“Would you believe that in each of these rooms there are some pieces of furniture which belong to her and others to me? You saw her just now with her arm-chair. She says to the charwoman, when she’s doing the room, “No, that’s Monsieur’s chair; don’t touch that.” And the other day, when by mistake I put a bound music-book on a little table which belongs to her, Madam knocked it on to the ground. Its corners were broken.... Oh, it can’t last much longer.... But, listen....” He seized me by the arm, and lowering his voice: “I have taken steps. She is continually threatening me if I ‘go on!’ to take refuge in a home. I have set aside a certain sum of money which ought to be enough to pay for her at Sainte-Périne’s; I hear it’s an excellent place. The few lessons I still give, bring me in hardly anything. In a little time I shall be at the end of my resources; I should be forced to break into this sum--and I’m determined not to. So I have made a resolution.... It will be in a little over three months. Yes; I have fixed the date. If you only knew what a relief it is to think that every hour it draws nearer.” He had bent towards me; he bent closer still: “And I have put aside a Government bond. Oh, it’s not much. But I couldn’t do more. Madame de La Pérouse doesn’t know about it. It’s in my bureau in an envelope directed to you, with the necessary instructions. I know nothing about business, but a solicitor whom I consulted, told me that the interest could be paid directly to my grandson, until he is of age, and that then he would have the security. I thought it wouldn’t be too great a tax on your friendship to ask you to see that this is done. I have so little confidence in solicitors!... And even, if you wished to make me quite easy, you would take charge of the envelope at once.... You will, won’t you?... I’ll go and fetch it.” He trotted out in his usual fashion and came back with a large envelope in his hand. “You’ll excuse me for having sealed it; for form’s sake,” said he. “Take it.” I glanced at it and saw under my name the words “To be opened after my death” written in printed letters. “Put it in your pocket quick, so that I may know it’s safe. Thank you.... Oh, I was so longing for you to come!...” I have often experienced that, in moments as solemn as this, all human emotion is transformed into an almost mystic ecstasy, into a kind of enthusiasm, in which my whole being is magnified, or rather liberated from all selfishness, as though dispossessed of itself and depersonalized. Those who have never experienced this will certainly not understand me. But I felt that La Pérouse understood. Any protestation on my part would have been superfluous, would have seemed unbecoming, I thought, and I contented myself with pressing the hand which he gave me. His eyes were shining with a strange brightness. In his free hand, in which he had at first been holding the envelope, was another piece of paper.