“I was far from resting at the Théâtre Français. Less than a year after my début, my sister Regina one evening accidentally trod on Mme. Nathalie’s train. Mme. Nathalie, who was one of the leading ladies, pushed the poor girl so roughly that she knocked her head against a corner and the blood came. I immediately ‘went for’ Mme. Nathalie, gave her a resounding smack, and called her a great stupid! The men were delighted, but the affair created a terrible scandal. The manager told me I must apologize to Mme. Nathalie. I replied—
“‘I will apologize to Mme. Nathalie if she will do the same to my little sister.’
“No arrangement could be made, and I left the House of Molière for the first time.
“Owing to this very pronounced feature in my character, no manager would have anything to do with me. A fairy extravaganza, the Biche au Bois, was being played at the Porte St. Martin, then managed by Marc Fournier, and I learnt that Mlle. Debay, a former Odéon star, who was playing the Princesse Désirée, had been taken ill. As the part was in verse, I said to myself, ‘Here’s my chance,’ and went to see Fournier, who engaged me on the spot. As I was very young, I was asked who I was, and I replied that I was an orphan. I rehearsed twice, and the date of my début was fixed. I sang a duet with Ugalde, who was kind enough to take the trouble of teaching me how to sing it. On the very first night it happened that my guardian was amongst the audience. He immediately recognized me and came to see me, horrified, after the first act. I implored him to say nothing to my mother, but he rushed off and brought her to the theatre. At first she would not let me finish, but finally she yielded to reason, and I played my part to the end, but that was my first and last appearance in extravaganza.
“After the Porte St. Martin came the Gymnase. In May 1863 I was engaged by Montigny to replace Victoria, Lafontaine’s wife. The piece was a vaudeville in rhymes, and I remember having to sing—
‘Un baiser? Non, non!’
“It was too absurd!
“I was very useful to Montigny. I had a marvellous memory, and shrank from no part, however difficult. I never really loved the stage, but as it was my profession I did not mean to let the grass grow under my feet. I was determined to get to the front. One after another I played in Le Père de la Débutante, Le Démon du Jeu by Theodore Barrière, La Maison sans Enfants by Dumanoir, L’Etourneau by Bayard and Laya, Le Premier Pas by Labiche and Delacour, and Un Mari qui lance sa Femme by Raymond Deslandes. In this last piece (April 28, 1864) I was a Russian princess, with nothing to do but eat and dance all the time. This idiotic part disgusted me to such an extent that I vowed not to play it a second time. The day after the first performance I went off to Spain! In the morning I locked my mother in her room so that she could not interfere with me, and off I set with my accomplice, a maid who had been discharged by my mother. We went to Marseilles and got on board a steamer. The only other passenger was a rich wine-merchant from the south of France. You see how practical we were! My great object was to go to Madrid—I was mad to see Spain and its museums—and after encountering a fearful storm we landed at Alicante. I was dreadfully sick, but fortunately I had brought my little golden Virgin, and she gave me hope and consolation.
Mme. Sarah Bernhardt when a girl.