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7 March. -- I paid a visit to the young Mme Roquenton, temporarily widowed since midnight. She received me with a graciousness made all the more charming by her melancholy. We spoke of one thing and another and also of her husband. She told me how he vanished into nothingness. They were both in bed. At one minute to midnight, Roquenton was holding his wife’s hand and giving her his last recommendations. On the stroke of midnight, she suddenly felt the hand of her companion evaporate in her grasp. There was nothing left beside her but an empty pair of pajamas and a set of false teeth on the pillow. This vivid description moved us both a great deal. Since Lucette Roquenton was shedding a few tears, I opened my arms to her.
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