The press was represented as usual.
I took refuge with my interpreters in the wings. They were all there and they were highly excited. In their emotion it seemed as if they were to pass a final sentence on me, that they were about to give a verdict on which my life depended.
I can give no account of the impression of the audience. I had to leave the next day with my wife for Italy, so I had no immediate news.
The first echo of Marie Magdeleine reached me at Naples in the form of a touching letter from the ever kindly Ambroise Thomas.
This is what the master, always so delicately attentive to everything which marked the steps of my musical career, wrote:
PARIS, April 12, 1873
As I am obliged to go to my country place to-day, I shall, perhaps, not have the pleasure of seeing you before your departure. In the uncertainty I cannot postpone telling you, my dear friend, how pleased I was last evening and how happy I was at your fine success.
It is at once a serious, noble work, full of feeling. It is of our times, but you have proved that one can walk the path of progress and still remain clear, sober, and restrained.
You have known how to move, because you have been moved yourself.
I was carried away like everyone else, indeed more than anyone else.