Mme. Guérard adored the proud rebelliousness of my nature, my pretty face, and the slenderness of my figure; Mlle. De Brabender was touched by my delicate health. She endeavored to comfort me when I was jealous for not being loved as much as my sister, but what she liked best about me was my voice. She always declared that my voice was modulated for prayers and my delight in the convent appeared to her quite natural. She loved me with a gentle, pious affection, and Mme. Guérard loved me with bursts of paganism. These two women, whose memory is still dear to me, shared me between them and made the best of my good qualities and my faults. I certainly owe to both of them this study of myself and the vision I have of myself. The day was destined to end in the strangest of fashions. Mme. Guérard had gone back to her apartment upstairs and I was lying on a little straw armchair which was the most ornamental piece of furniture in my room. I felt very drowsy and was holding Mlle. De Brabender’s hand in mine, when the door opened and my aunt entered, followed by my mother. I can see them now, my aunt in her dress of puce silk trimmed with fur, her brown velvet hat tied under her chin with long, wide strings, and mamma, who had taken off her dress and put on a white woolen dressing gown. She always detested keeping on her dress in the house, and I understood by her change of costume that everyone else had gone, and that my aunt was ready to leave. I got up from my armchair, but mamma made me sit down again. “Rest yourself thoroughly,” she said, “for we are going to take you to the theater this evening, to the Français.” I felt sure that this was just a bait and I would not show any sign of pleasure, although in my heart I was delighted at the idea of going to the Français. The only theater I knew anything of was the Robert Houdin, to which I was taken sometimes with my sister, and I fancy that it was for her benefit we went as I was really too old to care for that kind of performance. “Will you come with us?” mamma said, turning to Mlle. De Brabender. “Willingly, madame,” replied this dear creature. “I will go home and change my dress.” My aunt laughed at my sullen looks. “Little fraud,” she said, as she went away, “you are hiding your delight. Ah, well, you will see some actresses to-night!” “Is Rachel going to act?” I asked. “Oh, no, she is ill.”