“I am asked for some young _artistes_ to make up the Odéon company. Well, we must attend to this.” He got up, and accompanying me to the door, said, as I went away: “We shall succeed.” I went back home, and began at once to rehearse all my rôles in Racine’s plays. I waited very anxiously for several days, consoled by Mme. Guérard, who succeeded in restoring my confidence. Finally, I received a letter, and went at once to the Ministry. Camille Doucet received me with a beaming expression on his face. “It’s settled,” he said. “Oh, but it has not been easy, though,” he added. “You are very young, but very celebrated already for your headstrong character. The only thing is, I have pledged my word that you will be as gentle as a young lamb.” “Yes, I will be gentle, I promise,” I replied, “if only out of gratitude. But what am I to do?” “Here is a letter for Félix Duquesnel,” he replied; “he is expecting you.” I thanked Camille Doucet heartily, and he then said: “I shall see you again less officially at your aunt’s on Thursday. I have had an invitation this morning to dine there, so you can tell me then what Duquesnel says.” It was then half past ten in the morning. I went home to put some pretty clothes on. I chose an underskirt of canary yellow, a dress of black silk with the skirt scalloped round, and a straw hat trimmed with corn and black ribbon. It must have been delightfully mad looking. Arrayed in this style, feeling very joyful and full of confidence, I went to call on Félix Duquesnel. I waited a few moments in a little room very artistically furnished. A young man appeared, looking very elegant. He was smiling and altogether charming. I could not grasp the fact that this fair-haired, gay young man would be my manager. After a short conversation we agreed on every point we touched. “Come to the Odéon at two o’clock,” said Duquesnel, by way of leavetaking, “and I will introduce you to my partner. I ought to say it the other way round, according to society etiquette,” he added, laughing, “but we are talking theater.” He came a few steps down the staircase with me and stayed there leaning over the balustrade to wish me good-by. At two o’clock precisely I was at the Odéon, and had to wait an hour. I began to grind my teeth, and only the remembrance of my promise to Camille Doucet prevented me from departing. Finally, Duquesnel appeared and took me across to the manager’s office. “You will now see the other ogre,” he said, and I pictured to myself the other ogre as charming as his partner. I was therefore greatly disappointed on seeing a very ugly little man whom I recognized as Chilly. He eyed me up and down most impolitely, and pretended not to recognize me. He signed to me to sit down and, without a word, handed me a pen and showed me where to sign my name on the paper before me. Mme. Guérard interposed, laying her hand on mine. “Do not sign without reading it,” she said.