Laughing Torso

PARIS AND BRITTANY

or scream, will you meet me here to-morrow? "
They were charming and said that they would and
I was conveyed home to bed, I saw him several
times, and the day he left Paris I had luncheon with
him and he gave me a hundred francs and asked me
if I would buy myself some flowers. I did, but a
very small bunch, and lived in comfort for the rest
of the week. I have never seen him since but hope,
perhaps, that he will see this book and know that I
have not completely vanished.
I don't much like writing about funerals, but I
shall have to because Erik Satie died and I thought
that I ought to go to his. He lived at Arcueuil with
his umbrellas and was to be buried there in the
village church. I took a train on the morning of
the funeral at the Gare d'Orleans by myself. On
the platform waiting for the train was the painter
Ortiz de Zarate. I found that he was going to the
funeral too and so we got into the same carriage;
I was glad to have someone to go with. When
we got to Arcueuil we asked the way to the church,
which was about ten minutes' walk. The ceremony
had already begun. The church was filled, there
were politicians and all the B&uf, Brancusi, Cocteau,
Moise, Valentine and Jean Hugo, Yvonne George,
Wassilieff, all Les Six, and the Ecole d'Arcueuil,
Erik Satie's own school of musicians, of which
Sauguet is the only one whose name I can re-
member. This was the second funeral I had
gone to, and, although it was very sad, as I missed
my afternoon seances with Satie at the D6me,
he was an old man and had, lived his life and