This incident also found its way into print and Sarah’s reputation gained another notch. All this time she had yet to score a genuine success on the stage.
This came towards the end of her first year at the Odéon, in circumstances which were much commented on at the time. All Paris was in arms against Alexandre Dumas, the most maligned author who has ever lived. On the night of the première of Kean, Dumas appeared in a box at the Odéon accompanied by his mistress, Ada Montrin.
Cries came from all over the house calling on him to “send the woman away.” Dumas tried to speak, but his voice was drowned in cat-calls. Hundreds of students stood on their seats, chanting an obscene song that had been written about Dumas.
Finally the woman and Dumas both left—the latter to take refuge behind the wings, and the former to depart from his life for ever.
Duquesnel, Chilly, Berton and the whole company were in terror when the curtain was about to be raised. They expected a warm reception and—they got it. Berton, who was playing the part of Kean, could not make his voice heard beyond the footlights. For a moment there was a question of cancelling the performance.
Then Sarah Bernhardt, in the first big rôle of her career—that of Anna Danby—came upon the stage, and, from the first words, a hush settled over the house. Her glorious voice filled the theatre.
Calm and unflurried, though in reality intensely nervous, Sarah continued speaking her part. The words of the poet were given their exact intonation, every syllable distinct from its neighbour, and fell upon the breathless house like the limpid notes of a flute.
When she had finished, there was at first silence, and then a roar of approval. Sixty students, their hands locked together, rushed round the house and threatened to invade the stage. Sarah, appalled, believed it was a demonstration against her. Her cue came to leave the stage. She rushed off and up to her dressing-room, whence she could dimly hear the unceasing roar from the theatre.
Duquesnel, rushing in, found her white as a sheet with terror. Duquesnel himself was pale, and perspiring in great drops.
“Come!” he said to Sarah, extending his hand, “they want you!”