Among the number were Girardin, Count Kapenist, Marshal Canrobert, Georges Clairin, Arthur Meyer, Duquesnel, the beautiful Augusta Holmes, Raymond de Montbel, Nordenskyjold, O’Connor, and other friends. I chatted gaily, happy to be surrounded by so many tender and intellectual friends. Girardin did all he could to persuade me not to undertake this journey to America. He had been the friend of Rachel and told me the sad end of her journey. Arthur Mayer was of opinion that I ought always to do what I thought best. The other friends discussed the affair. That admirable man, whom France will always worship, Canrobert, said how much he should miss and regret these intimate _causeries_ at our five o’clock teas. “But,” said he, “we have not the right to try, in our affectionate selfishness, to hinder our young friend from doing all she can in the strife. She is of a combative nature.” “Ah, yes!” I cried, “I am born for the strife, I feel it. Nothing pleases me like having to master a public—perhaps hostile—who have read and heard all that the Press have to say against me. But I am sorry that I cannot play, not only in Paris, but in all France, my two big successes, ‘Adrienne’ and ‘Froufrou.’” “As to that, you can count on me,” cried Félix Duquesnel. “My dear Sarah, you had your first successes with me and it is with me that you will have your last.” Everybody exclaimed and I jumped up. “Why wait,” said he, “for the last successes until you come back from America? If you will consent you can count on me for everything. I will obtain, at any price, theaters in all the large towns and we will give twenty-five performances during the month of September. As to the money conditions, they will be of the simplest: twenty-five performances—50,000 francs. To-morrow I will give you the half of this sum and you shall sign the contract, so that you will not have time to change your mind.” I clapped my hands joyfully. All the friends who were there begged Duquesnel to send them, as soon as possible, a plan of the tour, for they all wanted to see me in the two plays in which I had carried off the laurels in England and Belgium and Denmark. Duquesnel promised to send them the details of the tour, and it was settled that their visits would be drawn by lot from a little bag and each town marked with the date and the name of the play. A week later, Duquesnel, with whom I had signed the contract, returned with the entire tour planned out and all the company engaged. It was almost miraculous. The performances were to commence on Saturday the 4th of September, and there were to be twenty-five of them; and the whole, including the day of departure and the day of return, was to last twenty-eight days, which caused this tour to be called “The twenty-eight days of Sarah Bernhardt,” like the twenty-eight days of a citizen who is obliged to undertake his military service.