I was furious at the man’s insolence, and the blood rushed to my face, but I saw through my half-closed eyes Camille Doucet’s face, that face always so clean shaven and young-looking under his crown of white hair. I thought it was a vision of my mind, which was always on the alert, on account of the promise I had made. But no, it was he himself, and he came up to me.
“What a pretty voice you have!” he said. “Your second appearance will be such a pleasure for us!”
This man was always courteous, but truthful. This début of mine had not given him any pleasure, but he was counting on my next appeai-ance, and he had spoken the truth. I had a pretty voice, and that was all that any one could say from my first trial.
I remained at the Odéon, and worked very hard. I was ready to take any one’s place at a moment’s notice, for I knew all the rôles. I made some success, and the students had a predilection for me. When I came on to the stage I was always greeted by applause from these young men. A few old sticklers used to turn towards the pit and try and command silence, but no one cared a straw for them.
Finally my day of triumph dawned. Duquesnel had the happy idea of putting Athalie on again, with Mendelssohn’s choruses.
Beauvallet, who had been odious as a professor, was charming as a comrade. By special permission from the Ministry he was to play Joad. The rôle of Zacharie was assigned to me. Some of the Conservatoire pupils were to take the spoken choruses, and the female pupils who studied singing undertook the musical part. The rehearsals were so bad that Duquesnel and Chilly were in despair.
Beauvallet, who was more agreeable now, but not choice in his language, muttered some terrible words. We began over and over again, but it was all to no purpose. The spoken choruses were simply abominable. When suddenly Chilly exclaimed:
“Well, let the young one say all the spoken choruses. They will be right enough with her pretty voice!”
Duquesnel did not utter a word, but he pulled his moustache to hide a smile. Chilly was coming round to his protégée after all. He nodded his head in an indifferent way, in answer to his partner’s questioning look, and we began again, I reading all the spoken choruses. Every one applauded, and the conductor of the orchestra was delighted, for the poor man had suffered enough. The first performance was a veritable little triumph for me! Oh, quite a little one, but still full of promise for my future. The audience, charmed with the sweetness of my voice and its crystal purity, encored the part of the spoken choruses, and I was rewarded by three rounds of applause.
At the end of the act Chilly came to me and said, “Thou art adorable!” His thou rather annoyed me, but I answered mischievously, using the same form of speech: