Perrin used to remonstrate violently with her.
“You are a disgrace to the theatre and to your art!” he said in my hearing on one occasion. “You will ruin the Comédie with your insanities!”
“I will resign, then!” said Sarah promptly. And Perrin immediately became contrite, for Sarah drew more people to the box-office than any two artists the Comédie possessed, even including Mounet-Sully and Sophie Croizette.
Louis Giffard was then one of the lions of Paris. Giffard was a balloonist, and balloon ascensions were the clou of the 1878 Exhibition. Giffard had long been an admirer of Sarah’s, and as he started one of his ascents he threw a wreath of flowers at her as she stood in a little group of spectators. For this gentle act of courtesy she invited him to dine with her.
“Tiens, Sarah!” said Clairin, during this festivity, “there is something you have not done yet—you have not gone up in a balloon!”
“She has her head always in the clouds!” grumpily put in Alexandre Dumas, junior, who had had many a lively passage of arms with his most unruly interpreter. But Sarah took up the suggestion immediately.
Turning enthusiastically to Giffard, she asked: “It is true? Can you take me up in your balloon?”
“It would be the crowning point of my career!” responded Giffard gallantly.
“When can we go?” asked Sarah, all excitement.
“To-morrow morning, if you wish!”