Sarah Bernhardt in Théodora.
“That,” answered Sophie Croizette, “was a Consul of France—and he is madly in love with you!”
Sarah looked at her, astonished.
“But,” she said, “I have never seen him before!”
“He has seen every performance you have given for nearly six months, since he returned from Rome,” explained Sophie.
“But who is he?” demanded Sarah, enormously intrigued, but uncertain whether to be pleased or to be angry.
“He is a young Republican, a protégé of MacMahon, and was made a consul. His family is a very distinguished one; you will find it in the Liste des Familles,” explained Mlle. Croizette. “He is also a poet, and has written some fine verses about you, which he has been afraid to send. He is the most bashful man in all Paris!”
This was enough to excite the interest of Sarah Bernhardt!
A few nights later she perceived the bashful one in the back seat of a box near the stage. She smiled at him, but the poor young man was too timid to smile back. Sarah determined that, by hook or by crook, she would get to know him. He had, she decided, a face of singular beauty.