Although it was knocked about a good deal by the press, the work ran for more than forty performances. Some were glad of the chance to seek a quarrel with our director who had played his last card and had arrived at the last month of his privilege. It was useless trouble on their part. Gailhard was shortly afterwards called upon to resume the managerial scepter of our great lyric stage. I found him there associated with E. Bertrand when _Thaïs_, of which I shall speak later, was put on. Apropos of this, some verses of the ever witty Ernest Reyer come to mind. Here they are: _Le Mage_ est loin, _Werther_ est proche, Et déjà _Thaïs_ est sous roche; Admirable fécondite ... Moi, voilà dix ans que je pioche Sur _Le Capuchin enchanté_. You may be astonished at never having seen this work of Reyer's played. Here is the theme as he told it, with the most amusing seriousness, at one of our monthly dinners of the Institute, at the excellent Champeaux restaurant, Place de Bourse. First and Only Act! The scene represents a public square; on the left the sign of a famous tavern. Enter from the right a Capuchin. He stares at the tavern door. He hesitates; then, finally, he decides to cross the threshold and closes the door. Music in the orchestra--if desired. Suddenly, the Capuchin comes out again--enchanted, assuredly enchanted by the cooking! Thus the title of the work is explained; it has nothing to do with fairies enchanting a poor monk! CHAPTER XIX A NEW LIFE The year 1891 was marked by an event which had a profound effect on my life. In the month of May of that year the publishing house of Hartmann went out of business. How did it happen? What brought about this catastrophe? I asked myself these questions but could get no answer. It had seemed to me that all was going as well as could be expected with my publisher. I was utterly stupefied at hearing that all the works published by the house of Hartmann were to be put up at auction; that they would have to face the ordeal of a public sale. For me this was a most disturbing uncertainty. I had a friend who had a vault, and I entrusted to him the orchestral score and piano score of _Werther_ and the orchestral score of _Amadis_. He put these valueless papers beside his valuables. The scores were in manuscript. I have already written of the fortunes of _Werther_, and perhaps I shall of _Amadis_, the text of which was by our great friend Jules Claretie of the French Academy. As may be imagined, my anxiety was very great. I expected to see my labor of many years scattered among all the publishers. Where would _Manon_ go? Where would _Hérodiade_ bring up? Who would get _Marie Magdeleine_? Who would have my _Suites d'Orchestra_? All this disturbed my muddled brain and made me anxious. Hartmann had always shown me so much friendliness and sensitiveness in my interests, and he was, I am sure, as sorrowful as I was about this painful situation.