“Oh, the good and untamable little creature!”
We embraced, and peace was again concluded between us. But it could not last long, for five days after this reconciliation, about nine o’clock in the evening, M. Perrin was announced at my house. I had some friends to dinner, so I went to receive him in the hall. He held out to me a paper.
“Read that,” said he.
And I read in an English newspaper, the Times, this paragraph:
Drawing-room Comedies of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt, under the management of Sir Julius Benedict.—“The répertoire of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt is composed of comedies, proverbs, one-act plays, and monologues, written specially for her and one or two artistes of the Comédie Française. These comedies are played without accessories or scenery, and can be adapted both in London and Paris to the matinées and soirées of the best society. For all details and conditions please communicate with Mr. Jarrett (secretary of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt) at Her Majesty’s Theatre.”
As I was reading the last lines it dawned on me that Jarrett, learning that I was certainly coming to London, had begun to advertise me. I explained this frankly to Perrin.
“What objection is there,” I said, “to my making use of my evenings to earn money? This business has been proposed to me.”
“I am not complaining—it’s the committee.”
“That is too bad!” I cried, and calling for my secretary, I said, “Give me Delaunay’s letter that I gave you yesterday.”
He brought it out of one of his numerous pockets and gave it to Perrin to read.