If he had heard my “Burning of the Palace of Sardanapalus” he might have stood me ... two drinks!
XIV
FAUST—CLEOPATRA
Again I relapsed into my habitual gloom and indolence. Like a dead invisible planet I circled round that radiant sun that alas! was doomed so soon to fade into mournful oblivion.
Estelle, star of my dawn, was eclipsed and lost in the noontide brilliance of her mighty rival—my overwhelming and glorious love.
Although I took care never to pass the theatre, never willingly to look at Othelia’s portraits in the shop windows, yet still I wrote—receiving never a sign in reply. My first letters frightened her, and she bade her maid take her no more.
The company was going to Holland, and its last nights were advertised. Still I kept away; to see her again was more than I could bear.
However, hearing that she was to act two scenes from Romeo and Juliet with Abbott, for the benefit of Huet, the actor, I had a sudden fancy to see my own name on a placard beside that of the great actress.
I might be successful under her very eyes!
Full of this childish notion I got permission from the manager and conductor of the Opéra Comique to add an overture of my own to the programme.
On going to rehearsal I found the English company just finishing; broken-hearted Romeo held Juliet in his arms. At sight of the group I gave a hoarse, despairing cry and wringing my hands wildly, I fled from the theatre. Juliet saw and heard me; terror-stricken she pointed me out to those around, begging them to beware of the gentleman with the wild eyes.