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Bernhardt, Sarah, 1845-1923

"The Idol of Paris"


He thought, "That is his way of getting rid of me."
"I hope, my dear Director," continued the Duke, "that you will make us
rehearse hard to-morrow. If anything goes wrong we shall still have
the morning of the following day, for the fete does not begin until
half-past two."
Maurice rose, and in a comical tone announced, "Ladies, gentlemen, and
artists, I beg you to be prompt for a rehearsal of the tableaux
vivants to-morrow at ten o'clock. Any artist who is late, will pay a
fine of a hundred francs, to the poor of the Duchess." And as they
laughingly protested, "There is a quarter of an hour's grace accorded
as in the theatres, but not one instant more. My stage-manager is
empowered to collect the fines."
They followed the action of the Duchess and rose from their seats. The
Duke went over to Maurice.
"I would like to talk over some of the details with you. They must
interest us, but they mean nothing to the others. A cigarette?"
They strolled to the end of the terrace. A pretty Chinese umbrella
sheltered a delightful nook. The Duke and Maurice dropped into easy
chairs.
"Will you give me your word that what I am going to say to you will be
for you alone; that you will not repeat it?"
The young man refused, "How can I give my word without even knowing
the subject of your confidences?"
"It concerns your cousin."
"Then it concerns Count Styvens."
"Indirectly, yes."
Maurice got up.


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