"Certainly; he would be glad to do anything," was the answer.
The next day a pale young man presented himself. "You are Monsieur
Massenet?" I inquired.
"Yes, Madame," came the gentle answer.
Thereupon I gave him the music, and I showed him to a quiet little room in the upper part of the house, which contained a piano, writing-table, pen and ink, etc., and left him to his fate. He came two or three times before I heard him play, and then it was only by chance that I passed through the corridor, and imagine my astonishment at hearing the most divine music issuing from the room where the young man was working. I rushed in, saying:
"What is that?"
"Nothing," he answered.
"Nothing!" I exclaimed. "I never heard anything so exquisite, Do play it again."
"It was simply something that passed through my head," he answered.
"Then let something else pass through your head. I must hear more." I said. Then he played, and I sat and listened to the most bewildering and beautiful music that I ever heard. From that moment there was no more copying. What a genius he is! I wish you could hear him improvise!
We have invited him frequently, and when we are at Petit Val he comes often out to see us, and luxuriates in the repose and comfort of our life here. He has already written some lovely songs under its influence. He composed one called "l'Esclave," and dedicated it to me for my birthday. He accompanies me as no one has ever done before.