Lockrou, Meurice, Vacquerie and other close friends.

The fare was delightful and unpretentious, and the conversation was the same.

The master sat at the head of the table, with his grandson and granddaughter on either side, saying little but always something apropos.

Thanks to his vigor, his strong sonorous voice, and his quiet good humor, he did not seem like an old man, but rather like an ageless and immortal being, whom Time would never touch.
His presence was just Jove-like enough to inspire respect without chilling his followers.

These small gatherings, which I fully appreciated, are among the most precious recollections of my life.
Time, alas, goes on, and that fine intellect, which had ever been unclouded, began to give signs of aberration.