This summer, Le Figaro takes you behind the scenes of ordinary or exception. Today, we push for you in the back door of the sales of the house, Drouot, opened in 1852 in the heart of the Ninth arrondissement of the capital.
“I admit that profess friendship for me requires bravery. I pray thee, moreover, to keep this appreciation for you”, admitted in writing by Marcel Proust in 1905 to her dear friend and confidant, the marquis of Albufera. A letter, of fourteen leaves, in which the illustrious writer is engaged on its complex character, sometimes regarded as pretentious, which earned him a few unsuccessful attempts to make a name for himself in the clubs of the big world.
Under the blows of 14: 30, this 10 July, the date of birth of Proust, in one of the sixteen sales rooms of the hotel Drouot, in the heart of the Ninth arrondissement of the capital, Pierre-Yves Lefèvre, auctioneer of the father to the son, tape the first blow of the hammer to formalize …
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