Together we conceived the idea of mounting the piece upon the stage of my miniature theatre. That play of the “Donkey's Skin” brought us together very often. And little by little the project assumed gigantic proportions; it grew as the months sped, and amused us in ever increasing measure; indeed, in proportion to the degree of perfection to which we were able to bring our conception did we enjoy it. We manufactured fantastic decorations; we dressed, so that they might take part in the processions, innumerable little dolls. It will be necessary for me to speak often of that fairy spectacle which was one of the important things of my childhood. And even after Jeanne tired of it I worked over it alone, and I fairly outdid myself by undertaking enterprises that seemed grand to me, such, for instance, as my efforts to represent moonlight, great conflagrations and storms. I also made marvellous palaces and gardens wonderful as Aladdin's. All my dreams of enchanted regions, of strange tropical luxuries, which I later found in the distant corners of the world, took form in the little play of the “Donkey's Skin.” Leaving out the mystical experiences at the commencement of my life, I can affirm that almost all my fancies had their essay on that tiny stage. I was nearly fifteen when the last decorations, unfinished ones, were laid away forever in the cardboard box that served them for a peaceful tomb. And since I have anticipated their future I will say in conclusion that in later years, when Jeanne had grown into a beautiful woman, upon numerous occasions we have planned to open the box where our little dolls are sleeping. But we live our life so rapidly that we seem never to find the time, nor will we, I fear, ever find it. Later our children may,--or who can tell, perhaps our grandchildren! Upon some future day, when we are forgotten, our unknown descendants in ferreting to the bottom of old cupboards will be astonished to find there numberless little creatures, nymphs, fairies and genii, all dressed by our hands. CHAPTER XXXVI. It is said that many children who live in the central provinces, away from the ocean, have a great longing to see it. I who had never been away from the monotonous country surrounding us looked forward eagerly to seeing the mountains. I tried to imagine them; I had seen pictures of several, and I had even painted them for the “Donkey's Skin.” My sister, when she visited Lake Lucerne, sent me a description of the mountains, and wrote me long letters about them, such as are seldom addressed to a child of my age. And my ideas were further extended by some photographs of glaciers that my sister brought me for my magic-lantern. I desired with all my heart to see the mountains themselves.