If It Die... [antikvár]

I was born on November 22nd, 1869. My parents at that time lived in the Rue de Médicis in an apartment on the fourth floor which they left a few years later and of which I have kept no recollection. Stay though, I do remember the balcony, or rather what could be seen from the balcony - the bird's-eye viewof the Place with its ornamental piece of water and fountain; or rather, to be still more exact, I remember the paper dragons which my father used to cut out for me and which we launched into the air from the balcony; I remember their floating away in the wind over the fountain in the Place below and being carried away as far as the Luxembourg Gardens, where they used sometimes to catch in the top branches of the horse-chestnut trees. I remember too a biggish table - the dining-room table no doubt - with its table-cloth that reached nearly to the ground; I used to crawl underneath it with the concierge's little boy, who sometimes came to play with me. 'What are you up to under there?' my nurse would call out. 'Nothing; we're playing.' And then we would make a great nőise with our playthings, which we had taken with us for the sake of appearances. In reality, we amused ourselves otherwise, beside each other but not with each other; we had what I afterwards learnt are called 'bad habits'. Which of us two taught them first to the other ? I have no idea. Surely a child may sometimes invent them for himself. Personally, I cannot say whether anyone instructed me in the knowledge of pleasure or in what manner I discovered it - I only know that as far back as my recollection goes, I cannot remember a time without it. I perfectly realize, for that matter, that I am doing myself harm by relating this and other things that follow; I foresee what use will be made of them against me. But the whole