Morning journal and courier., 1891-05-05

part of Countess Olga, and who came into Bernhardt's dressing room to get an opin- ion about her dress and her silver-gray sa- tin trimmed with black crepe and lace, Mime. Sara said: "Ahl that is not right it is too triste, to sad. It is not artistic gray and white it should be- Get that black all taken off and replace it with white edges" To young man in blonde wig, who was anxious about his eyebrows, the great actress gave many directions She made him stand before the mirror at her side and carefully pointed out to him the manner in which he was to arrange those brows and very speaking eyes of his. He listened like child, and recognized at once that madame's artistic advice was just what he wanted to make him an ideal lover.
 All this time the big gentle Danish hound lay under Bernhardt's dressing table, while the silky Skyes slept in far corner. Madame takes these dogs with her every where she goes and has a special valet to take charge of them. They are beauties, and adore Sara. When she was posing to- day for an artist, the dogs stared up into her face an immediately posed too.
 In the third act of Fedora Mime. Bern hardt wears a gorgeous gown of pale blue satin, embroidered all over with precious 6eohSS, eoAduoASCy HoniAo anu aiiiCta1 oto. Over this is worn a redingote of delicate fawn- colored plush, with a long train, and a ceinture of amethysts and diamonds. Standing erect before the glass Bernhardt raises her arms swiftly. A few pins are taken out by the femme de chsmbre, and the whole shimmering mass of silk and sa- tin and jewels falls from the delicately vol uptuous form, and Madame steps out in her fine silk stockings and tight pink silk undergarment, and surveys herself care fully in the mirror. Presently "drapery' of pale green Crepe de chine, covered with priceless point lace, is thrown over the 1.-the figure, few pins are adjusted, and when the call comes Bernhardt is always the first to be ready wrapped up in q CO quettish little lace shawl.
 In her dressing room you are talking to a bright, natural woman, who looks at her self frequently in the glass and seems to admire her exquisite eyes and red lips as she smiles and mods to her mirrored image On the stage all this is forgotten. In the last terrible scene in ''Fedora." where the unfortunate woman poisons herself and dies in her lover's arms, begging forgive ness in that most pathetic and marvellous voice, it is genius that reigns supreme. It is Fedora, not Bernhardt, whom we see Never, never can that death scene be for SplOcll- ula"l IlNlu WILL T. the eyes coal black now and blazing with fear, love, divine passion, the hands crooked and thrust into the carefully arranged hair. until the curls are All disarrangei, and in stead of nestling piquantly round the face are pushed with nervous hands up above the broad brow, to the utter disregard of dress ornaments or any of the femine tIi- fes but a moment before so carefully ad- justed. It is sublime! It is genius It is Bernhardt at her greatest and best!
 When she returned to her dressing room, pale, her eyes burning, her mouth yet quiYering with the passionate words of love and grief she had spoken to her lover, I was almost afraid to speak. She panted as she sank into chair, while outside the audi ence thundered and roared piaudit upon plsudit, sang the" "Marseillaise, land seemed as if they would tear down the house to get at the woman who had so convinced them with the magnetism of voice and eye and