the absolute truth of which I can vouch, is
a proof of what I say. One day the celebrated Baron Taylor, who had been
the director of the Comedie-Francaise, came to solicit her aid for a
charity concert; I am not certain of the object, but believe it was in
aid of the Christians in Persia or China. The tickets were to be a
hundred francs each. Sontag, Alboni, Rosine Stoltz, Mario, Lablache,
Vieuxtemps, and I do not know how many more celebrated artists had
promised their services.

It was in 1850 when M. Arsene Houssaye was her director, and I am
particular about giving the year, because Rachel refused on the pretext
that her director would never give her leave to appear on any other
stage. Now, it so happened that no woman ever had a more devoted friend
and chivalrous champion than Rachel had in Arsene Houssaye. His
friendship for her was simply idolatry, and I verily believe that if she
had asked him to stand on his head to please her, he would have done so,
at the risk of making himself supremely ridiculous--he who feared
ridicule above everything, who was one of the most sensible men of his
time, who was and is the incarnation of good-nature, to whom no one in
distress or difficulties ever appealed in vain.

Baron Taylor argued all this, but Rachel remained inflexible. "I am very
sorry," he said at last, rising to go, "because I am positive that your
name on the bill would have made a difference of several thousand francs
in the receipts."

"Oh, if you only want my name," was the answer, "you may have it; you
can make an apology at the eleventh hour for my absence on the score of
sudden indisposition--the public at charity concerts are used to that
sort of thing; besides, you will have so many celebrities that it will
make very little difference. By-the-by"--as he was at the door--"I think
my name is worth ten or twenty tickets." Taylor knew Rachel too well to
be in the least surprised at the demand, and left ten tickets on the
mantelpiece.

That same afternoon he met Count Walewski, and as a matter of course
asked him to take some tickets.

"Very sorry, cher baron, but I have got ten already. You see, poor
Rachel did not know very well how to get rid of the two hundred you
burdened her with as a lady patroness; so she wanted me to have twenty,
but I settled the matter with ten. As it is, it cost me a thousand
francs."

Taylor did not say another word--he probably could not; he was struck
dumb with astonishme