“Well?” prompted Duquesnel. “Let me say it for you—it is the money!”
Sarah gave a sigh of relief. She had been afraid he would divine her real reason. And, anyway, the money played no small part in her determination to return to the Comédie.
“Yes,” she admitted, “of course, it is the money. Perrin offers me twelve thousand francs a year. Give me fifteen thousand and I will remain here.”
The largest salary hitherto paid by the Odéon to an artist was the 10,000 francs a year which had been earned by Mounet-Sully before he, too, was taken by the Comédie Française. Sarah and Duquesnel both knew that it was impossible that she should be given fifteen.
“I will talk to Chilly,” said he at last, “but I do not think he will agree.”
The next day Chilly sent for her. His manner was abrupt, rude. But Sarah understood the man by this time. She knew that his brusque manner was only his way of concealing emotion.
“So,” he said, “you want to leave us—idiot!”
“I do not want to leave,” answered Sarah, “but I am offered more money!”
“Your place is here! There is not a theatre in Paris which can offer you more than the Odéon, except the Comédie, and of course you will never——”
Sarah tendered him the envelope she had received from Perrin, and Chilly started as he saw the inscription on the back.