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I certainly owe to both of them this study of myself and the vision I have of myself. The day was destined to end in the strangest of fashions. Madame Guerard had gone back to her apartment upstairs, and I was lying back on a little cane arm-chair which was the most ornamental piece of furniture in my room.
It was through going to order some vests and socks for my men that I had made the acquaintance of Mere Tricottin, as she was called. At her request I had engaged her grandson, Victor Durieux, as an errand boy, and the poor old woman had been so grateful that I dared not go now to tell her of his death. Madame Guerard went for me to the Rue de Vaugirard, where the old woman lived.
He burst out laughing as he wrote down my name and the title, Deux Pigeons, which I gave him. I heard him still laughing under his heavy moustache as he continued his round. He then went back into the Conservatoire, and I began to get feverish with excitement, so much so that Madame Guerard was anxious about me, as my health unfortunately was very delicate.
I shall go and pack my trunk, and start at once with you!" "No, no, I cannot go," exclaimed Madame Guerard, nearly beside herself. "There is my husband to think of, and my children." Her little girl was scarcely two years old at that time. "Well, then, mon petit Dame, find me some one to go with me." "I do not know any one," she answered, crying in her excitement.
"Fourteen and a half," replied Madame Guerard. "No," I exclaimed, "I am nearly fifteen." The kind old man smiled. "In twenty years from now," he said, "you will insist less upon the exact figures," and, evidently thinking the visit had lasted long enough, he rose. "It appears," he said to Madame Guerard, "that this little girl's mother is very beautiful?" "Oh, very beautiful," she replied.
She was quite conquered, and soon began to help in my preparations, which certainly did not take me long. But I did not know how to get to Spain. "You go through Bordeaux," said Madame Guerard. "Oh no," exclaimed Caroline; "my brother-in-law is a skipper, and he often goes to Spain by Marseilles." I had saved nine hundred francs, and Madame Guerard lent me six hundred.
Madame Guerard adored the proud rebelliousness of my nature, my pretty face, and the slenderness of my figure; Mlle. de Brabender was touched by my delicate health. She endeavoured to comfort me when I was jealous at not being loved as much as my sister, but what she liked best about me was my voice.
I asked M. Camille Doucet, director of the Fine Arts Department, to be so good as to receive me, and, as my mother always refused to accompany me, Madame Guerard went with me. My little sister Regina begged me to take her, and very unwisely I consented. We had not been in the director's office more than five minutes before my sister, who was only six years old, began to climb on to the furniture.
M. Guerard came and shook hands with me. He was a man of nearly sixty years of age, and Madame Guerard was under thirty. He was melancholy, gentle, and timid: he had been awarded the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour, and he wore a long, shabby frock coat, used aristocratic gestures, and was private secretary to M. de la Tour Desmoulins, a prominent deputy at the time.
M. Guerard was a well of science, and I owe much to his kindness. My sister Jeanne whispered to me, "Sister's godfather said when he came in that you looked as ugly as possible." Jeanne always spoke of my godfather in this way. I pushed her away, and we sat down to table. All through the meal my one wish was to go back to the convent.
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