Several days passed by and I had nothing to do at the theater. Finally, one morning, I received a notice requesting me to be present for the reading of a play. It was “Dolorès,” by M. De Bornier. This was the first time I had been asked to the reading of a new piece. I was evidently to have the creation of a rôle. All my sorrows were at once dispersed like a cloud of butterflies. I told my mother of my joy, and she naturally concluded that as I was asked to go to a reading, my engagement was not to be canceled and I was not to be asked again to apologize to Mme. Nathalie.
I went to the theater, and to my utter surprise I received from M. Davennes the rôle of Dolorès, the chief part in Bornier’s play. I knew that Favart, who should have had this rôle, was not well, but there were other artistes for it, and I could not get over my joy and surprise. Nevertheless, I felt somewhat uneasy. A terrible presentiment has always warned me of any troubles about to come upon me.
I had been rehearsing for five days when one morning, on going upstairs, I suddenly found myself face to face with Nathalie, seated under Gérôme’s portrait of Rachel, known as “The Red Pimento.” I did not know whether to go downstairs again or to pass by. My hesitation was noticed by the spiteful woman.
“Oh, you can go by, mademoiselle,” she said. “I have forgiven you, as I have avenged myself. The rôle that you like so much is not to be left to you after all.”
I went by without uttering a word. I was thunderstruck by her speech, which I guessed would prove true.
I did not mention this incident to anyone, but continued rehearsing. It was on Tuesday that Nathalie had spoken to me, and on Friday I was disappointed to hear that Davennes was not there and that there was to be no rehearsal. Just as I was getting into my cab the hall porter ran out to give me a letter from Davennes. The poor man had not ventured to come himself and give me the news, which he was sure would be so painful to me.
He explained to me in his letter that on account of my extreme youth—the importance of the rôle—such responsibility for such young shoulders—as Mme. Favart had recovered from her illness, it was wiser, etc. I finished reading the letter through blinding tears, but very soon anger took the place of grief. I rushed back again and up to the manager’s office. He could not see me just then, but I said I would wait. At the end of an hour, thoroughly impatient, taking no notice of the office boy and the secretary, who wanted to prevent my entering, I opened the door of M. Thierry’s office and walked in. I was desperate, and all that anger with injustice and fury with falsehood could inspire me with, I let him have in a stream of eloquence only interrupted by my sobs. The manager gazed at me in bewilderment. He could not conceive of such daring and such violence in a girl so young.
When at last, thoroughly exhausted, I sank down on an armchair, he tried to calm me, but all in vain.
“I will leave at once,” I said. “Give me back my engagement and I will send you back mine.”
Finally, tired of argument and persuasion, he called his secretary in, gave him the necessary orders, and the latter soon brought in my engagement.