My Double Life: The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt Part 10

"Well, then, what will you recite, Mademoiselle?" asked Leautaud, with the most _fouchtre_ accent possible.

"I will recite a fable," I replied.

He burst out laughing as he wrote down my name and the t.i.tle, _Deux Pigeons_, which I gave him. I heard him still laughing under his heavy moustache as he continued his round. He then went back into the Conservatoire, and I began to get feverish with excitement, so much so that Madame Guerard was anxious about me, as my health unfortunately was very delicate. She made me sit down, and then she put a few drops of eau-de-Cologne behind my ears.

"There, that will teach you to wink like that!" were the words I suddenly heard, and a girl with the prettiest face imaginable had her ears boxed soundly. Nathalie Mauvoy's mother was correcting her daughter. I sprang up, trembling with fright and indignation; I was as angry as a young turkey-c.o.c.k. I wanted to go and box the horrible woman's ears in return, and then to kiss the pretty girl who had been insulted in this way, but I was held back firmly by my two guardians.

Dica Pet.i.t now returned, and this caused a diversion in the waiting-room. She was radiant and quite satisfied with herself. Oh, very well satisfied indeed! Her father held out a little flask to her in which was some kind of cordial, and I should have liked some of it too, for my mouth was dry and burning. Her mother then put a little woollen square over her chest before fastening her coat for her, and then all three of them went away. Several other girls and young men were called before my turn came.

Finally the call of my name made me jump as a sardine does when pursued by a big fish. I tossed my head to shake my hair back, and _mon pet.i.t Dame_ stroked my badly dressed silk. Mlle. de Brabender reminded me about the _o_ and the _a_, the _r_, the _p_, and the _t_, and I then went alone into the hall.

I had never been alone an hour in my life. As a little child I was always clinging to the skirts of my nurse; at the convent I was always with one of my friends or one of the sisters; at home either with Mlle.

de Brabender or Madame Guerard, or if they were not there in the kitchen with Marguerite. And now there I was alone in that strange-looking room, with a platform at the end, a large table in the middle, and, seated round this table, men who either grumbled, growled, or jeered. There was only one woman present, and she had a loud voice. She was holding an eyegla.s.s, and as I entered she dropped it and looked at me through her opera-gla.s.s. I felt every one's gaze on my back as I climbed up the few steps on to the platform. Leautaud bent forward and whispered, "Make your bow and commence, and then stop when the chairman rings." I looked at the chairman, and saw that it was M. Auber. I had forgotten that he was director of the Conservatoire, just as I had forgotten everything else. I at once made my bow and began:

_Deux pigeons s'aimaient d'amour tendre, L'un d'eux s'ennuyant...._

A low, grumbling sound was heard, and then a "ventriloquist" muttered, "It isn't an elocution cla.s.s here. What an idea to come here reciting fables!"

It was Beauvallet, the deafening tragedian of the Comedie Francaise. I stopped short, my heart beating wildly.

"Go on, my child," said a man with silvery hair. This was Provost.

"Yes, it won't be as long as a scene from a play," exclaimed Augustine Brohan, the one woman present.

I began again:

_Deux pigeons s'aimaient d'amour tendre, L'un d'eux s'ennuyant au logis Fut a.s.sez...._

"Louder, my child, louder," said a little man with curly white hair, in a kindly tone. This was Samson.

I stopped again, confused and frightened, seized suddenly with such a foolish fit of nervousness that I could have shouted or howled. Samson saw this, and said to me, "Come, come; we are not ogres!" He had just been talking in a low voice with Auber.

"Come now, begin again," he said, "and speak up."

"Ah no," put in Augustine Brohan, "if she is to begin again it will be longer than a scene!" This speech made all the table laugh, and that gave me time to recover myself. I thought all these people unkind to laugh like this at the expense of a poor little trembling creature who had been delivered over to them, bound hand and foot.

I felt, without exactly defining it, a slight contempt for these pitiless judges. Since then I have very often thought of that trial of mine, and I have come to the conclusion that individuals who are kind, intelligent, and compa.s.sionate become less estimable when they are together. The feeling of personal irresponsibility arouses their evil instincts, and the fear of ridicule chases away their good ones.

When I had recovered my will power I began my fable again, determined not to mind what happened. My voice was more liquid on account of the emotion, and the desire to make myself heard caused it to be more resonant.

There was silence, and before I had finished my fable the little bell rang. I bowed and came down the few steps from the platform, thoroughly exhausted. M. Auber stopped me as I was pa.s.sing by the table.

"Well, little girl," he said, "that was very good indeed. M. Provost and M. Beauvallet both want you in their cla.s.s."

I recoiled slightly when he told me which was M. Beauvallet, for he was the "ventriloquist" who had given me such a fright.

"Well, which of these two gentlemen should you prefer?" he asked.

I did not utter a word, but pointed to M. Provost.

"That's all right. Get your handkerchief out, my poor Beauvallet, and I shall entrust this child to you, my dear Provost."

I understood, and, wild with joy, I exclaimed, "Then I have pa.s.sed?"

"Yes, you have pa.s.sed; and there is only one thing I regret, and that is that such a pretty voice should not be for music."

I did not hear anything else, for I was beside myself with joy. I did not stay to thank any one, but bounded to the door.

"_Mon pet.i.t Dame_! Mademoiselle, I have pa.s.sed!" I exclaimed, and when they shook hands and asked me no end of questions I could only reply, "Oh, it's quite true. I have pa.s.sed, I have pa.s.sed!"

I was surrounded and questioned.

"How do you know that you have pa.s.sed? No one knows beforehand."

"Yes, yes; I know, though. Monsieur Auber told me. I am to go into Monsieur Provost's cla.s.s. Monsieur Beauvallet wanted me, but his voice is too loud for me!"

A disagreeable girl exclaimed, "Can't you stop that? And so they all want you!" A pretty girl, who was too dark, though, for my taste, came nearer and asked me gently what I had recited.

"The fable of the 'Two Pigeons," I replied.

She was surprised, and so was every one; while, as for me, I was wildly delighted to surprise them all. I tossed my hat on my head, shook my frock out, and, dragging my two friends along, ran away dancing. They wanted to take me to the confectioner's to have something, but I refused. We got into a cab, and I should have liked to push that cab along myself. I fancied I saw the words, "I have pa.s.sed," written up over all the shops.

When, on account of the crowded streets, the cab had to stop, it seemed to me that the people stared at me, and I caught myself tossing my head, as though telling them all that it was quite true I had pa.s.sed my examination. I never thought any more about the convent, and only experienced a feeling of pride at having succeeded in my first venturesome enterprise. Venturesome, but the success had only depended on me. It seemed to me as though the cabman would never arrive at 265 Rue St. Honore. I kept putting my head out of the window, and saying, "Faster, cabby, faster, please!"

At last we reached the house, and I sprang out of the cab and hurried along to tell the good news to my mother. On the way I was stopped by the daughter of the hall-porter. She was a corset-maker, and worked in a little room on the top floor of the house which was opposite our dining-room, where I used to do my lessons with my governess, so that I could not help seeing her ruddy, wide-awake face constantly. I had never spoken to her, but I knew who she was.

"Well, Mademoiselle Sarah, are you satisfied?" she called out.

"Oh yes, I have pa.s.sed," I answered, and I could not resist stopping a minute in order to enjoy the astonishment of the hall-porter family. I then hurried on, but on reaching the courtyard came to a dead stand, anger and grief taking possession of me, for there I beheld my _pet.i.t dame_, her two hands forming a trumpet, her head thrown back, shouting to my mother, who was leaning out of the window, "Yes, yes; she has pa.s.sed!"

I gave her a thump with my clenched hand and began to cry with rage, for I had prepared a little story for my mother, ending up with the joyful surprise. I had intended putting on a very sad look on arriving at the door, and pretending to be broken-hearted and ashamed. I felt sure she would say, "Oh, I am not surprised, my poor child, you are so foolis.h.!.+"

and then I should have thrown my arms round her neck and said, "It isn't true, it isn't true; I have pa.s.sed!" I had pictured to myself her face brightening up, and then old Marguerite and my G.o.dfather laughing heartily and my sisters dancing with joy, and here was Madame Guerard sounding her trumpet and spoiling all the effects that I had prepared so well.

I must say that the kind woman continued as long as she lived, that is the greater part of my life, to spoil all my effects. It was all in vain that I made scenes; she could not help herself. Whenever I related an adventure and wanted it to be very effective, she would invariably burst into fits of laughter before the end of it. If I told a story with a very lamentable ending, which was to be a surprise, she would sigh, roll her eyes, and murmur, "Oh dear, oh dear!" so that I always missed the effect I was counting on. All this used to exasperate me to such a degree that before beginning a story or a game I used to ask her to go out of the room, and she would get up and go, laughing at the idea of the blunder she would make if there.

Abusing Guerard, I went upstairs to my mother, whom I found at the open door. She kissed me affectionately, and on seeing my sulky face asked if I was not satisfied.

"Yes," I replied; "but I am furious with Guerard. Be nice, mamma, and pretend you don't know. Shut the door, and I will ring."

She did this, and I rang the bell. Marguerite opened the door, and my mother came and pretended to be astonished. My sisters, too, arrived, and my G.o.dfather and my aunt. When I kissed my mother, exclaiming, "I have pa.s.sed!" every one shouted with joy, and I was gay again. I had made my effect, anyhow. It was "the career" taking possession of me unawares. My sister Regina, whom the sisters would not have in the convent, and so had sent home, began to dance a jig. She had learnt this in the country when she had been put out to nurse, and upon every occasion she danced it, finis.h.i.+ng always with this couplet:

_Mon p't.i.t ventr' ejouis toi Tout ce ze gagn' est pou' toi...._

Nothing could be more comic than this chubby child, with her serious air. Regina never laughed, and only a suspicion of a smile ever played over her thin lips and her mouth, which was too small. Nothing could be more comic than to see her, looking grave and rough, dancing the jig.

She was funnier than ever that day, as she was excited by the general joy. She was four years old, and nothing ever embarra.s.sed her. She was both timid and bold. She detested society and people generally, and when she was made to go into the dining-room she embarra.s.sed people by her crude remarks, which were most odd, by her rough answers, and her kicks and blows. She was a terrible child, with silvery hair, dark complexion, blue eyes, too large for her face, and thick lashes which made a shadow on her cheeks when she lowered the lids and joined her eyebrows when her eyes were open. She would be four or five hours sometimes without uttering a word, without answering any question she was asked, and then she would jump up from her little chair, begin to sing as loud as she could, and dance the jig. On this day she was in a good temper, for she kissed me affectionately and opened her thin lips to smile. My sister Jeanne kissed me and made me tell her about my examination. My G.o.dfather gave me a hundred francs, and Meydieu, who had just arrived to find out the result, promised to take me the next day to Barbedienne's to choose a clock for my room, as that was one of my dreams.