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delicious sky and in this garden of roses and oranges all base vanities
and foolish pretensions and vile lusts； showing up the human mind such as
it is； servile； ignorant； arrogant and full of cupidity。
Suddenly I saw some villas in one of those ravishing bays that one meets
at every turn of the mountain； there were only four or five fronting the
sea at the foot of the mountains； and behind them a wild fir wood slopes
into two great valleys； that were untraversed by roads。 I stopped short
before one of these chalets； it was so pretty： a small white house with
brown trimmings； overrun with rambler roses up to the top。
The garden was a mass of flowers； of all colors and all kinds； mixed in a
coquettish； well…planned disorder。 The lawn was full of them； big pots
flanked each side of every step of the porch； pink or yellow clusters
framed each window； and the terrace with the stone balustrade； which
enclosed this pretty little dwelling； had a garland of enormous red
bells； like drops of blood。 Behind the house I saw a long avenue of
orange trees in blossom； which went up to the foot of the mountain。
Over the door appeared the name； 〃Villa d'Antan；〃 in small gold letters。
I asked myself what poet or what fairy was living there； what inspired；
solitary being had discovered this spot and created this dream house；
which seemed to nestle in a nosegay。
A workman was breaking stones up the street； and I went to him to ask the
name of the proprietor of this jewel。
〃It is Madame Julie Romain；〃 he replied。
Julie Romain！ In my childhood； long ago； I had heard them speak of this
great actress； the rival of Rachel。
No woman ever was more applauded and more lovedespecially more loved！
What duets and suicides on her account and what sensational adventures！
How old was this seductive woman now？ Sixty； seventy； seventy…five！
Julie Romain here； in this house！ The woman who had been adored by the
greatest musician and the most exquisite poet of our land！ I still
remember the sensation （I was then twelve years of age） which her flight
to Sicily with the latter； after her rupture with the former； caused
throughout France。
She had left one evening； after a premiere； where the audience had
applauded her for a whole half hour； and had recalled her eleven times in
succession。 She had gone away with the poet； in a post…chaise； as was
the fashion then； they had crossed the sea； to love each other in that
antique island； the daughter of Greece； in that immense orange wood which
surrounds Palermo； and which is called the 〃Shell of Gold。〃
People told of their ascension of Mount Etna and how they had leaned over
the immense crater； arm in arm； cheek to cheek； as if to throw themselves
into the very abyss。
Now he was dead； that maker of verses so touching and so profound that
they turned； the heads of a whole generation； so subtle and so mysterious
that they opened a new world to the younger poets。
The other one also was deadthe deserted one； who had attained through
her musical periods that are alive in the memories of all； periods of
triumph and of despair； intoxicating triumph and heartrending despair。
And she was there； in that house veiled by flowers。
I did not hesitate； but rang the bell。
A small servant answered； a boy of eighteen with awkward mien and clumsy
hands。 I wrote in pencil on my card a gallant compliment to the actress；
begging her to receive me。 Perhaps； if she knew my name； she would open
her door to me。
The little valet took it in； and then came back； asking me to follow him。
He led me to a neat and decorous salon； furnished in the Louis…Philippe
style； with stiff and heavy furniture； from which a little maid of
sixteen； slender but not pretty； took off the covers in my honor。
Then I was left alone。
On the walls hung three portraits； that of the actress in one of her
roles； that of the poet in his close…fitting greatcoat and the ruffled
shirt then in style； and that of the musician seated at a piano。
She； blond； charming； but affected； according to the fashion of her day；
was smiling； with her pretty mouth and blue eyes； the painting was
careful； fine； elegant； but lifeless。
Those faces seemed to be already looking upon posterity。
The whole place had the air of a bygone time； of days that were done and
men who had vanished。
A door opened and a little woman entered； old； very old； very small； with
white hair and white eyebrows； a veritable white mouse； and as quick and
furtive of movement。
She held out her hand to me； saying in a voice still fresh； sonorous and
vibrant：
〃Thank you； monsieur。 How kind it is of the men of to…day to remember
the women of yesterday！ Sit down。〃
I told her that her house had attracted me； that I had inquired for the
proprietor's name； and that； on learning it； I could not resist the
desire to ring her bell。
〃This gives me all the more pleasure； monsieur；〃 she replied； 〃as it is
the first time that such a thing has happened。 When I received your
card； with the gracious note； I trembled as if an old friend who had
disappeared for twenty years had been announced to me。 I am like a dead
body； whom no one remembers； of whom no one will think until the day when
I shall actually die； then the newspapers will mention Julie Romain for
three days； relating anecdotes and details of my life； reviving memories；
and praising me greatly。 Then all will be over with me。〃
After a few moments of silence； she continued：
〃And this will not be so very long now。 In a few months； in a few days；
nothing will remain but a little skeleton of this little woman who is now
alive。〃
She raised her eyes toward her portrait； which smiled down upon this
caricature of herself； then she looked at those of the two men； the
disdainful poet and the inspired musician； who seemed to say： 〃What does
this ruin want of us？〃
An indefinable； poignant； irresistible sadness overwhelmed my heart； the
sadness of existences that have had their day； but who are still debating
with their memories； like a person drowning in deep water。
From my seat I could see on the highroad the handsome carriages that were
whirling from Nice to Monaco； inside them I saw young； pretty； rich and
happy women and smiling； satisfied men。 Following my eye； she understood
my thought and murmured with a smile of resignation：
〃One cannot both be and have been。〃
〃How beautiful life must have been for you！〃 I said。
She heaved a great sigh。
〃Beautiful and sweet！ And for that reason I regret it so much。〃
I saw that she was disposed to talk of herself； so I began to question
her； gently and discreetly； as one might touch bruised flesh。
She spoke of her successes； her intoxications and her friends； of her
whole triumphant existence。
〃Was it on the stage that you found your most intense joys； your true
happiness？〃 I asked。
〃Oh； no！〃 she replied quickly。
I smiled； then； raising her eyes to the two portraits； she said； with a
sad glance：
〃It was with them。〃
〃Which one？〃 I could not help asking。
〃Both。 I even confuse them up a little now in my old woman's memory； and
then I feel remorse。〃