charmante Farrar

souvenir d'une grande amitie

Sarah Bernhardt,

1915]

But I had my New England "thinking-cap" firmly set on my shoulders. A
little of this charming frivolity was enough, and one fine day I
disappeared--back to the simple life of study and quiet with the great
Lehmann; I shed the iridescence of my butterfly wings and became, for
the nonce, a hard-working grub!

My stay in Paris was memorable to me as well by reason of the meeting
with Sarah Bernhardt.

My admiration for this wonderful woman had ever been of the most fervent
heroine worship, and when Madame Grau said: "Sarah wants to know you;
when will you lunch with her?" I set the following day, for fear she
might change her mind and I might thereby lose this privilege.

I see her still, standing slim and white in her long curling draperies
at the entrance to her home, her keen eyes appraising me, her voice
raised in cordial greeting. How we chattered! What things she had to
say, and with what joy I listened!

She knew all about "Juliet"--much to my surprise--even to details, such
as dress, innovations in _mise-en-scene_, and how I tried to infuse the
modern dramatic spirit into the measures of the opera. Then the
conversation wandered to personalities; among the most cherished, our
mutual great-hearted friend Coquelin, now, alas! gone to his last sleep
these many years; books, and her obstreperous dogs, most conspicuous by
their noisy presence. I was to enjoy her friendship from that day on. As
I write, a recent photograph stands before me, bearing a tender
inscription. A smile plays upon her face, despite her recent tragic
affliction. She is in truth an element, ageless, fearless, dauntless!

It was good to be back for a short season in the autumn in Berlin,
previous to my second departure for New York. The demonstration of the
loyal Berliners at my return was beautiful, despite successes elsewhere.
I was always to them "_unsere Farrar_."

CHAPTER XIII

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

My second Metropolitan season opened pleasantly with a neat little
success in the comparatively small role of Marguerite in "Mefistofele,"
which was produced for the benefit of Chaliapine, the great Russian
basso. Unfortunately, owing to his dissatisfaction and disappointment at
musical matters in general, nothing would induce him to return to
America, and we thereby lost an artist unique in all he attempted and
unparalleled in some of his typical Russian c