I was just commencing a picture which interested me very much. It represented a little girl on Palm Sunday, carrying branches of palm. The little model who posed for me was a lovely Italian of eight years old. Suddenly she said to me: “He’s quarreling—that Englishman!” As a matter of fact, in the anteroom there was a noise of voices rising higher and higher. Irritated, I rushed out, my palette in my hand, resolved to make the intruder flee. But just at the moment when I opened the door of my studio, a tall man came so close to me that I drew back, and he came into my hall. His eyes were clear and piercing, his hair silvery white, and his beard carefully trimmed. He made his excuses very politely, admired my paintings, my sculpture, my hall—and this while I was in complete ignorance of his name. When at the end of ten minutes I begged him to sit down and tell me to what I owed the pleasure of his visit, he replied in a stilted voice with a strong accent: “I am Mr. Jarrett, the _impresario_. I can make your fortune. Will you come to America?” “Never!” I exclaimed firmly. “Never!” “Oh, well, don’t get angry! Here is my address—don’t lose it.” Then, at the moment he took leave, he said: “Ah! you are going to London with the Comédie Française. Would you like to earn a lot of money in London?” “Yes. How?” “By playing in drawing-rooms. I can make you a small fortune.” “Oh, I would be pleased to do that—that is, if I go to London, for I have not yet decided.” “Then will you sign a little contract to which we will add an additional clause?” And I signed a contract with this man, who inspired me with confidence at first sight—a confidence which he never betrayed. The Committee and M. Perrin had made an agreement with John Hollingshead, director of the Gaiety Theater, in London. Nobody had been consulted and I thought that was a little too free and easy. So when they told me about this agreement, I said nothing. Perrin rather anxiously took me aside: “What are you turning over in your mind?” “I am turning over this: that I will not go to London in a situation inferior to anybody. For the entire term of my contract I intend to be Associate _à part entière_ (with full benefit).” This intention excited the Committee highly. And the next day Perrin told me that my proposal was rejected. “Well, I shall not go to London. That is all! Nothing in my contract obliges me to go.” [Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT, PORTRAIT BY CLAIRIN.] The Committee met again, and Got cried out: “Well, let her stay away! She is a regular nuisance!” It was therefore decided that I should not go to London. But Hollingshead and Mayer, his partner, did not see it in this light, and they declared that the contract would not be binding if either Croizette, Mounet-Sully, or I did not go.