-16-

There is a tradition common among poets which says: the gods are at times jealous of man's happiness, and their jeal-ousy drives them to spite, so they set themselves against him... If they truly reasoned, they would smooth his road to happiness, and it would cost them nothing but a redoubling of his thanks to them, and in consequence an increase of their own cheer and delight through all the ages...

True happiness is to make happy the one we love... How so?? That is one of the secrets of the gods.

In the Italian language one does not say "I love you"; one says: "I wish you well." And that is what I felt toward Miss Olga: I wished her much good, and I expressed this feeling of mine by arranging flowers around the piano, and by tending them so they would not wilt... Sometimes, on my return in the evening, I would find a piece of sweet on a little plate beside the vase of flowers... And once I found a note, on which was written: "If you are free tomorrow afternoon and would like to sit on the green meadow, instead of imprisoning yourself in the art institute, you will find me at three o'clock by the pear trees... These spring days are so beautiful!!"

xxxx

After drawing at the Colarossi institute I turned aside, as usual, to spend the evening at the Café du Dôme... And at the first glance at Suzanne's face I read in her eyes — in that special flirting look of her eyes — that she had something to tell me... So I sat down beside her. Calmy was in a circle of companions taking up the affairs of the hour... As for Léa, she was between the two

— one ear turned toward them and one toward us, lest any news escape her! Suzanne said: "Lend me your hearing and your atten-tion... This time I have serious, important things..." I said to her:

"And in the times past, were your things not serious and important? The philosophy of love... the journey to China?" She said:

"I am not joking now, I beg you... You are strange in your ways...

Anyone who knows you would suppose you possess a measure of intelligence... Have you not yet understood that Miss Olga loves you?"

Léa laughed her mocking laugh, and I took notice, and answered Suzanne, jesting and serious at once: "If I have, as you say, some measure of understanding, then — so as not to lose my senses at

These installments, and many others not yet published, will soon appear from "Dar al-Ahad" in a book: "Gibran — Howayek — Paris."

the first little word — I need to love, not to be loved... Love, Miss Suzanne, is an important thing; it is the most important and most beautiful thing in life..." She said eagerly:

"I beg you, tell me what it is, in your view — this love you mean??"

"First of all, I do not share your opinion that love is like a drink of water... nor that the playful woman is dangerous... nor that the man is only a means and the end is the child... as 'Nietzsche' claims in a book of his that Miss Olga gave me, called 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra,' which I read with a feeling in which admiration was mingled with loathing..." Suzanne said:

"Nietzsche had that despairing view because 'Lou Salomé' did not return his love."

And Léa added: "She used to say of him: his gaze is sharp and promises no happiness... In other words, his gaze was not like Gibran's...!"

Suzanne silenced her and went on:

"And no doubt those who fail in love turn away from it to philos-ophy, and to doing good works... and reforming the universe... and composing poetry..." Her eyes took on their flirting look and she said, concluding: "Rest assured that I shall not leave you to phi-losophize and compose poetry!!" I said to her:

"If I do none of that, the credit will not be yours. Believe me."

"To whom does the credit go, then? To... Rosina the Italian??"

"That is my own secret..."

Suzanne was taken aback, then said:

"Tell me at least, my friend, what is love?"