MME. GUÉRARD, THE GREAT FRIEND OF SARAH BERNHARDT WHEN A CHILD. From a Photo. by Delintraz.
M. Lesprin muttered something, I did not catch what. The abominable man gave a very curt bow, as Mme. Guérard was so simply dressed. The Duc de Morny was very gracious, for the new-comer was so pretty. My godfather merely bent his head, as Mme. Guérard was nothing to him. Aunt Rosine glanced at her from head to foot—Mme. Guérard was by no means rich. Mlle. de Brabender shook hands cordially with her, for Mme. Guérard was fond of me.
My uncle, Félix Faure, gave her a chair and asked her to sit down, and then inquired in a kindly way about her husband, a savant, with whom my uncle collaborated sometimes for his book, "The Life of St. Louis."
Mamma had merely glanced across the room without raising her head, for Mme. Guérard did not prefer my sister to me.
"Well, as we have come here on account of this child," said my godfather, looking at his watch, "we must begin and discuss what is to be done with her."
I began to tremble, and drew closer to "mon petit dame," as I had always called Mme. Guérard from my infancy, and to Mlle. de Brabender. They each took my hand by way of encouraging me.
"Yes," continued M. Lesprin, with a laugh, "it appears you want to be a nun."
"Ah, indeed?" said the Duc de Morny to Aunt Rosine.
"'Sh! Be serious," she remarked. Mamma shrugged her shoulders and held her wools up close to her eyes to match them.