The examination was to take place a month after this visit. The difficulty was to choose a piece for the examination. My mother did not know any theatrical people. My godfather advised me to learn “Phèdre,” but Mlle. De Brabender objected, as she thought it a little offensive, and refused to help me if I chose that. M. Meydieu, our old friend, wanted me to work at _Chimène_, in “Le Cid,” but first he declared that I clenched my teeth too much for it. It was quite true that I did not make the O open enough, and did not roll the R sufficiently, either. He wrote a little notebook for me, which I am copying exactly, as my poor, dear Guérard kept religiously everything concerning me, and she gave me, later on, a quantity of papers which are very useful now. The following are my old friend’s instructions: “Every morning instead of do ... re ... mi ... practice te ... de ... de ... in order to learn to vibrate.... “Before breakfast repeat forty times over: Un-très-gros-rat-dans-un-très-gros-trou—in order to vibrate the R. “Before dinner repeat forty times: Combien ces six saucisses-ci? C’est six sous, ces six saucisses-ci. Six sous ces six saucisses-ci? Six sous ceux-ci, six sous ceux-ci, six sous ceux-là; six sous ces six saucisses-ci!—in order to learn not to whizz the S. “At night when going to bed repeat twenty times: Didon, dina dit-on du dos d’un dodu dindon.... And twenty times: Le plus petit papa petit pipi petit popo petit pupu.... Open the mouth square for the D, and pout for the P....” He gave this piece of work quite seriously to Mlle. De Brabender, who quite seriously wanted me to practice it. My governess was charming, and I was very fond of her, but I could not help yelling with laughter when, after making me go through the “te ... de ... de” exercise, which went fairly well, and then the “très-gros-rat,” etc., she started on the _saucisses_ (sausages). Ah, no, that was a cacophony of hisses in her toothless mouth, enough to make all the dogs in Paris howl! And when she began with the “Didon” ... accompanied by the “plus petit papa,” I thought my dear governess was losing her reason. She half closed her eyes, her face was red, her mustache bristled up, she put on a sententious, hurried manner, her mouth widened out and looked like the slit in a money box, or else it was creased up into a little ring, and she purred and hissed and chirped without ceasing. I flung myself exhausted into my wicker-work chair, choking with laughter, and great tears poured from my eyes. I stamped on the floor, flung my arms out right and left until they were useless, and rocked myself backward and forward, screaming with laughter.