Yet he was at this period as handsome as Antinoeus, with an elegant and slender but powerful figure, waving black hair, expressive and noble features, a beautiful complexion, wide forehead, flashing dark eyes, and a carriage full of grace and poetry. Rare personal beauty and extraordinary strength were striking physical advantages for the stage: the mental qualities were as yet but faintly shadowed forth. On the conclusion of his studies at the Conservatoire young Lemaitre sought admission to the classic Odeon Theatre, and would have failed had not the tragedian Talma perceived what others could not, and insisted that the young man had in him the making of a great actor. He made his "serious" debut at the Odeon, and remained at this theatre five months, but without producing any special impression as an actor. Then removing to the Ambigu, he suddenly achieved a startling and brilliant success, and created the first of that long list of parts which have since won worldwide celebrity, and been played in every polite tongue, in every civilized land. This was Robert Macaire in _L'Auberge des Adrets_. It is no exaggeration to say that Lemaitre _created_ this part, though this verb is used in our day in very slipshod fashion. Robert Macaire was the creation of Lemaitre, and not of the authors of the play. At the rehearsals he repeatedly declared that the part was "impossible," and that the public would never receive it as the authors had written it. The event justified his opinion: the piece was hissed outrageously. But it was redeemed on the second night through the audacity of Lemaitre, who, in strolling about the streets during the day in no very pleasant frame of mind, racked his brains for an expedient for saving the fortunes of the theatre. Suddenly he perceived a strange creature standing before the open-air shop of a cake-seller--an outre individual, clad in indescribable clothing. In some former day the man's garments had been elegant and fashionable, but they were now dropping to pieces. Misery and debauchery could be read in every stain upon them, but the wearer seemed not to have lost a particle of his self-esteem. Standing proudly in a pair of boots all run down at the heel and riddled with holes, a greasy and misshapen felt hat perched on one ear, he daintily broke with the extreme tips of his fingers a piece from a penny cake, carried it to his lips with the delicate air of a dandy, and ate it as if he were an Epicurean philosopher. His collation over, he drew from the pocket of his coat a torn rag, wiped his hands elaborately upon it, dusted his costume airily and then resumed his leisurely promenade up the boulevard. "I've got him!" cried Lemaitre; for here he saw the flesh-and-blood reality of the conception of Robert Macaire which had been running through his brain during the rehearsals of the new piece. That evening the actor appeared on the stage with a coat, hat and boots modeled on those of the man on the boulevard.