Feuilles de forêt . ys écrivant un opéra: Je peux penser à toutes ses parties clairement et de manière désinvolte jusqu'à un certain point, quand soudain il y a une pause Andi ne peut aller plus loin. La force physique me semble empêcher. Bien que les mélodies cassées continuent à marteler sur mon cerveau, et les notes noires danceavant mes yeux jusqu'à ce qu'ils me aveugle assez avec la douleur. Mais enfin, je ne sais pas comment, une agence de ce genre intervient entre moi et le fiasco qui empêche mon travail, m'aidant à le terminer, mais avec une FORÊT LAISSE 87 efforts infinies. Car dans le rêve, l'opéra est toujours terminé. Alors, je me réveille avec un début, et il

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Forest leaves . ys writing an opera: I can think out all its parts clearly and dis-tinctly up to a certain point, when suddenly there comes a break andI can go no further. Physical force seems to prevent me. though thebroken melodies still hammer on my brain, and the black notes dancebefore my eyes till they fairly blind me with pain. But finally—I donot know how—some kind agency intervenes between me and the ob-stacle which prevents my work, helping me to finish it. though with an FOREST LEAVES 87 infinite effort. For in the dream the opera is always finished.Then—I wake with a start, and it is all gone, and I am lying here likea useless log, without an opera or a brain, without even a memory!And Gian Lorenzo sighed drearily. For a few moments there was silence; till the physician, leaningforward, began to speak, quietly yet impressively, in his deep, fulltones: It is no dream: it is reality. Listen and you will understand.From the beginning of your illness this opera was the incessant subject. Milan. of your wanderings. Night and day you dwelt on it, begging everyone to bring it to you; but no attention was paid, as it was only con-sidered a curious phase of delirium. When I first saw you I realizedthat there might be something more in it than the mere wanderingsof unconsciousness. I made inquiries at the barracks, and, thanks toan old friend of yours—the bandmaster—discovered the famous opera.It was the only chance—though a slight one—of saving your life andreason to let you attempt finishing it; but, still in a state of uncori- 38 FOREST LEAVES sciousness, you did so; but the effort very nearly cost you your life.Now it remains to be seen what fame this dearly-bought masterpieceis to bring its composer! He concluded lightly, not wishing to over-excite his patient. But Gian Lorenzo seemed scarcely to have heardthe ending; his eyes, dim with emotion, were fixed on the doctorsface. 1 Then it is to you, doctor, that I owe my life; you were the goodange

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