shoulders: "To go to the
opera is to go to the devil. But what matters it? It is my destiny."
Poor Mme. Arnould scolded, shuddered, and prayed, and ended it, as she
thought, by shutting the girl up in a convent. But Louis XV. got wind
of this threatened checkmate, and a royal mandate took her out of the
convent walls which had threatened to immure her for life. Anne was
placed with Clairon, the great tragedienne, to learn acting, and with
Mlle. Fel to learn singing. As a consequence, while she had some
rivals in the beauty of her voice, her acting surpassed anything on the
operatic stage of that era.

II.

When Anne Arnould made her first appearance, she assumed the name of
Sophie on account of the softer sound of its syllables. Her _debut_,
September 15, 1757, was one of most brilliant success, and in a
night Paris was at her feet. Her genius, her beauty, her voice, her
magnificent eyes, her incomparable grace and fascinating witchery of
manner, were the talk of the city; and the opera was besieged every
night she sang. Freron, in speaking of the waiting crowds, said, "I
doubt if they would take such trouble to get into paradise." The young
and lovely _debutante_ accepted the homage of the time, which then as
now expressed itself in bouquets, letters, and jewels, without number,
with as much nonchalance as if she had been a stage goddess of twenty
years' standing.

Hosts of admirers fluttered around this new and brilliant light. Mme.
Arnould fretted and scolded, and watched her precious charge as well
as she could; for when the opera received a singer, neither father nor
mother could longer claim her. One of the besieging _roues_ said that
Sophie walked on roses. "Yes," was the mother's keen retort, "but see to
it that you do not plant thorns amid the roses." Sophie's fascinations
were the theme of universal talk among the gay and licentious idlers of
the court, and heavy bets were made as to who should be the victor in
his suit. Among the most distinguished of the court rufflers of the
period was the Comte de Lauraguais, noted for his personal beauty,
wit, and daring, and for having written some very bad plays, which were
instantly damned by the audience. He had run through a great fortune,
and the good-humored gayety with which he won money from his friends was
only equaled by the nonchalance with which he had squandered his own.
He was a member of the Academy of Sciences, and enjoyed lounging in
fashionable sa