“Oh! I assure you, monsieur, I am a hundredfold more unhappy about it than you, for the baron is a good and charming man; he is short of political tact, and in this case it is excusable because I am not a woman of politics. I was lacking in coolness. I would give my right hand to repair the ill.” “We don’t ask you for so much as that. And that would spoil the beauty of your gestures!” (He was French, you see). “Here is the rough copy of a letter; will you take it, rewrite it, sign it and everything will be at an end.” But that was unacceptable. The wording of this letter gave twisted and rather cowardly explanations. I rejected it and after several attempts to rewrite it, I gave up in despair and did nothing. Three hundred persons had been present at the supper, in addition to the royal orchestra and the attendants. Everybody had heard the amiable but awkward speech of the baron. I had replied in a very excited manner. The public and the Press had all been witnesses of my tirade; we were the victims of our own foolishness, the baron and myself. If such a thing were to happen at the present time I should not care a pin for public opinion, and I should even take pleasure in ridiculing myself in order to do justice to a brave and gallant man. But at that time I was very nervous, and uncompromisingly patriotic. And also, perhaps, I thought I was some one of importance. Since then life has taught me that if one has to be famous it can only be after Death has set his seal to life. To-day I am going down the hill of life and I regard gaily all the pedestals on which I have been lifted up, and there have been so many of them that their fragments, broken by the same hands that had raised them, have made me a solid pillar, from which I look out on life, happy with the past and expectant of the future. My stupid vanity had wounded one who meant me well, and this incident has always left in me a feeling of remorse and chagrin. I left Copenhagen in the midst of applause and repeated cries of _Vive la France_! From all the windows hung the French flag, fluttering in the breeze, and I felt that this was not only _for_ me, but _against_ Germany—I was sure of it. Since then the Germans and the Danes are solidly united and I am not certain that several Danes do not still bear me malice because of this incident of the Baron Magnus. I came back to Paris to make my final preparations for my journey to America. I was to set sail the 15th of October. One day in August, I was having a reception of all my friends, who came to see me in full force because I was about to set out for a long journey. [Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT AND MEMBERS OF HER COMPANY OUT SHOOTING.]