The doctor came back with a bottle of ether. Félicie seized the bottle. “Oh no, doctor—not ether! When Madame is quite well the odour of ether will make her faint.” This was quite true, and I thought it was time to come to my senses again. The reporters were arriving, and there were more than twenty of them; but Jarrett, who was very much affected, asked them to go to the Albemarle Hotel, where I was to put up. I saw each of the reporters take Jarrett aside, and when I asked him what the secret was of all these “asides,” he answered phlegmatically, “I have made an appointment with them for one o’clock. There will be a fresh one every ten minutes.” I looked at him, petrified with astonishment. He met my anxious gaze and said: “_Ah oui; il était nécessaire._” On arriving at the Albemarle Hotel I felt tired and nervous, and wanted to be left quite alone. I hurried away at once to my room in the suite that had been engaged for me, and fastened the doors. There was neither lock nor bolt on one of them, but I pushed a piece of furniture against it, and then refused emphatically to open it. There were about fifty people waiting in the drawing-room, but I had that feeling of awful weariness which makes one ready to go to the most violent extremes for the sake of an hour’s repose. I wanted to lie down on the rug, cross my arms, throw my head back, and close my eyes. I did not want to talk any more, and I did not want to have to smile or look at any one. I threw myself down on the floor, and was deaf to the knocks on my door and to Jarrett’s supplications. I did not want to argue the matter, so I did not utter a word. I heard the murmur of grumbling voices, and Jarrett’s words tactfully persuading the visitors to stay. I heard the rustle of paper being pushed under the door, and Madame Guérard whispering to Jarrett, who was furious. “You don’t know her, Monsieur Jarrett,” I heard her say. “If she thought you were forcing the door open, against which she has pushed the furniture, she would jump out of the window!” Then I heard Félicie talking to a French lady who was insisting on seeing me. “It is quite impossible,” she was saying. “Madame would be quite hysterical. She needs an hour’s rest, and every one must wait!” For some little time I could hear a confused murmur which seemed to get farther away, and then I fell into a delicious sleep, laughing to myself as I went off, for my good temper returned as I pictured the angry, nonplussed expression on the faces of my visitors. I woke in an hour’s time, for I have the precious gift of being able to sleep ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, or an hour, just as I like, and I then wake up quite peacefully without a shake at the time I choose to rouse up. Nothing does me so much good as this rest to body and mind, decided upon and regulated merely by my will.