I often regret having come into this petty world; not that I hate the world. No . . . I love the world, I love high society and even the demimonde, since I'm a sort of demimondaine myself. But what have I come to do on this Earth, which is so earthly and so earthy? Do I have duties to perform here? have I come here to carry out a mission-a commission? Have I been sent here to amuse myself? to enjoy myself a little? . . . to forget the miseries of a beyond, which I no longer remember? Am I not unwelcome here? What should I say to all these questions? Thinking, almost from the moment of my arrival, that I was doing some good down here, I began to play a few musical airs which I myself had invented. . . . All my troubles stemmed from there.