“Thanks, what day is it to-day?” I asked.
“Monday,” she replied.
I then installed Mme. Guérard at my desk and asked her to reply that I would go there the following day at three o’clock.
I was earning very little at that time at the Odéon. I was living on what my father had left me, that is, on the transaction made by the Hâvre notary, and not much remained. I therefore went to see Duquesnel and showed him the letter.
“Well, what are you going to do?” he asked.
“Nothing. I have come to ask your advice.”
“Oh, well, I shall advise you to stay at the Odéon! Besides, your engagement does not terminate for another year, and I shall not let you leave!”
“Well, raise my salary, then,” I said. “I am offered twelve thousand francs a year at the Comédie. Give me fifteen thousand here and I will stay, for I do not want to leave.”
“Listen to me,” said the charming manager in a friendly way. “You know that I am not free to act alone, but I will do my best, I promise you,” and Duquesnel certainly kept his word. “Come here to-morrow before going to the Comédie, and I will give you Chilly’s reply. But take my advice and if he obstinately refuses to increase your salary, do not leave, we shall find a way. And besides ... anyhow, I cannot say any more!”
I returned the following day according to arrangement. I found Duquesnel and Chilly in the manager’s office. Chilly began at once somewhat roughly: “And so you want to leave, Duquesnel tells me. Where are you going? It is most stupid, for your place is here. Just consider and think it over for yourself. At the Gymnase they only give modern pieces, pieces for dressy plays. That is not your style. At the Vaudeville it is the same. At the Gaieté you would spoil your voice. You are too distinguished for the Ambigu.”