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curiosities； and I often thought of the unknown hands that had touched
these objects； of the eyes that had admired them； of the hearts that had
loved them； for one does love things！ I sometimes remained hours and
hours looking at a little watch of the last century。 It was so tiny； so
pretty with its enamel and gold chasing。 And it kept time as on the day
when a woman first bought it； enraptured at owning this dainty trinket。
It had not ceased to vibrate； to live its mechanical life； and it had
kept up its regular tick…tock since the last century。 Who had first worn
it on her bosom amid the warmth of her clothing； the heart of the watch
beating beside the heart of the woman？ What hand had held it in its warm
fingers； had turned it over and then wiped the enamelled shepherds on the
case to remove ；the slight moisture from her fingers？ What eyes had
watched the hands on its ornamental face for the expected； the beloved；
the sacred hour？
〃How I wished I had known her； seen her； the woman who had selected this
exquisite and rare object！ She is dead！ I am possessed with a longing
for women of former days。 I love； from afar； all those who have loved。
The story of those dead and gone loves fills my heart with regrets。 Oh；
the beauty； the smiles； the youthful caresses； the hopes！ Should not all
that be eternal？
〃How I have wept whole nights…thinking of those poor women of former
days； so beautiful； so loving； so sweet； whose arms were extended in an
embrace； and who now are dead！ A kiss is immortal！ It goes from lips to
lips； from century to century； from age to age。 Men receive them； give
them and die。
〃The past attracts me； the present terrifies me because the future means
death。 I regret all that has gone by。 I mourn all who have lived； I
should like to check time； to stop the clock。 But time goes； it goes； it
passes； it takes from me each second a little of myself for the
annihilation of to…morrow。 And I shall never live again。
〃Farewell； ye women of yesterday。 I love you！
〃But I am not to be pitied。 I found her； the one I was waiting for； and
through her I enjoyed inestimable pleasure。
〃I was sauntering in Paris on a bright； sunny morning； with a happy heart
and a high step； looking in at the shop windows with the vague interest
of an idler。 All at once I noticed in the shop of a dealer in antiques a
piece of Italian furniture of the seventeenth century。 It was very
handsome； very rare。 I set it down as being the work of a Venetian
artist named Vitelli； who was celebrated in his day。
〃I went on my way。
〃Why did the remembrance of that piece of furniture haunt me with such
insistence that I retraced my steps？ I again stopped before the shop； in
order to take another look at it； and I felt that it tempted me。
〃What a singular thing temptation is！ One gazes at an object； and；
little by little； it charms you； it disturbs you； it fills your thoughts
as a woman's face might do。 The enchantment of it penetrates your being；
a strange enchantment of form； color and appearance of an inanimate
object。 And one loves it； one desires it； one wishes to have it。 A
longing to own it takes possession of you； gently at first； as though it
were timid； but growing； becoming intense； irresistible。
〃And the dealers seem to guess； from your ardent gaze； your secret and
increasing longing。
〃I bought this piece of furniture and had it sent home at once。 I placed
it in my room。
〃Oh； I am sorry for those who do not know the honeymoon of the collector
with the antique he has just purchased。 One looks at it tenderly and
passes one's hand over it as if it were human flesh； one comes back to it
every moment； one is always thinking of it； wherever ore goes； whatever
one does。 The dear recollection of it pursues you in the street； in
society； everywhere； and when you return home at night； before taking off
your gloves or your hat； you go and look at it with the tenderness of a
lover。
〃Truly； for eight days I worshipped this piece of furniture。 I opened
its doors and pulled out the drawers every few moments。 I handled it
with rapture； with all the intense joy of possession。
〃But one evening I surmised； while I was feeling the thickness of one of
the panels； that there must be a secret drawer in it： My heart began to
beat； and I spent the night trying to discover this secret cavity。
〃I succeeded on the following day by driving a knife into a slit in the
wood。 A panel slid back and I saw； spread out on a piece of black
velvet； a magnificent tress of hair。
〃Yes； a woman's hair； an immense coil of fair hair； almost red； which
must have been cut off close to the head； tied with a golden cord。
〃I stood amazed； trembling； confused。 An almost imperceptible perfume；
so ancient that it seemed to be the spirit of a perfume； issued from this
mysterious drawer and this remarkable relic。
〃I lifted it gently； almost reverently； and took it out of its hiding
place。 It at once unwound in a golden shower that reached to the floor；
dense but light； soft and gleaming like the tail of a comet。
〃A strange emotion filled me。 What was this？ When； how； why had this
hair been shut up in this drawer？ What adventure； what tragedy did this
souvenir conceal？ Who had cut it off？ A lover on a day of farewell； a
husband on a day of revenge； or the one whose head it had graced on the
day of despair？
〃Was it as she was about to take the veil that they had cast thither that
love dowry as a pledge to the world of the living？ Was it when they were
going to nail down the coffin of the beautiful young corpse that the one
who had adored her had cut off her tresses； the only thing that he could
retain of her； the only living part of her body that would not suffer
decay； the only thing he could still love； and caress； and kiss in his
paroxysms of grief？
〃Was it not strange that this tress should have remained as it was in
life； when not an atom of the body on which it grew was in existence？
〃It fell over my fingers； tickled the skin with a singular caress； the
caress of a dead woman。 It affected me so that I felt as though I should
weep。
〃I held it in my hands for a long time； then it seemed as if it disturbed
me； as though something of the soul had remained in it。 And I put it
back on the velvet； rusty from age； and pushed in the drawer； closed the
doors of the antique cabinet and went out for a walk to meditate。
〃I walked along； filled with sadness and also with unrest； that unrest
that one feels when in love。 I felt as though I must have lived before；
as though I must have known this woman。
〃And Villon's lines came to my mind like a sob：
Tell me where； and in what place
Is Flora； the beautiful Roman；
Hipparchia and Thais
Who was her cousin…german？
Echo answers in the breeze
O'er river and lake that blows；
Their beauty was above all praise；
But where are last year's snows？
The queen； white as lilies；
Who sang as sing the birds；
Bertha Broadfoot； Beatrice； Alice；
Ermengarde； princess of Maine；
And Joan； the good Lorraine；
Burne