“At last I am free and my own mistress,” she said. “Perrin cannot make me work when I don’t want to, and all the critics can go to the devil!”
It was predicted that the fine of one hundred thousand francs imposed on Sarah for breaking her contract with the Comédie would be a blow from which she would find it hard to recover.
“We shall hear less of our dear Sarah now! She will go away and leave us in peace!” wrote Paul de St. Victor, her ancient enemy of the Ruy Blas banquet.
But instead of sinking under the blow, Sarah only worked the harder. She was absolutely tireless at this period. Her visits to London and to Brussels were organised chiefly to avoid the process-servers, who were hammering at the door of her house in Paris with blue papers ordering her to pay the hundred thousand francs.
Sarah had not then the money to pay her fine, but for one full year her creditors could not legally obtain a judgment against her by default (which would have meant the sacrifice of her house, and of all its treasures). So after they had made the customary three visits to her Paris home, had knocked thrice on the door, and had instituted condemnation proceedings, Sarah returned to Paris and set about organising a whirlwind tour of the provinces, to precede her departure for America.
Sarah met the Prince and Princess of Wales at Brussels, and charmed and was charmed by them. They saw her in Froufrou while the guests of the King and Queen of the Belgians. This was the beginning of a long and precious friendship between Sarah and the Princess (afterwards Queen Alexandra) which lasted until Sarah’s death.
After Sarah’s Brussels visit the Princess—who was by birth Danish, as everybody knows—obtained for us a Royal command to perform before the King and Queen of Denmark at Copenhagen. Five performances only were asked for, and for these Sarah demanded 120,000 francs and our expenses. The sum was immediately agreed to.
Sarah did not like Denmark. She was in a bad humour throughout the visit. We were lent the Royal yacht, on which to make a trip on the fjords. It was a lovely day and I can hear still the beautiful voices of the Upsal Choir, blending so perfectly with the grandeur of the landscape.
Vicomte de Bondy, an attaché then at the French Legation, met us on the trip and begged me to introduce him to Sarah. I agreed, but when we approached her we were dismayed to hear her giving her opinion of the country to a friend, in no uncertain terms.
“Je m’en fiche de leur pays! Ils m’embêtent!” she cried. The nearest translation to this, in English slang, would be: “I’m fed up with their country! They bore me to death!” Only the language was a trifle stronger!