Memories and Vagaries have been out of print for long. Death was due to
natural cause, and the few mourners who accompanied the book to the
common grave of oblivion, have so far borne their loss with stubborn
resignation. So have I, until the long-forgotten book was read to me the
other day by a friendly voice. As I listened with a compassionate smile
on my lips to these humble stories, I suddenly felt a pang in my heart,
and I wished I could write to-day just such a book as this with all its
shortcomings, its boyish boisterousness, its guileless
self-consciousness, its incorrigible joie de vivre and its unshaken
faith. Alas! I shall wish it in vain, it is my youth I wish for! La vie
s'en va, Madame, la vie s'en va ! Hélas! la vie non, mais nous, nous en
allons.