The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination belong to you; but what I am within myself is mine alone.
I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of my summer bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return. And if I do, who knows but what everything may have become strange to me?
(Last page written in pencil.)--It is my wish that when I am dead, I may be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a rough unplaned coffin, and buried under the apple-tree, on the road that leads to my paternal mansion. I desire that my brother and other relatives may be apprised of my death at once, and that they shall not disturb my grave by the wayside.
No stone, no name, is to mark my grave.
ÉMILE AUGIER
(1820-1889)
