Whilst waiting for the appearance of the chef-d'œuvre, we aired our own views on the subject. I was acquainted with and had heard Lucrèce. I knew that it was an estimable tragedy of the schoolboy type, conscientiously put together by its author, who, perhaps slightly ignorant of the Roman eras, seemed to me to have confused the Rome of the kings with that of the emperors, Sextus Tarquin with Caligula, Tully with Messalina; but, nevertheless, I maintained that the work, devoid though it was of imagination and dramatic power, deserved a hearing because of its style, when Méry said—
"I mean to write a Lucrèce, and to get it played before Ponsard's Lucrèce itself appears. It is advertised for the 25th of the month; it is now the 14th—it will not be played till the 30th. There is more than time enough to compose two thousand lines, to get them read, distributed, rehearsed and played."
"How long will it take you to complete your tragedy?" I said to Méry.
"Why! four hundred lines an act, five acts in five days——"
"So, to-morrow night you can give us the first Act?"
"To-morrow night, yes."
We arranged to meet again the next evening, not in the least counting on the first Act of Méry's Lucrèce. Next day we were all at the appointed place, punctual to the minute. We turned ourselves into an audience to listen to his reading. A glass of water was brought to Méry. He sat down at the table, and we made a circle round about. He drew his manuscript from his pocket, coughed, just moistened his lips with the water and read the following scenes.
He had not finished the Act because he had been interrupted, but as we entered the salle à manger he offered to finish what was wanting before the end of the evening.
LUCRÈCE
TRAGÉDIE