He laughed with his silly little laugh and said to me, squeezing my hand (for he was very gallant): “Work it up; I think that you will play it.” In fact, eight days after I was called to the directorial office, and Perrin told me that he had announced “Phèdre” for the 21st of December, the fête of Racine, with Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt in the part of _Phèdre_. I thought I should fall. “Well, but what about Mlle. Rousseil?” I asked. “Mlle. Rousseil wishes to have the Committee promise that she shall become an Associate in the month of January, and the Committee, which will without doubt appoint her, refuses to make this promise, and declares that this demand is like a threat. But perhaps Mlle. Rousseil will change her plans, and in that case you will play _Aricie_ and I will change the bill.” Coming out from Perrin’s I ran up against M. Regnier. I told him of my conversation with the director and of my fears. “No, no,” said the great _artiste_ to me, “you must not be afraid! I see very well what you are going to make of this rôle. But all you have to do is to be careful and not force your voice. Make the rôle sorrowful rather than furious—it will be better for everyone—even Racine.” Then, joining my hands, I said: “Dear M. Regnier, help me to work up _Phèdre_ and I shall not be so much afraid.” He looked at me rather surprised, for in general I was neither docile nor apt to be guided by advice. I own that I was wrong, but I could not help it. But the responsibility which this put upon me made me timid. Regnier accepted and gave me a rendezvous for the following morning at nine o’clock. Roselia Rousseil persisted in her demand to the Committee, and “Phèdre” was billed for the 21st of December, with Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt for the first time in the rôle of _Phèdre_. This caused quite a sensation in the artistic set and in the theater-loving world. That evening over two hundred people were turned away at the ticket office. And when I was told that I began to tremble so much that my teeth chattered. Regnier comforted me as best he could, saying: “Courage! Cheer up! Are you not the spoiled darling of the public? They will take into consideration your inexperience in important first parts, etc....” These were the last words he should have said to me. I should have felt stronger if I had known that the public were come to oppose and not to encourage me. I began to cry bitterly, like a child. Perrin was called and consoled me as well as he could; then he made me laugh by putting powder on my face so awkwardly that I was blinded and suffocated. Everybody in the theater knew about it and stood at the door of my dressing-room wishing to comfort me. Mounet-Sully, who was playing _Hippolyte_, told me that he had dreamed: “We were playing ‘Phèdre’ and you were hissed, and my dreams always go by contraries—so,” he cried, “we shall have a tremendous success!”