Then he bowed and wished us a pleasant journey.
Rather more than an hour later we arrived at the station of Emerainville. The station master, learning who we were, received us in a very friendly manner. He made his apologies for not having heard when we called out. He had a frugal meal of bread, cheese, and cider set before us. I have always detested cheese, and would never eat it—there is nothing poetical about it—but I was dying with hunger.
“Taste it, taste it,” said Georges Clairin.
I bit a morsel off and found it excellent.
We got back very late, in the middle of the night, and I found my household in an extreme state of anxiety. Our friends, who had come to hear news of us, had stayed. There was quite a crowd. I was somewhat annoyed at this, as I was half dead with fatigue.
I sent everybody away rather sharply and went up to my room. As my maid was helping me to undress she told me that some one had come for me from the Comédie Française several times.
“Oh, mon Dieu!” I cried anxiously. “Could the piece have been changed?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said the maid. “But it appears that M. Perrin is furious, and that they are all against you. There is the note which was left for you.”
I opened the letter. I was requested to appear before the Administration the following day at two o’clock.
On my arrival at Perrin’s at the time appointed, I was received with an exaggerated politeness which had an undercurrent of severity.