Even to-day, a conservative estimate of the time required for preparation for the Conservatoire is eighteen months. Many children start studying for it when they are ten or eleven. Rarely has any pupil succeeded in entering without at least nine months’ preliminary study. And Sarah had only nine weeks!
Aunt Rosine was sceptical of Sarah’s ability to pass the examinations. The Duc de Morny was consoling.
“You will not pass this time,” he said, “but there are other examinations next year.”
As to Julie Van Hard, she was inexorable with her daughter.
“You are my daughter. You shall not disgrace me by failing!” she said to Sarah.
Julie took the child out, and bought her books by the dozen. They consulted Hugo Waldo, an actor acquaintance, and on his advice chose the plays of Corneille, Molière and Racine. Julie wanted the child to select a part in Phédre for her examination, but Mlle. de Brabender, the probationer nun, said that this could not be permitted, as Phédre was too shocking a rôle to place on the lips of a jeune fille.
In the end, Sarah learned the part of Agnes in Molière’s Ecole des Femmes, but never used it in the examination. She passed most of her time learning to pronounce her “o’s” and “r’s” and “p’s,” and in practising the art of pronouncing each syllable separately and in putting the accent in the tone, rather than on the syllabic divisions. Nowhere is French spoken entirely purely, except on the stage of the better Paris theatres.
The day of the examinations came, and Sarah was by now word-perfect. To enable her to say her part, however, it was necessary for someone to give the cues. This had not been thought of.
Julie, whose taste in dress was exquisite but a trifle exotic, had out-done herself in her purchases of things for Sarah to wear on the great day. The gown was black, deeply décolleté about the shoulders; a corset accentuated the extreme slenderness of her waist; the skirt was short, but lacy drawers, beautifully embroidered, descended to the beaded slippers.
Around her neck, Sarah wore a white silk scarf. Her hair, after an hour’s tussle with the hairdresser, had been combed and tugged into some sort of order and was bound tightly back from the forehead with a wide black ribbon. The effect was bizarre. One of George Clairin’s best-known sketches of Sarah showed her in the hands of the hairdresser on this occasion, her mother standing near.