On arriving at the convent the next day, at the hour fixed, I found the Sisters in such a state of consternation that I was alarmed. What could have happened, I wondered? They pointed to the door of the cell without uttering a word. The nuns were standing round the bed, on which was the most extraordinary-looking being imaginable. My poor governess, lying rigid on her deathbed, had a man’s face. Her mustache had grown longer, and she had a beard of half an inch all round her chin. Her mustache and beard were sandy, while the long hair framing her face was white. Her mouth, without the support of the teeth, had sunk in so that her nose fell on the sandy mustache. It was like a terrible and ridiculous-looking mask, instead of the sweet face of my friend. It was the face of a man, while the little, delicate hands were those of a woman. There was an awestruck expression in the eyes of the nuns in spite of the assurance of the nurse, who had declared to them that the body was that of a woman. They had dressed the poor dead body, but the poor little Sisters were trembling and crossing themselves all the time. The day after this dismal ceremony I made my début at the Odéon in “Le Jeu de l’Amour et du Hasard.” I was not suitable for Marivand’s pieces, as they require a certain coquettishness and an affectation which were not then among my qualities. Then, too, I was rather too slight, so that I had no success at all. Chilly happened to be passing along the corridor, just as Duquesnel was talking to me and encouraging me. Chilly pointed to me and remarked: “They are no good, these grand folks, there is not even any pluck about them.” I was furious at the man’s insolence, and the blood rushed to my face, but I saw through my half-closed eyes Camille Doucet’s face, that face always so clean shaven and young looking, under his crown of white hair. I thought it was a vision of my mind, which was always on the alert, on account of the promise I had made. But no, it was he himself, and he came up to me. “What a pretty voice you have,” he said. “Your second appearance will be such a pleasure to us!” This man was always courteous, but truthful. This début of mine had not given him any pleasure, but he was counting on my next appearance, and he had spoken the truth. I had a pretty voice, and that was all that anyone could say. I remained at the Odéon and worked very hard. I was always ready to take anyone’s place at a moment’s notice, for I knew all the rôles. I had some success, and the students approved of me. When I came on the stage I was always greeted by applause from them. A few old sticklers looked down at the pit to command silence, but no one cared a straw for them.