He might have had my friendship, if he had wanted it, and it would have been a devoted friendship, but he did not want it.

He told--what I never told--how I got one of his works presented at Weimar, where _Samson_ had just been given.

What he did not tell was the icy reception he gave me when I brought the news and when I expected an entirely different sort of a reception.

From that day on I never intervened again, and I was content to rejoice in his success without expecting any reciprocity on his part, which I knew to be impossible after a confession he made to me one day.

My friends and companions in arms were Bizet, Guiraud and Delibes; Massenet was a rival.