Dear Marie-Blanche,

[In his introduction], François Valéry was willing to evoke all of those beautiful hours spent at Princess Edmond's home on the avenue Henri-Martin, at Jouy-en-Josas, at Jean’s, at your mother’s, at your home on the rue Barbet-de-Jouy.

I am still afraid to touch these memories, to break the silence that keeps them intact, and to betray them with my clumsiness. Yet, this reluctance, undoubtedly generated by pride, must be overcome, because the image that you left me with is so beautiful that it will perhaps help those who did not know you very well to imagine you, since you were so reserved.

Never did you share a secret with me, nor did you bother me for mine. The true meetings between us took place beyond words. I can therefore speak of you with complete liberty, just as you appeared to me.

Yes, you were a very reserved person, much stronger and more serious than your fragility and your charm at first revealed, and perhaps for that reason even a bit enigmatic. Your personality was composed of so many contradictory and complementary traits.

When it suited you, you could give off that air of looking without seeing that socialites and diplomats sometimes have. Many people thus spent time around you without suspecting what was hidden behind your elegance, your politeness, and your beauty. They sometimes took your silences as a little disdain, indifference, or for a dash of snobbery, which you encouraged them to do, cleverly playing along with them.

What, then, were, your thoughts? What dreams pursued, what hopes disappointed, what searches for the unattainable? … I do not know. But if a painting captured your gaze, or a poem your attention, whether the sky or other people attracted it, then you would emerge from your reverie and let us see immediately, whether you permitted it or were caught by surprise, who you truly were. For evidence, I need only your recordings.

What are the characteristics one discovers there: first of all, rigor, scrupulous fidelity to the texts, the comprehension of poems, a rare intuition and a refined culture, an infallible taste, the taste that permits risks without danger, the ability to adapt to each work's style and character.