hat one
realized the great artist was at home heresurrounded by the people she
loved and understood. True to the "homing" instinct of the French peasant
Madame Calvewhen fortune came to herbought and partially restored
the rambling chateau which at sunset casts its shadow across the village of
her birth. Since that day every moment of freedom from professional labor
and every penny of her large income are spent at Cabrieresbuilding
planningeven farmingwhen her health permits.
I think she continued
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happiest day of my life - and I haveas you knowpassed some hours
worth livingboth on and off the stage - was whenthat wing completeda
Paris train brought the first occupants for my twenty little bedrooms; no
words can tell the delight it gives me now to see the color coming back to
my patients' pale lips and hear them laughing and singing about the place.
As I am always short of fundsthe idea of abandoning this work is the
only fear the future holds for me.
With the vivacity peculiar to her charactermy companion then
whipped up her cobs and turned the conversation into gayer channels. Five
minutes later we clattered over a drawbridge and drew up yilai：
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