St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1892-01-17

i$ 5:$;: 81 s. IS; 3: !: !:
uf member the little scene
where she drags herself from her
death bed to the window and listens to
the noise of the carnival below, and
recognizes the gay voices of old friends
who have forgotten her? 1t is pa
thetlc bit, you know, and they were
crying round me in the theater.
1.-The pretty little girl In box near
by had quite spoiled her complexion,
and the old gentleman with her was
wiping his glasses in most suspicious
| way.
Il smiled and couldn't help it. No, it
was not cold-heartedness- was simply
a memory. The audience forgot Bern
hardt and saw only Camille in that
| moment. forgot Camille and saw only
| Bernhardt-the woman, not the actress.
| The stage and the present had vanished.
| We were together-she and l. her
! special car, far out on Western rail-
| road, and, with toasting fork in one
hand and piece of bread in the other,
| Sarah was giving me her idea of what
| that scene should be.
Interesting? OF course it's interest
ing! Let me tell you about it. 70 tell
the truth, Pm full of it. The whole
thing came back to me SO vividly dur
ing that little scene, although it occurred
several years ago.
Sarah always lives while on the road
in her special car. She despises what
she calls 'zose Western hostels.' She
takes her ease in her own inn She has
her chef and her maid and her piano
and her favorite novels. and she has a
great cosy hollow of a chair like this,
into which she sinks and dreams and
lets the world go by.
..'Stalwart menials guard this car. and
valiant actors hedge her round. You
might as we'll attempt to get into heaven
on a pass from Bob IngersoIl, as to
reach Sarah with letter of introduce
ton from the president himself.
"How | got in is another story. But
there l was. one wild, stormy night
after the performance, and there was
Sarah poaching eggs over little stove
for herself and me, making toast. and
chatting necessarily in the most conf
dental fashion.
Sarah dotes on poached eggs, and
labOrs under the hallucination that no
one can poach them but herself. This
delnsion was ut that time carefully fos-
tered by the chef, who. as a gallant
Frenchman, wanted his evenings to
himself. Sarah had put on a soft CASH
mere wrapper, pair of Turkish Slip
pers and her most winning smile. She
| seemed to look OH the episode as a
schoolgirl frolic and entered into it with
glad abandon. Perhaps. too. my whole
souled enjoyment was contagious. |
sat on small table swinging my feet
while she cut two slices from a loaf of
bread and produced plates, a couple of
silver forks and bottle of wine.
e. HIhen | did the tOaStipp and cha a
tended to the. eggs. incidentally. we
discussed religion, art. philosophy and
the wonders OF heaven and earth. My
French is rather weak. and Sarah'S
English was not extensive at that time,
but we got on fatnousiy, filling in blanks
with expressive smiles and gestures.
Sarah's hands alone say more than an-
other woman'si tongue, you know, and
one shrug Of her shoulders
'if''She was talking about Camille when
she undertook to watch the toast while
cut another slice of bread. In the
midst of her eloQuence horrible smell
filled the car. That toast was burning!
Sarah snatcbed the fork away and said
we'll, no, | won't tell you what she
said on that occasion, but the memory
or 1t was one of the things that made
me smile tie other night.
Another slice was prepared. Each
of us took piece of toast and put an
egg Wnere 1t would do the most good.
Then, plates in hand and the bottle and
glasses standing within easy reach, we
sat down ON a broad divan, ate and
talked.
II wish l could give you some idea of
that W0man'S faScInation-and you must
remember that it's not easy to be fas-
cihattng while one is eating poached
egg. She may have been acting
all the time, quien sabe? But if
she was. it was the most perfect acting
ever saw. 1t seemed to me that was
seeing the real woman at last, as l had
always wanted to see her. 1t seemed
that she had lowered the mask and let
me look upon her as she WaS-and the
view was good.
'She talked about France and some
OF her early struggles. She spoke of
her son and how She nursed him, and
her eyes filled with tears. She laughed
like child over stage "reminiscences,
and then she spoke of some OF the things
WOman-all wOmen-muSt endure in
climbing upward.
Il know, whatever she was the rest
of the evening, that l saw the real
Sarah then, for just an instant. One of
the things she said was this, and Pm
sure she wouldn't mind my repeating
it, although was not there to write her
up.
"'If you have FRIEND she said,
who wants to go on the stage, tell her
no. Tell her all the delight and all the
triumph she might have, though
1t reached over years, would
not compensate for certain moments
of humiliation and misery she would
have to suffer. Tell her that, and tell
her again and again. and keep telling
her. And then she added lightly: But,
after all, why tell her? 1t would do no
good
when it occurred to me that had
not been invited to stay all night Sarah
walked with me to the window. 1t had
almost stopped showing, and the moon
was out. AS far as one could see there
was dazzling wilderness. We looked at
it together, Sarah Leaning her forehead
against the window pane.
II Your country is grand-it is great
she said. finally: Il have not often seen
more beauty than this. | like the snow,
for under 'she added, enigmatically,
is so much warmth
"Then l went away, and the tragedi-
enne, presume, removed the remains
of the toast and pOached eggs and went
to bed.
II did not see her again until the
other night"
a..''Did you renew the old acquaint-
ance?" asked the busy woman.
Yes" replied the girl who knows
everybody, 81 went behind the scenes
with several noted Philadelphia lights,
and was lost sight of in the glare"