“No—why?”
Sarah did not answer, but returned to Hugo and held out her hand, smiling.
“Very well, then, it is understood—I shall come at eight o’clock.”
Hugo was overjoyed and overwhelmed her with thanks. He was completely taken aback, however, when Sarah Bernhardt arrived at the time mentioned—with four friends!
The table had been laid for two, as Sarah had expected. But Hugo treated the matter as a great joke, entertained them delightfully until midnight with stories of his travels, and went about for days afterwards telling his friends what a “smart woman that Bernhardt was!”
There was never anything but ordinary friendship, and much mutual admiration, between Sarah Bernhardt and Victor Hugo, despite all the rumours that were current then and have been bruited around since. The principal reason for this was, of course, that Sarah was a young woman, while Hugo was nearing the end of his long and active career.
“Victor Hugo?” she answered me once. “A wonderful vieillard (old man).”
Ruy Blas was produced at the Odéon on January 26, 1872, before the most brilliant audience the theatre had ever seen. Every seat had been taken days in advance, and hundreds crowded into the space behind the back rows and stood up throughout the entire performance.
Sarah Bernhardt triumphed. She often told me that never again in her long career did she act so well as she did that night. And Paris agreed with her. She was a literal sensation.
When the play was over, she was forced to respond to more than twenty curtain-calls. She tried to make a little speech of thanks, but failed, broke down and ran off the stage sobbing, to the huge delight and thunderous applause of the audience.