"Gee," said he, at length, "what a mountain to climb!"
"It is sixty miles away," I ventured to suggest.
"Well," he remarked, "I'll climb it some day. As John Russell plastered the Rocky Mountains with 'The City Directory,' so I'll hang a shingle from the top of Mont Blanc: 'Ambition: a comedy in four acts by Charles Frohman.'" And as we went home to Ouchy he told me the secret desire of his heart.
He wanted to write a play.
"Isn't it enough to be a theatrical manager?" I asked.
"No," said he, "a theatrical manager is a joke. The public thinks he spends his days in writing checks and his nights in counting the receipts. Why, when I wanted to become a depositor at the Union Bank in London, the cashier asked me my profession. 'Theatrical manager,' I replied. 'Humph!' said the cashier, taken aback. 'Well, never mind, Mr. Frohman; we'll put you down as 'a gentleman.'"
"But is a playwright," I asked, "more highly reputed than a theatrical manager?"
"Not in America," said Frohman. "Most Americans think that the actors and actresses write their own parts. I was on the Long Branch boat the other day and met a well-known Empire first-nighter. 'What are you going to give us next season, Frohman?' he said.
"'I open with a little thing by Sardou,' I replied.
"'Sardou!' he cried. 'Who in thunder is Sardou?'