id ways, at my awkward manners and my
ungraceful fashion of entering the parlor; there was kept up between us
a constant interchange of playful raillery, an oral stream of inimitable
pleasantry.

When I was invited to spend the day with her the prospect gave me the
greatest joy, but the aftertaste of the visit was generally bitter, for
usually I committed some mortifying blunder in that family where I felt
myself so misunderstood. Every time I wished to have Jeanne at my house
for dinner it was necessary for my aunt Bertha, who was a person of
authority in the eyes of Jeanne's parents, to arrange the matter for me.

Upon one occasion when little Jeanne returned from Paris she related
to me the story of the "Donkey's Skin," which she had seen acted at the
theatre in the city.

Her time so spent was not lost, for the "Donkey's Skin" was destined to
occupy a prominent place in my life during the next four or five years,
the hours that I wasted upon it were more preciously squandered than
were any others in my life.

Together we conceived the idea of mounting the piece upon the stage
of my miniature theatre. That play of the "Donkey's Skin" brought us
together very often. And little by little the project assumed gigantic
proportions; it grew as the months sped, and amused us in ever
increasing measure; indeed, in proportion to the degree of perfection
to which we were able to bring our conception did we enjoy it. We
manufactured fantastic decorations; we dressed, so that they might take
part in the processions, innumerable little dolls. It will be necessary
for me to speak often of that fairy spectacle which was one of the
important things of my childhood.

And even after Jeanne tired of it I worked over it alone, and I fairly
outdid myself by undertaking enterprises that seemed grand to me, such,
for instance, as my efforts to represent moonlight, great conflagrations
and storms. I also made marvellous palaces and gardens wonderful as
Aladdin's. All my dreams of enchanted regions, of strange tropical
luxuries, which I later found in the distant corners of the world, took
form in the little play of the "Donkey's Skin." Leaving out the mystical
experiences at the commencement of my life, I can affirm that almost all
my fancies had their essay on that tiny stage. I was nearly fifteen when
the last decorations, unfinished ones, were laid away forever in the
cardboard box that served them for a peaceful tomb.

And since