At Baron’s I ordered six costumes for “Adrienne Lecouvreur,” and four costumes for “Hernani.” I ordered from a young theater _costumier_ named Lepaul, my costume for “Phèdre.” These thirty-six costumes cost me 61,000 francs; but out of this my costume for “Phèdre” alone cost 4,000 francs. The poor _artiste-costumier_ had embroidered it himself. It was a marvel. It was brought to me two days before my departure and I cannot think of this moment without emotion. Irritated by long waiting, I was writing an angry letter to the _costumier_ when he was announced. At first I received him very badly, but I found him looking so ill, the poor man, that I made him sit down and asked how he came to be so ill. “Yes, I am not at all well,” he said in such a weak voice, that I was quite upset. “I wanted to finish this dress and I have worked at it three days and nights. But look how nice it is, your costume!” And he spread it out with loving respect before me. “Look!” remarked Guérard, “a little spot!” “Ah, I pricked myself,” answered the poor _artiste_ quickly. But I had just caught sight of a drop of blood at the corner of his lips. He wiped it quickly away so that it should not fall on the pretty costume as the other little spot had done. I gave the _artiste_ the 4,000 francs, which he took with trembling hands. He murmured some unintelligible words and withdrew. “Take away this costume, take it away!” I cried to my _petite dame_ and my maid. And I cried so much that I had the hiccough all the evening. Nobody understood why I was crying. But I reproached myself bitterly for having worried the poor man. It was plain that he was dying. And by the force of circumstances I had unwittingly forged the first link of the chain of death which was dragging to the tomb this youth of twenty-two—this _artiste_ with a future before him. I would never wear this costume. It is still in its box yellowed with age. Its gold embroidery is tarnished by time, and the little spot of blood has slightly reddened the stuff. As to the poor _artiste_, I learned of his death during my stay in London in the month of May, for before leaving for America I signed with Hollingshead and Mayer, the _impresarios_ of the Comédie, a contract which bound me to them from the 24th May to the 24th June (1880). It was during this period that the lawsuit which the Comédie Française brought against me was judged. Maître Barboux did not consult me about anything, and my success in London, which was achieved without the help of the Comédie, irritated the Committee, the press, and the public. Maître Allon, in his pleadings, pretended that the London public, which was quickly tired of me, would not now come to those performances of the Comédie in which I appeared. The following list gives the best possible denial to the assertions of Maître Allon: _Performances given by the Comédie Française at the Gaiety Theatre. The crosses indicate the pieces in which I appeared._