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.