consent. They don't have to bear the consequences. At that time I thought that there were no useless sacrifices.' "'And now?' "'All sacrifices are useless.' "Her golden eyes fixed me boldly as if she were defying me. I recalled her look of pride in London when she told me she had paid the last family debt. "Along the quay, behind Notre Dame, she talked to me of her childhood, of her early youth in Dauphiné. It is a subject to which she seldom refers. Her recollection of our meeting is more exact than mine. She recalls forgotten circumstances. I was shy, unsociable and proud in those days. "'A little absurd, is it not?' "She replies gravely: "'I recognized your superiority.' "'What superiority?'