“Do please be ready as soon as possible, madame,” he said, “for there are several boats, with the French colors flying that have come out to meet you.”
SARAH BERNHARDT IN TRAVELLING COSTUME, 1880.
I glanced in the direction of my porthole and saw a small steamer, black with people, and then two other small boats no less laden than the first one. The sun lighted up all these French flags and my heart began to beat more quickly. I had been without any news for twelve days, as, in spite of all the efforts of our good captain, L’Amérique had taken twelve days for the journey. A man had just come on deck, and I rushed toward him with outstretched hands unable to utter a single word. He gave me a packet of telegrams. I did not see anyone present, and I heard no sound. I wanted to know something. And among all the telegrams I was searching first for one, just one name. At last I had it, the telegram I had waited for, feared and hoped to receive. Here it was at last. I closed my eyes for a second, and during that time I saw all that was dear to me and felt the infinite sweetness of it all. When I opened my eyes again I was slightly embarrassed for I was surrounded by a crowd of unknown people, all of them silent and indulgent, but evidently very curious. Wishing to go away I took Mr. Jarrett’s arm and went to the salon. As soon as I entered, the first notes of the “Marseillaise” rang out, and our consul spoke a few words of welcome and handed me some flowers. A group representing the French colony presented me with a friendly address. Then M. Mercier, the editor of the Courrier des Etats-Unis, made a speech, as witty as it was kindly. It was a thoroughly French speech. Then came the terrible moment of introductions. Oh, what a tiring time that was! My mind was kept at a tension to catch the names. Mr. Pemb ... Madame Harth ... with the h aspirated. With great difficulty I grasped the first syllable, and the second finished in a confusion of muffled vowels and hissing consonants. By the time the twentieth name was pronounced I had given up listening, I simply kept on with my little risorius de Santorini, half closed my eyes, held out mechanically the arm, at the end of which was the hand that had to shake and be shaken. I replied all the time: “Combien je suis charmée, madame.... Oh, certainement!... Oh, oui!... Oh, non!... Ah!... Oh! Oh!...” I was getting dazed, idiotic—worn out with standing. I had only one idea, and that was to get my rings off the fingers that were swelling with the repeated grips they were having. My eyes were getting larger and larger with terror, as they gazed at the door through which the crowd continued to stream in my direction ... there to shake.... My risorius de Santorini must still go on working more than fifty times ... I could feel the beads of perspiration standing out under my hair—and I began to get terribly nervous. My teeth chattered and I commenced stammering. “Oh, madame!... Oh!... Je suis cha—cha....” I really could not go on any longer. I felt that I should get angry or burst out crying ... in fact that I was about to make myself ridiculous. I decided therefore to faint.... I made a movement with my hand as though it wanted to continue but could not.... I opened my mouth, closed my eyes and fell gently into Jarrett’s arms. “Quick! air!... A doctor.... Poor thing.... How pale she is! Take her hat off.... Loosen her corset.... She doesn’t wear one. Unfasten her dress....” I was terrified, but Félicie was called up in haste and my petite dame would not allow any déshabillage. The doctor came back with a bottle of ether. Félicie seized the bottle.
“Oh, no, doctor ... not ether! When madame is quite well the odor of ether will make her faint.”
This was quite true and I thought, it was time to come to my senses again. The reporters were arriving and there were more than twenty of them, but Jarrett, who was very much affected, asked them to go to the Albemarle Hotel, where I was to put up. I saw each of the reporters take Jarrett aside, and when I asked him what the secret was of all these “asides” he answered phlegmatically: “I have made an appointment with them from one o’clock. There will be a fresh one every ten minutes.” I looked at him petrified with astonishment. He met my anxious gaze and said:
“Oh, oui, il était nécessaire!”
On arriving at the Albemarle Hotel I felt tired and nervous, and wanted to be left quite alone. I hurried away at once to my room in the suite that had been engaged for me and fastened the doors. There was neither lock nor bolt on one of them, but I pushed a piece of furniture against it and then refused emphatically to open it. There were about fifty people waiting in the drawing-room, but I had that feeling of awful weariness which makes one ready to go to the most violent extremes for the sake of an hour’s repose. I wanted to lie down on the rug, cross my arms, throw my head back, and close my eyes. I did not want to talk any more, and I did not want to have to smile or look at anyone. I threw myself down on the floor and was deaf to the knocks on my door, and to Jarrett’s supplications. I did not want to argue the matter, so I did not utter a word. I heard the murmur of grumbling voices and Jarrett’s words tactfully persuading the visitors to stay. I heard the rustle of paper being pushed under the door and Mme. Guérard whispering to Jarrett, who was furious.
“You don’t know her, M. Jarrett,” I heard her say: “if she thought you were forcing the door open, against which she has pushed the furniture, she would jump out of the window!”
Then I heard Félicie talking to a French lady who was insisting on seeing me. “It is quite impossible,” she was saying. “Madame would be quite hysterical. She needs an hour’s rest and everyone must wait!” For some little time I could hear a confused murmur which seemed to get farther away, and then I fell into a delicious sleep, laughing to myself as I went off, for my good temper returned as I pictured the angry, nonplused expression on the faces of my visitors.