The Most Beautiful Book in the World by Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt

expressing herself more.
    â€œYou are such a good girl, Kumiko, good in the way I was at your age, when I was twenty, when I believed in human honesty, in love, in friendship. You are as naïve as I was, my poor Kumiko, and no doubt some day you will be as disappointed as I have been. I feel sorry for you, my dear, you know. But what does it matter? Hold fast, stay as you are for as long as possible. There will be time enough for disappointment and betrayal.”
    Suddenly she took hold of herself and remembered her plan. Revenge. So she continued, “To reward you, and enable you to believe in human goodness, I have a present for you.”
    â€œNo, I don’t want.”
    â€œYes, I am going to leave to you the only thing of value that I possess.”
    â€œNo, Madame Favart, no.”
    â€œYes, I am leaving you my Picasso.”
    The young girl stood with her mouth gaping.
    â€œYou have noticed the painting above the parakeet cage—well, it’s a Picasso. A real Picasso. I tell everyone it’s a copy so that I won’t have problems with envy or burglars; but you can believe me, Kumiko, it’s a real Picasso.”
    Petrified, the young girl went pale.
    Aimée shivered for a second. Does she believe me? Might she suspect it’s a simulacrum? Does she know anything about art?
    Tears gushed from the girl’s slanting eyes, and she began to whimper, desperate, “No, Madame Favart, you must keep Picasso, you get better. If you sell Picasso, I take you to Japan, new treatment.”
    Phew, she believes me, thought Aimée, and she immediately cried out, “It’s for you, Kumiko, for you, I insist. Come on, let’s not waste time, I’ve only got a few days left. Here, I’ve prepared the documents. Go quick and get some witnesses out in the corridor, that way I can leave with an easy conscience.”
    Aimée signed the necessary documents in the presence of the doctor and the nurse; they added their initials. Shaking with tears, Kumiko gathered up the papers and promised to come back the next day as early as possible. She took an unbearably long time to leave, and kept blowing kisses to Aimée until she had disappeared at the end of the corridor.
    Relieved, alone at last, Aimée smiled to the ceiling.
    Poor goose, she thought, go on and dream about your wealth: you will be even more disappointed once I’m dead. And then you’ll really have a good reason to cry. Between now and then I hope I never see you again.
    No doubt that God in whom Aimée did not believe actually heard her, because at dawn she fell into a coma and, a few days later, although she never realized it, a dose of morphine ended her life.
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    Forty years later, Kumiko Kruk, the wealthiest person in Japan, global queen of the cosmetics industry, now an ambassador for Unicef, an old woman adored by the media for her success, her charisma, and her generosity, stood before the press and justified her humanitarian actions:
    â€œIf I invest part of my profit in the fight against hunger, and to make medical care available to the poorest populations, it is in memory of a dear French friend from my youth, Aimée Favart, who on her deathbed offered me a painting by Picasso that enabled me, when I sold it, to found my company. Although I was practically a stranger to her, she insisted on giving me this priceless gift. Ever since that time, it has seemed logical to me that my profits should, in turn, go to help other strangers. That woman, Aimée Favart, was all love. She believed in humanity like no one else. She passed her values on to me, and that, more than any precious Picasso, is without a doubt her greatest gift.”

Every Reason to Be Happy
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    T o be honest, nothing would have happened if I hadn’t changed my hairdresser.My life would have gone on as peacefully as before, with every outward sign of happiness, had I not been so impressed by