ABSTRACT
It had all come too late. O f course, he enjoyed having more money than he’d ever had in his life before. It was flattering to be sought after and interviewed by newspapers and magazines. Few writers had known his luck in finding such a large audience for his views. Yet 'success’ had an empty ring. He had always lived simply, and once he bought himself and the animals pre sents there was nothing much else to spend the money on. As for the women who chased him, they were bores. There was, it is true, a mystery woman at the end. He never wrote about her. All that is known o f her is a nude photograph in which the face is modestly hidden by hair. It was found in his pocket when he died. Stuck to the back was a piece o f paper on which he had written: cS’il m’arrivait de partir, ne parle jamais de moi. Que personne ne sache, ne se doute seulement combien je t’ai aimee. Garde ce souvenir en toi, comme un secret.’
