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Updated: May 24, 2025
Marshall and I were absorbed in each other and art. It was always so. We dined in a gargotte, and afterwards we went to a students' hall; and it seems like yesterday. I can see the moon sailing through a clear sky, and on the pavement's edge Marshall's beautiful, slim, manly figure, and Marie's exquisite gracefulness. She was Lefèvre's Chloe; so every one sees her now. Her end was a tragic one.
So few people want to study that sort of thing, and there were good masters already in the place. If I had known how to play, indeed! But I was never better than a fifth-rate executant; I had never gone in for that; my "lay" was composition. I couldn't give piano lessons, I couldn't play in public unless in a gargotte like the hole we have just left. Oh, I tried everything.
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