This series of waltzes has occupied some of my gloomy hobbies in these last

months. I do not exaggerate the musical value. But I tried to conceal

emotions and fix moments that have counted in my life. If I dared to repeat
the word of a great master, I would say that this music was written for me
and some good friends.
Written or how P Tantot at night, in the office of the General Staff,
sometimes in the woods, in a hut shaken by the cannon, sometimes during the
interminable winter days, agonizing and gloomy.

No.11, which traces an image and summarizes memories, was composed of a

place where the perpetual snapping of bullets made the birds air. Between
Nos. 8 and 9 has passed a painful period. A restful step separates No.11
and 12

For No. 12, I ask a great indulgence. I know all that can be blamed for
ease to the melodic idea of this piece. But she deserved to be noted
because of her spontaneity, her deep sincerity, the fidelity with which she
expresses a state of mind and especially because of the imperious
persistence with which she has imposed herself on me. It was during a
journey by car, between V ... and the General's command post, A B ... that
this motive arose in me and, as it were, invaded me. They spoke to me and I
answered. But, not for a moment, this air needed to sing in my head, as if
my heart was bursting into an inexhaustible flow.
This waltz, dated from the end of October (when I wrote it) dates, in fact,
from the middle of september.