“I grant that Mlle. Croizette is very beautiful in her moon effect. Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt is ideal, too, with her ray of moonlight. I want the moon, therefore, for both of them.” Perrin could not control his anger. There was a discussion between the author and the director, followed by others between the _artistes_, and between the doorkeeper and the journalists who were questioning him. The rehearsal was interrupted; I declared that I would not play the part if I did not have my moon. For the next two days I received no notice of another rehearsal but through Croizette I heard that they were trying my rôle of _Berthe_ privately. They had given it to a young woman whom we had nicknamed “the Crocodile,” because she followed all the rehearsals just as that animal follows boats—she was always hoping to snatch up some rôle that might happen to be thrown overboard. Octave Feuillet refused to accept the change of _artistes_ and he came himself to fetch me, accompanied by Delaunay, who had negotiated matters. “It’s all settled,” he said, kissing my hands, “there will be a moon for both of you.” The first night was a triumph for both Croizette and for me. The party strife between the two clans waxed warmer and warmer, and this added to our success and amused us both immensely, for Croizette was always a delightful friend and a loyal comrade. She worked for her own ends, but never against anyone else. After the “Sphinx” I played a pretty piece in one act by a young pupil of the Polytechnical School, Louis Denayrouse—“La Belle Paule.” This author has now become a renowned scientific man and has renounced his poetry. I had begged Perrin to give me a month’s holiday, but he refused energetically, and compelled me to take part in the rehearsal of “Zaïre,” during the trying months of June and July, and in spite of my reluctance, announced the first performance for the 6th of August. That year it was fearfully hot in Paris. I believe that Perrin, who could not tame me alive, had, without really any bad intention, but by pure autocracy, the desire to tame me dead. Doctor Parrot went to see him and told him that my state of weakness was such that it would be positively dangerous for me to act during the trying heat. Perrin would hear nothing of it. Then, furious at the obstinacy of this intellectual _bourgeois_, I swore I would play on to the death.