She acquired her famous coffin, which never afterwards left her, and in which her remains now lie at Père Lachaise.
She was sued right and left for debt.
Her sister Régine died.
Her own health became precarious, and a physical examination showed a spot on her right lung.
Most of these events occurred within the first three years of her re-engagement at the Comédie Française. Her eight years at this theatre were among the most eventful of her life.
During them she became the darling of one part of Paris, and the scorn of another part. During them she was credited with having had “affairs” with no less than nine prominent men. During them her fame spread throughout the world.
Her quarrel with Sarcey dated from the moment she felt herself strong enough to stand without his aid. I shall never believe that her liaison with Sarcey was actuated by anything except the motives of professional expediency. In fact, she practically admitted this to me.
“Sarcey,” she said, “was one of those highly-gifted but intolerant men whose one aim in life is to mould the opinions of their friends and intimates to suit themselves. He was a brilliant writer, a still more brilliant conversationalist, and there is no doubt that, as a theatrical critic, he was head and shoulders above any other then living in France.
“His judgment was deferred to by most of the theatrical managers, and especially by those at the Comédie, whose political views and connections were the same as those of Sarcey himself. It was said that Sarcey could procure the admission or the resignation of anybody at the Comédie. He was extremely opinionated and very hard to change once he had made up his mind. He hardly ever forgot a slight, and never an insult.
“He was unquestionably an enemy of mine from the beginning, and I made him my friend when it became necessary to do so, but not because I was in any doubt as to his character. I found that, like many geniuses, he was insupportable in private life. He would rave and tear his hair twice or three times a day over matters without the slightest consequence. He usurped the privilege of ‘protecting’ me, and as a consequence a wrong interpretation was put on our friendship by the theatrical world, to which the word ‘protector’ meant only one thing—lover.