Sarah stumbled through the rest of the play, and immediately afterwards, learning that Julie had been carried there from the theatre, hurried to her mother’s home.
Meanwhile the danger had passed. When Sarah arrived, she found her mother pale, but otherwise recovered, and taking nourishment.
Returning to her own flat she found a note from Sarcey:
“It was ludicrous. Shall I ever understand you? The first act was wonderful; in the others you spoilt the play!”
Furious that he should not have seen the reason for her agitation, Sarah refused to make any excuse for herself or to give him the slightest explanation. So, when his criticism of the play appeared in Le Temps, five days later, he was evidently in two minds as to whether to praise or condemn. His hesitation shows itself in several passages.
At the beginning of his critique he said:
“It must be admitted that, independently of her personal merit, there have formed around the person of Sarah Bernhardt a number of true or false legends, which excite the curiosity of the public. But it was a disappointment when she appeared. Her costume exaggerated her slenderness, and her face had been whitened too much with powder. The impression was not agreeable.”
This was because he had urged her to modify her costume and she had not done so. Further on, Sarcey wrote that she “trembled convulsively” during the play, and while admitting that she had “marvellous grace,” still insisted that she “was lost in the strong passages.” But he added, “were she to possess a vibrant dramatic quality equal to her enchanting voice, she would be a perfect actress, an actress unequalled at the present day.” This, when his previous articles are remembered, was quite an admission, and he ended his article with a real eulogy:
“At the close of the play the artiste apparently found herself, and for a brief space we could recognise in her Our Sarah—the Sarah of twenty successes.”
By the way, he had not admitted one of those successes himself!