My dear Madame Guérard took a cab and hurried away to my mother to get news for me. I put a little more powder on, but the public, not knowing what was taking place, were annoyed with me, thinking I was guilty of some fresh caprice, and received me still more coldly than before. It was all the same to me, as I was thinking of something else. I went on saying Mlle. de Belle-Isle’s words (a most stupid and tiresome _rôle_), but all the time I, Sarah, was waiting for news about my mother. I was watching for the return of _mon petit Dame_. “Open the door on the O.P. side just a little way,” I had said to her, “and make a sign like this if Mamma is better, and like that if she is worse.” But I had forgotten which of the signs was to stand for better, and when, at the end of the third act I saw Madame Guérard opening the door and nodding her head for “yes,” I became quite idiotic. It was in the big scene of the third act, when Mlle. de Belle-Isle reproaches the Duc de Richelieu (Bressant) with doing her such irreparable harm. The Duc replies, “Why did you not say that some one was listening, that some one was hidden?” I exclaimed, “It’s Guérard bringing me news!” The public had not time to understand, for Bressant went on quickly, and so saved the situation. After an unenthusiastic call I heard that my mother was better, but that she had had a very serious attack. Poor mamma, she had thought me such a fright when I made my appearance on the stage that her superb indifference had given way to grievous astonishment, and that in its turn to rage on hearing a lady seated near her say in a jeering tone, “Why, she’s like a dried bone, this little Bernhardt!” I was greatly relieved on getting the news, and I played my last act with confidence. The great success of the evening, though, was Croizette’s, who was charming as the Marquise de Prie. My success, nevertheless, was assured in the performances which followed, and it became so marked that I was accused of paying for applause. I laughed heartily at this, and never even contradicted the report, as I have a horror of useless words. I next appeared as Junie in _Britannicus_, with Mounet-Sully, who played admirably as Nero. In this delicious _rôle_ of Junie I obtained an immense and incredible success. Then in 1873 I played Chérubin in _Le Mariage de Figaro_. Croizette played Suzanne, and it was a real treat for the public to see that delightful creature play a part so full of gaiety and charm. Chérubin was for me the opportunity of a fresh success.