Marquita, who had just arrived, also persuaded me, and Mme. Ulgade was sent for to rehearse the duos I was to sing. Yes, and I was to sing with a veritable _artiste_, one who was considered to be the first _artiste_ of the Opéra Comique. The time passed by, and Josse helped me to rehearse my rôle, which I almost knew, as I had seen the piece often, and I had an extraordinary memory. The minutes flew, and the half hours made up entire hours. I kept looking at the clock, the large clock in the manager’s room, where I was studying my rôle. Mme. Ulgade rehearsed with me. She thought my voice was pretty, but I kept singing wrong, and she helped and encouraged me all the time. I was dressed up in Mlle. Debay’s clothes, and finally the moment arrived and the curtain was raised. Poor me! I was more dead than alive, but my courage returned after a triple burst of applause for the couplet which I sang on waking, in very much the same way as I should have murmured a series of Racine’s lines. When the performance was over Marc Fournier offered me, through Josse, a three years’ engagement; but I asked to be allowed to think it over. Josse had introduced me to a dramatic author, Lambert Thiboust, a charming man who was certainly talented, too. He thought I was just the ideal actress for his heroine, _La Bergère d’Ivry_, but M. Faille, an old actor who had become the manager of the Ambigu Theater, was not the only person to consult. A certain M. De Chilly had some interest in the theater. He had made his name in the rôle of _Rodin_ in the “Juif Errant,” and, after marrying a rather wealthy wife, had left the stage, and was now interested in the business side of theatrical affairs. He had, I think, just given the Ambigu up to Faille. De Chilly was then helping on a charming girl named Laurence Gérard. She was gentle and very _bourgeois_, rather pretty, but without any real beauty or grace. Faille told Lambert Thiboust that he had spoken to Laurence Gérard, but that he was ready to do as the author wished in the matter. The only thing he stipulated was that he should hear me before deciding. I was willing to humor the poor fellow, who must have been as poor a manager as he had been an _artiste_. I acted for him at the Ambigu Theater. The stage was only lighted by the wretched _servante_, a little transportable lamp. About a yard in front of me I could see M. Faille balancing himself on his chair, one hand on his waistcoat and the fingers of the other hand in his enormous nostrils. This disgusted me horribly. Lambert Thiboust was seated near him, his handsome face smiling, as he looked at me encouragingly. I was playing in “On ne Badine pas avec l’Amour,” because the play was in prose, and I did not want to take poetry. I believe I was perfectly charming in my rôle, and Lambert Thiboust thought so, too; but when I had finished, poor Faille got up in a clumsy, pretentious way, said something in a low voice to the author, and took me to his own room.