My Double Life: The Memoirs of Sarah BernhardtBernhardt, Sarah
General
My Double Life: The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt
Bernhardt, Sarah
Actors -- France -- Biography; Bernhardt, Sarah, 1844-1923
A competition was opened for the fish costume. I went to an endless
amount of trouble cutting out scales from cardboard that I had painted,
and sewing them together afterwards. I made some enormous gills, which
were to be glued on to César. My costume was not chosen; it was passed
over for that of a stupid, big girl whose name I cannot remember. She
had made a huge tail of kid and a mask with big eyes and gills, but
there were no scales, and we should have to see César’s shaggy coat. I
nevertheless turned my attention to Louise Buguet’s costume and worked
at it with two of the lay sisters, Sister St. Cécile and Sister St.
Jeanne, who had charge of the linen room.
At the rehearsals not a word could be extorted from the Angel Raphael.
She stood there stupefied on the little platform, tears dimming her
beautiful eyes. She brought the whole play to a standstill, and kept
appealing to me in a weeping voice. I prompted her, and, getting up,
rushed to her, kissed her, and whispered her whole speech to her. I was
beginning to be “in it” myself at last.
Finally, two days before the great solemnity, there was a dress
rehearsal. The angel looked lovely, but, immediately on entering, she
sank down on a bench, sobbing out in an imploring voice:
“Oh no; I shall never be able to do it, never!”
“Quite true, she never will be able to,” sighed Mother St. Sophie.
Forgetting for the moment my little friend’s grief, and wild with joy,
pride, and assurance, I ran up to the platform and bounded on to the
form on which the Angel Raphael had sunk down weeping.
“Oh, Mother, I know her part. Shall I take her place for the rehearsal?”
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed voices from all sides.
“Oh yes, you know it so well,” said Louise Buguet, and she wanted to put
her band on my head.
“No, let me rehearse as I am, first,” I answered.
They began the second scene again, and I came in carrying a long branch
of willow.
“Fear nothing, Tobias,” I commenced. “I will be your guide. I will
remove from your path all thorns and stones. You are overwhelmed with
fatigue. Lie down and rest, for I will watch over you.”
Whereupon Tobias, worn out, lay down by the side of a strip of blue
muslin, about five yards of which, stretched out and winding about,
represented the Tigris.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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