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Dubois was won over to the unholy alliance; and the Due's maîtresse en titre was bribed, not only to withdraw all opposition to her proposed rival, but to arrange a meeting between the Regent and the victim. Success seemed to be assured. Mademoiselle Aissé was to exchange slavery to her late owner for an equally odious place in the harem of the ruler of France.
Is this a time to put on Aisse? You told me it was a thing of distinction, delicate like all that HE did, and I hear that the public of the theatres is more THICKHEADED than ever. You would do well to see two or three plays, no matter which, in order to appreciate the literary condition of the Parisian. The provinces will contribute less than in the past.
Not so would say the gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her chevalier who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aïssé, the devout, the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
Your articles in le Temps, which have had a great success, are widely read and who knows? You would perhaps do France a great service? Aisse keeps me very busy, or rather provokes me. I have not seen Chilly, I have had to do with Duquesnel. They are depriving me definitely of the senior Berton and proposing his son. He is very nice, but he is not at all the type conceived by the author.
The Theatre Francais perhaps would ask nothing better than to take Aisse! I am very perplexed, and it is going to be necessary for me to decide. As for waiting till a literary wind arises, as it will never arise in my lifetime, it is better to risk the thing at once. These theatrical affairs disturb me greatly, for I was in great form.
With a bad mob at their heels, these fine men of Rouen would not have dared what they have dared! I have the Chansons, tomorrow I shall read your preface, from beginning to end. I embrace you. You will receive very soon: Dernieres Chansons, Aisse and my Lettre au Conseil municipal de Rouen, which is to appear tomorrow in le Temps before appearing as a pamphlet.
You understand, I do not want you to inconvenience yourself in anything. You think that I am as sweet as a lamb! Undeceive yourself, and act as if Aisse had never existed; and above all no sensitiveness? That would offend me.
Although you are a mandarin, I do not think that you are like a Chinaman at all, and I love you with a full heart. I am working like a convict. G. Sand Dear master, I received your article yesterday, and I should answer it at length if I were not in the midst of preparations for my departure for Paris. I am going to try to finish up with Aisse.
On the first night of Louis Bouilhet's piece, Mademoiselle Aisse, at the Odeon, Flaubert, who was an intimate friend of the author, introduced an attache of the British Embassy to me. "Oh, I have known you for some time, Mademoiselle," he said; "you are the little stick with the sponge on the top." This caricature of me had just appeared, and had been the delight of idle folks.
Such was Ayesha, or Aissé, the Circassian maid, when at last her "owner" returned to Paris to fall under the spell of her radiant beauty and to claim her as his chattel, bought with good gold and trained at his cost to adorn his harem. In vain did Aissé weep and plead to be spared a fate from which every fibre of her being shrank in horror. Her "master" was inexorable.
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