ing an engagement at the Théâtre Français. For years the beautiful actress kept the Parisian public at her feet, counting among her adorers Voltaire and Maurice de Saxe. The love of the latter, which was fully reciprocated, cost the unfortunate young actress, it is said, her life. One of the beauties of the day, the Duchess de Bouillon, jealous of Maurice's love, as the story goes, sent Adrienne a poisoned bouquet. Death came to her at the moment that happiness seemed within her grasp, for Maurice had that day promised to make her his wife. "Vous qui m'aimez tant, sauvez moi, secourez moi . . . je ne veux pas mourir! À present je ne veux pas mourir." It was of no avail, however; young, beautiful, and beloved, Adrienne was torn from life, and from those who loved her. Voltaire celebrated her memory in one of the finest elegies ever written, and Maurice de Saxe died with her talisman on his heart at Fontenoy. Out of such elements one of the finest modern dramas has been evolved, and, after the first hesitation, Rachel appreciated the pathos and interest of the part, and identified herself with it as no actress since has been able to do. "What! you are not dead?" said a friend to her one evening, as she came off the stage laden with crowns and flowers. "You have stolen those flowers from your own tomb." His words bore a strange significance; for Rachel acted Adrienne when struck to death at Charleston, the last time she ever appeared on any stage.
In the spring of 1849, in the midst of political convulsions and popular excitement, Rachel first appeared in Le Moineau de Lesbie, a dramatic idyl in one act. Reputations are sometimes made by the merest accident. Armand Barthet is an example of this. No one in France read the Moineau de Lesbie, but everyone
