At Baron’s I ordered six costumes for _Adrienne Lecouvreur_ and four costumes for _Hernani_. I ordered from a young theatre _costumier_ named Lepaul my costume for _Phèdre_. These thirty-six costumes cost me sixty- one thousand francs; but out of this my costume for _Phèdre_ alone cost four thousand francs. The poor _artist-costumier_ had embroidered it himself. It was a marvel. It was brought to me two days before my departure, and I cannot think of this moment without emotion. Irritated by long waiting, I was writing an angry letter to the _costumier_ when he was announced. At first I received him very badly, but I found him looking so unwell, the poor man, that I made him sit down and asked how he came to be so ill. “Yes, I am not at all well,” he said in such a weak voice that I was quite upset. “I wanted to finish this dress, and I have worked at it three days and nights. But look how nice your costume is!” And he spread it out with loving respect before me. “Look!” remarked Guérard, “a little spot!” “Ah, I pricked myself,” answered the poor artist quickly. But I had just caught sight of a drop of blood at the corner of his lips. He wiped it quickly away, so that it should not fall on the pretty costume as the other little spot had done. I gave the artist the four thousand francs, which he took with trembling hands. He murmured some unintelligible words and withdrew. “Take away this costume, take it away!” I cried to _mon petit Dame_ and my maid. And I cried so much that I had the hiccoughs all the evening. Nobody understood why I was crying. But I reproached myself bitterly for having worried the poor man. It was plain that he was dying. And by the force of circumstances I had unwittingly forged the first link of the chain of death which was dragging to the tomb this youth of twenty- two—this artist with a future before him. I would never wear this costume. It is still in its box, yellowed with age. Its gold embroidery is tarnished by time, and the little spot of blood has slightly eaten away the stuff. As to the poor artist, I learnt of his death during my stay in London in the month of May, for before leaving for America I signed with Hollingshead and Mayer, the _impresarii_ of the Comédie, a contract which bound me to them from May 24 to June 24 (1880). It was during this period that the law-suit which the Comédie Française brought against me was decided. Maître Barboux did not consult me about anything, and my success in London, which was achieved without the help of the Comédie, irritated the committee, the Press, and the public. Maître Allou in his pleadings pretended that the London public had tired of me very quickly, and did not care to come to the performances of the Comédie in which I appeared. The following list gives the best possible denial to the assertions of Maître Allou: PERFORMANCES GIVEN BY THE COMÉDIE FRANÇAISE AT THE GAIETY THEATRE (The * indicates the pieces in which I appeared.)