e benefits, as well as those
two clever English women, Rose Coghlan and Jeffreys Lewis. Later on, when
I was under Mr. Palmer's management, I had an experience at a benefit
that I am not likely to forget. I had consented to do the fourth act of
"Camille" (the ball-room scene), and when I swept through the crowd of
"guests," every word was wiped clean out of my memory, for as they faced
me I recognized in the supposed supers and extras all the various
stars--the leading ladies and gentlemen who had had a place on the
lengthy programme. Working hard, giving of their best, they had all
laughingly joined in this gracious whim of playing supernumeraries in
Dumas's ball-scene. And I remember that Mademoiselle Aimee was
particularly determined to be recognized as she walked and strolled up
and down. Once I whispered imploringly to her: "Turn your back, Madame!"
but she laboriously answered: "Non! I haiv' not of ze shame to be supe
for you, Mademoiselle!" It was a charming compliment, but more than a bit
overwhelming to its recipient.

Well, Mr. Daly having originated, as I believe, these splendid and
lengthy benefit performances, was, as a result, able to place a goodly
sum of money at the service of the Asylum authorities, and naturally he
received warm thanks from his Church.

Then, when "Madeline Morel" came along, with the great cathedral scene,
we all stood aghast at what I was called upon to say and do. Everyone was
on the stage, and nearly everyone whispered: "Sacrilege!" I stopped
stock-still, in sheer fright. Mr. Daly pulled nervously at the lapel of
his coat for a moment, and then said, sharply, "Go on!" I obeyed, but
right behind me someone said: "And he calls himself a Catholic!"

It was a horrid bit, in an otherwise beautiful and impressive act. As a
"sister" who had served the "novitiate," I had just taken the life vows
and had been invested with the black veil. Then the wedding procession
and the Church procession, coming from opposite sides and crossing before
the altar, like a great "X," brought the bridegroom and the black nun
face to face, in dreadful recognition, and in the following scene I had
to drag from my head the veil and swathing white linen--had to tear from
my breast the cross, and, trampling it under foot, stretch my arms to
Heaven and, with upraised face, cry: "I call down upon my guilty soul
the thunders of a curse, that none may hear and live!" and then fall
headlong, as though my challenge