"Yes, dead!" coldly answers Antony. _Elle me résistait: je l'ai assassinée!_ And he flings his dagger at the husband's feet. The audience gave vent to such cries of terror, dismay and sorrow, that probably a third of the audience hardly heard these words, a necessary supplement to the piece, which, however, without them would be nothing but an ordinary intrigue of adultery, unravelled by a simple assassination. The effect, all the same, was tremendous. They called for the author with frantic cries. Bocage came forward and told them. Then they called for Antony and Adèle again, and both returned to take their share in such an ovation as they had never had, nor ever would have again. For they had both attained to the highest achievement in their art! I flew from my box to go to them, without noticing that the passages were blocked with spectators coming out of their seats. I had not taken four steps before I was recognised; then I had my turn, as the author of the play. A crowd of young persons of my own age (I was twenty-eight), pale, scared, breathless, rushed at me. They pulled me right and left and embraced me. I wore a green coat buttoned up from top to bottom; they tore the tails of it to shreds. I entered the green-room, as Lord Spencer entered his, in a round jacket; the rest of my coat had gone into a state of relics. They were stupefied behind the scenes; they had never seen a success taking such a form before, never before had applause gone so straight from the audience to the actors; and what an audience it was too! The fashionable world, the exquisites who take the best boxes at theatres, those who only applaud from habit, who, this time, made themselves hoarse with shouting so loudly, and had split their gloves with clapping! Crosnier was hidden. Bocage was as happy as a child. Dorval was mad! Oh, good and brave-hearted friends, who, in the midst of their own triumphs, seemed to enjoy my success more even than their own! who put their own talent on one side and loudly extolled the poet and the work! I shall never forget that night; Bocage has not forgotten it either. Only a week ago we were talking of it as though it had happened only yesterday; and I am certain, if such matters are remembered in the other world, Dorval remembers it too! Now, what became of us all after we had been congratulated? I know not. Just as there is around every luminous body a mist, so there was one over the rest of the evening and night, which my memory, after a lapse of twenty-two years, is unable to penetrate. In conclusion, one of the special features of the drama of _Antony_ was that it kept the spectators spell-bound to the final fall of the curtain. As the _morale_ of the work was contained in those six words, which Bocage pronounced with such perfect dignity, "_Elle me résistait: je l'ai assassinée!_" everybody remained to hear them, and would not leave until they had been spoken, with the following result.