This great and wholesome exaltation people attribute to the miraculous presence of beauty. No doubt, no doubt! But that vague and simple explanation is an almost mythical one. For you must realize that the man with whom you have just been having a sort of intimate colloquy has comforted you and carried you out of yourself mainly because he has been able to prove to you that you were neither abandoned, nor destitute, nor truly disgraced. He has seemed to you great but, in recalling to you that you are of the same race as himself, he has effaced himself before you. He has given you happy, courageous, new thoughts, and you have suddenly seen that you were thinking them also. For a second you have both communed together. And you have felt yourself once more in possession of a treasure that was escaping you. It is true, all these thoughts are your own, since it is enough for you to see them in writing to recognize them. It is true, you too have your grandeur, your nobility and infinite resources. How could you have forgotten it for a moment? It is enough for you to open that book or to hum that song to remember it. It is true, your life also is astonishing and full of adventures. How did you fall into that despair? What did that discouragement signify? IX During the winter of 1917, I made the acquaintance of a young provincial musician who was serving in the same unit with me. At Soissons we found a room where we were able to meet and play together. Our new comrade was a simple man with a country accent. He played the violin carefully and with talent. Often, during our concerts, we watched his face as it bent over the instrument, and it seemed to us that in those moments that humble violinist was in communion with the great souls of Bach, Beethoven, and Franck, that he was holding a brotherly and affectionate conversation with them. I felt then that he had nothing to envy in the princes of this world. And it is a fact, I believe, that he did not envy them anything. Do not tell me that you do not know how to play any instrument. That signifies nothing. There are two skilful professional musicians in my group who play their instruments only just enough to enable them not to lose practice for their calling. They are a sort of mechanician. As for you, you have a heart, ears, and a memory. And that’s the main thing. Believe that what you hold in your memory is more precious than everything else, for you carry that with you wherever you go, through all your days. Do you think I can ever bore myself, with all those thousands of airs that sing in my head, that secretly accompany all my thoughts and offer a sort of harmonious comment upon all the acts of my life?