"No, Manon. That is all."
"May I hear the music?"
"When you like."
"This evening?"
"Impossible, it is nearly midnight."
"What? I can't wait till morning. I feel that there is something in it. Go and get the score. You will find me in my apartment (the artiste lived in the Champs Élysées) with the piano open and the lights lit."
I did as she said.
I went home and got the score. Half-past four had struck when I sang the final bars of Manon's death.
During my rendering Heilbronn was moved to tears. I heard her sigh through her sobs, "It is my life ... that is my life."