After the prison scene, the other might be indifferently either good or bad, for success was assured. This was not unfortunate!
The seventh scene, like the third, was the weakest in the work; it was saved by its wit, and because, all things considered, the spectators, like Harel, thought King Louis, the headstrong, was a droll figure.
Finally came the fifth act, which had so much frightened Harel. It was divided into two scenes: the eighth, of a diabolical humour; the ninth, which, for appalling dramatic character might be compared with the second. Something about it reminded one of the ancient fatalism of Sophocles, blended with the scenic terrors of Shakespeare. So its success was enormous, and the name of M. Frédérick Gaillardet was proclaimed amidst loud applause.
Madame Odilon Barrot was in ecstasy, and enjoyed herself like a schoolgirl. Odilon Barrot, little accustomed to melodramatic theatrical displays, was astounded that emotion could be carried so far. Of course, as in the case of Richard Darlington, Harel came and made me all sorts of offers if I would consent to have my name mentioned. I had refused in Richard, where nothing pledged me to it; I refused more firmly still in the case of La Tour de Nesle, where I was bound both by a promise of honour and a written one.
I returned home, I vow it, without a single feeling of regret. It was, however, the first performance of a play which was to hold the bills for nearly eight hundred times! Next day, several of my friends, who knew the part I had taken in La Tour de Nesle, came to pay me their compliments. Amongst these was one of my best friends, Pierre Collin.
"Do you know what Harel has done?" he said to me as he was coming in.
"What has he done?"
"What he has put on the bills?"
"No."
"Instead of proceeding as in mathematics, from the known to the unknown, he has proceeded from the unknown to the known."