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Updated: June 26, 2025
He only needed rest for a couple of days. Probably his feet had been cold during the meal. "Yes," put in one of the Ruy Blas guests, "there certainly was a fine draught under the table." "Yes," Duquesnel was just replying to some one who was worrying him, "yes; no doubt there was too much heat for his head."
She was not listening to me, though, any longer; she was putting on her cloak. "Are you leaving?" she asked me. "Yes," I replied. "Will you drive me home? I will then tell you " She wrapped a black fichu round her head, and we both went downstairs, accompanied by Duquesnel and Paul Meurice, who saw us into the carriage. She lived in the St. Germain quarter and I in the Rue de Rome.
The little tour was most successful, and I never enjoyed myself more than during this artistic promenade. Duquesnel organised excursions and fetes outside the towns. At first he had prepared, thinking to please me, some visits to the sights of the towns. He had written beforehand from Paris fixing dates and hours.
Duquesnel stayed with him, begging me, however, to go back to the poet's guests. I returned to the room where the supper had taken place. Groups had been formed, and when I was seen entering I was asked if he was still as ill. "The doctor has just arrived, and he cannot yet say," I replied. Victor Hugo approached and said very simply: "It is a beautiful kind of death."
Grandly and nobly on each occasion. March 11. We are preparing for our departure. March 12. Many visits. My apartment was crowded. M. Michel Levy came to ask me for a book. M. Duquesnel, associate director of the Odeon Theatre, came to ask me for Ruy Blas. We shall probably leave to-morrow. Charles, Alice and Victor went to Arcachon. They returned to dinner.
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