Coquelin was requested to ask Lloyd to take my part, as she had played this rôle at the Comédie when I was ill. Lloyd was afraid to undertake it, though, and refused. It was decided to change the play, and “Tartuffe” was given instead of “L’Etrangère.” Nearly all of the public, however, asked to have their money refunded, and the receipts, which would have been about £500, only amounted to £84. All the spite and jealousy now broke loose, and the whole company of the Comédie, more particularly the men, with the exception of Mr. Worms, started a campaign against me. Francisque Sarcey, as drum major, beat the measure with his terrible pen in his hand. The most foolish, slanderous, and stupid inventions and the most odious lies took their flight like a cloud of wild ducks and swooped suddenly down upon all the newspapers that were against me. It was said that for a shilling anyone might see me dressed as a man; that I smoked huge cigars leaning on the balcony of my house; that at the various receptions where I gave one-act plays, I took my maid with me for the dialogue; that I practiced fencing in my garden, dressed as a _pierrot_ in white, and that when taking boxing lessons, I had broken two teeth for my unfortunate professor. Some of my friends advised me to take no notice of all these turpitudes, assuring me that the public could not possibly believe them. They were mistaken, though, for the public likes to believe bad things about anyone, as these are always more amusing than the good things. I soon had a proof that the English public was beginning to believe what the French papers said. I received a letter from a tailor asking me if I would consent to wear a coat of his make when I appeared in masculine attire, and not only did he offer me this coat for nothing, but he was willing to pay me a hundred pounds if I would wear it. This man was quite an ill-bred person, but he was sincere. I received several boxes of cigars, and the boxing and fencing professors wrote to offer their services gratuitously. All this annoyed me to such a degree that I resolved to put an end to it. An article by Albert Wolff in the Paris _Figaro_ caused me to take steps to cut matters short. And I wrote in reply to it as follows: ALBERT WOLFF, FIGARO, PARIS: