“Well, then, what will you recite, mademoiselle?” asked Leautaud, with the most _outré_ accent possible. “I will recite a fable,” I replied. He burst out laughing as he wrote down my name and the title, “Deux Pigeons,” which I gave him. I heard him still laughing under his heavy mustache as he continued his round. He then went back into the _Conservatoire_, and I began to get feverish with excitement, so that Mme. Guérard was anxious about me, as my health, unfortunately, was very delicate. She made me sit down, and then she put a few drops of _eau de Cologne_ behind my ears. “There, that will teach you to wink like that!” were the words I suddenly heard, and a girl with the prettiest face imaginable had her ears boxed soundly. Nathalie Mauvoy’s mother was correcting her daughter. I sprang up, trembling with fright and indignation, and was as angry as a young turkey cock. I wanted to go and box the horrible woman’s ears in return, and then to kiss the pretty girl who had been insulted in this way, but I was held back firmly by my two guardians. Dica Petit now returned, and this caused a diversion in the waiting room. She was radiant and quite satisfied with herself. Oh, very well satisfied, indeed! Her father held out a little flask to her in which was some kind of cordial, and I should have liked some of it, too, for my mouth was dry and burning. Her mother then put a little woolen square over her chest before fastening her coat for her, and then all three of them went away. Several other girls and young men were called before my turn came. Finally, the call of my name made me jump as a sardine does when pursued by a big fish. I tossed my head to shake my hair back, and my _petite dame_ stroked my “badly dressed” silk. Mlle. De Brabender reminded me about the O and the A, the R, the P, and the T, and I then went alone into the hall. I had never been alone an hour in my life. As a little child I was always clinging to the skirts of my nurse; at the convent I was always with one of my friends or one of the Sisters; at home either with Mlle. De Brabender or Mme. Guérard, or if they were not there, in the kitchen with Marguerite. And now, there I was alone in that strange-looking room, with a platform at the end, a large table in the middle, and, seated round this table, men who either grumbled, growled, or jeered. There was only one woman present, and she had a loud voice. She was holding an eyeglass, and, as I entered, she dropped it and looked at me through her opera glass. I felt everyone’s gaze on my back as I climbed up the few steps to the platform. Leautaud bent forward and whispered: “Make your bow and commence, and then stop when the chairman rings.” I looked at the chairman, and saw that it was M. Auber. I had forgotten that he was Director of the _Conservatoire_, just as I had forgotten everything else. I at once made my bow, and began: