Naturally, the _Vaudeville_ was no longer open to her. But, as Arnold Bennett (then not yet the distinguished novelist) wrote in _P. T. O._,[104] though “Réjane may now and then suffer a brief eclipse, she can be absolutely relied upon to emerge in a more blinding glory. Exiled from her proper home, the _Vaudeville_, she naturally wanted a theatre. She has got it. She took hold of the _Nouveau Théâtre_, the unlikeliest and one of the most uncomfortable theatres in Paris--the Lamoureaux concerts alone have succeeded there. She removed everything from within its four walls, and presently frequenters of the _Rue Blanche_ observed that the legend _Théâtre Réjane_ had been carved on its façade. Last week she announced to her friends (that is to say, to Paris) that she would be ‘at home’ on such and such a night. The invitation added, ‘Comedy will be played.’ Her friends went, and discovered the wonderfullest theatre in the town, incredibly spacious, with lounges as big as the auditorium, wide corridors, and a scheme of decoration at once severe and splendid. Réjane was written all over it, even in the costumes of the women attendants. Paris was charmed, astounded, electrified; and now Réjane flames a more brilliant jewel than ever in the forehead of the capital.” There, during the past ten years, she has appeared in more than a score of new plays, none of them, perhaps, a new _Sans-Gêne_ or _Marquise_, but each serving to keep in vigorous use one of the rarest talents of the time. During this time, too, she has acted in South America (1909), and occasionally, and as recently as the spring of 1915, she has gone to London, where she has always been appreciated, sometimes to act in the regular theatres, and sometimes to give in the music halls one-act pieces like _Lolotte_, and scenes from the longer plays.[105] “Madame Réjane long since announced to the world, by publicly going about with a grown-up daughter, that she meant no more to depend for even the smallest part of her charm and her power upon the semblance of youthfulness,” wrote Mr. Bennett in 1906. “She is a middle-aged woman, and she doesn’t care who knows it.” She is now even more certainly a middle-aged woman, but she still has much of her essential vitality, and of the force of a distinguished personality.