The agents, who had bought two hundred thousand francs’ worth of tickets beforehand, also refused to regard the affair as binding on them if we did not go. Mayer came to see me in profound despair and told me all about it. “We shall have to break our contract with the Comédie if you don’t come,” he said, “for the business cannot go through.” Frightened at the consequences of my bad temper, I ran to see Perrin, and told him that after the consultation I had just had with Mayer, I understood the involuntary injury I should be causing to the Théâtre Français and to my comrades, and I told him I was ready to go under any conditions. The Committee was holding a meeting. Perrin asked me to wait and shortly after he returned: Croizette and I had been appointed Associates with full benefit (_Sociétaires à part entière_), not only for London, but for always. Everybody had done his duty. Perrin, very much touched, took both my hands and drew me to him: “Oh, the good and untamable little creature!” We embraced and peace was again concluded between us. But it could not last long, for five days after this reconciliation, about nine o’clock in the evening, M. Perrin was announced at my house. I had company for dinner. Nevertheless, I was about to receive him in the hall. He held out to me a paper. “Read that,” said he. And I read in an English newspaper, the _Times_, this paragraph: “_Drawing-room Comedies of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt, under the management of Sir Benedict:_ “The _répertoire_ of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt is composed of comedies, proverbs, one-act plays and monologues, written especially for her and one or two _artistes_ of the Comédie Française. These comedies are played without accessories or scenery, and can be adapted both in London and Paris to the _matinées_ and _soirées_ of the best society. For all details and conditions please communicate with Mr. Jarrett (Secretary of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt) at His Majesty’s Theatre.” As I was reading the last lines it dawned on me that Jarrett, learning that I was certainly coming to London, had begun to advertise me. I frankly explained this to Perrin. “What objection is there,” I said, “to my making use of my evenings to earn money, as the thing has been offered me?” “That has nothing to do with me—it is the business of the Committee.” “That is too much!” I cried, and calling for my secretary I said: “Give me Delaunay’s letter that I gave you yesterday.” He brought it out of one of his numerous pockets and gave it to Perrin to read: Would you care to come and play “La Nuit d’Octobre” at Lady Dudley’s on Thursday, June 5th? They will give us each 5,000 francs. Kind regards, DELAUNAY. “Let me have this letter,” said the manager, visibly annoyed. “No, I will not. But you may tell Delaunay that I have told you of his offer.”