"Je vous admire beaucoup. Cet été encore, je relisais pour tromper l'angoisse la rafraîchissante Bilitis"

Moving autograph letter signed by Henry Bataille addressed to Pierre Louÿs, 23 lines in black ink notably evoking his writer friends fallen in the field of honor and entirely imbued with nostalgia.
Fold mark inherent to postal handling, one tear in right margin of the letter at the fold level. Envelope included.
With emotion, Henry Bataille enumerates his poet and writer friends who died in combat or from the consequences of the battles of the Great War: "Dans ces sombres jours, au milieu de l'hacatombe de tous mes amis de jeunesse, d'Humières, Codet et quinze autres... ma pensée se reporte aux joiurs passés. Comment ne pas revivre le passé ?" (In these dark days, amid the slaughter of all my youth friends, d'Humières, Codet and fifteen others... my thoughts return to days past. How can one not relive the past?)
This is why he wishes to renew contact with his friends whom life's vicissitudes have separated: "J'ai déjà éprouvé une vive joie à recauser avec des amis, dont la vie, les circonstances, m'avaient séparé arbitrairement..." (I have already experienced great joy in talking again with friends, from whom life, circumstances, had arbitrarily separated me...) and more particularly with Pierre Louÿs: "Je vous admire beaucoup. Cet été encore, je relisais pour tromper l'angoisse la rafraîchissante Bilitis. C'est loin, c'est près, c'est heureusement éternel. J'aimerais à vous revoir. Pas vous ?" (I admire you greatly. This summer again, I reread the refreshing Bilitis to deceive anguish. It's far, it's near, it's fortunately eternal. I would like to see you again. Don't you?)
He wishes to invite him to his Saturday evenings in which his closest writer and artist friends participate: "Je vous attendrais, avec joie, samedi soir, après diner. C'est le jour où viennent me voir quelques amis, qui sont, probablement presque tous des vôtres" (I would await you, with joy, Saturday evening, after dinner. It's the day when some friends come to see me, who are, probably almost all yours).