Letter writing followed, in the course of which he told me how highly he regarded my friendship—more highly in fact than anything else in the world. For my part I thought of him more often than I should care to confess, but I had my wits about me sufficiently to announce to him, at the cost of a great effort of will, that he was too young for our feelings of regard for each other to continue without danger to both, and that he ought to forget me.
Just at this time there was presented to me a viscount, who laid claim to my heart and hand. Need I confess that, with my eyes still filled with pictures of the other man, I could not endure his assiduous importunity. No one is deafer, says a French proverb, than who he is unwilling to hear. And the viscount would not listen to my discouraging remarks.
He seemed to have imposed upon himself, in spite of my rebuffs, which were often severe and always discourteous, the task of bringing me to terms. Undoubtedly, in spite of my reserve and coldness, he might eventually have succeeded if one fine evening he had not dropped out altogether under threat of legal proceedings. He had a well-established reputation as a swindler.
During the time when the viscount was playing his game to win my affections, my good friend’s communications stopped coming. I wrote him several letters. They were never answered.
Some years later, in 1900, I had installed my theatre, as is perhaps still remembered, at the Universal Exposition in Paris.
One day as I was on my way to the theatre I saw at a distance my lover of the days at Nice. My heart began to beat violently.
My friend approached. We were going to pass each other. He had not yet seen me; for he was walking with his eyes on the ground. Standing still, with my left hand restraining the beating of my heart, I waited, feasting my eyes upon him. He turned his head and passed me.
I was destined not to see him again for a long time.
Meantime, indeed, I learned through a third person that he had told his father of his desire to marry me. A violent scene took place between the two men. The father threatened to disinherit him. The poor boy was sent away, almost by main force, on a voyage round the world.
I have frequently reflected since then on the part the “viscount” played in all this affair, and I should not be astonished to learn that he led some artful embassy against His Majesty King Love.