I left Paris (what a traveler I was then!) for Lyons, where they were giving both Hérodiade and Manon.
Three days after my arrival there, as I was dining at a restaurant with my two great friends Josephin Soulary, the fine poet of Les Deux Cortèges, and Paul Marieton, the vibrant provincial poet, I was handed the following telegram from Hartmann:
"Fifth performance of Le Cid postponed a month. Enormous advance sale returned. Artists ill."
I was nervous at the time; I fainted away and remained unconscious so long that my friends were greatly alarmed.
At the end of three weeks, however, Le Cid reappeared on the bills, and I realized once more that I was surrounded by deep sympathy, as the following letter shows:
"My dear Confrère:
"I must congratulate you on your success and I want to applaud you as quickly as possible. My turn for my box does not come around until Friday, December 11th, and I beg you to arrange for Le Cid to be given on that day, Friday, December 11.
"H. D'ORLEANS."
How touched and proud I was at this mark of attention from his Royal Highness the Duc d'Aumale!
I shall always remember the delightful and inspiring days passed at the Chateau de Chantilly with my confrères at the Institute Léon Bonnat, Benjamin Constant, Edouard Detaille, and Gérôme. Our reception by our royal host was charming in its simplicity and his conversation was that of an eminent man of letters, erudite but unpretentious. It was captivating and attractive for us when we all gathered in the library where the prince enthralled us by his perfect simplicity as he talked to us, pipe in his mouth, as he had so often done in camp among our soldiers.