"It was his turn to have a lesson at billiards.
"Rachel gave him points, and gained a hnndred-sous piece. She laughed like a child, and kissed the effigy of Napoleon, the First Consul, that was on it, saying, 'I will have a brooch made of it to act Phèdre. On that occasion, dear Saint Victor, I will read your article.'
"With her usual capricionsness in conversation, she reverted to the days she had sung to a guitar in the streets of Paris. 'I will show you,' she said, 'how, by the tour de papillon, I amused the crowd.'
"She pretended to play the guitar, and gave us a Place Royale representation. Nothing more fantastic could be imagined. She began to sing; in the middle of her song she stopped, crying out, 'See, a butterfly!' and she ran after an imaginary butterfly; she raised herself on her toes; she pirouetted like a ballet-girl; she stretched out her hand, and at last caught the butterfly.
"'Ah,' she sighed, 'there it is. What a pretty dress butterflies' wings would make.'
"'Where is the butterfly?' asked Saint Victor.
"Rachel burst out laughing, and said, 'It has flown away.' And then, throwing herself into a chair, she added, 'Alas! life slips away running after butterflies—love, happiness, glory; but who catches them?'"
Towards the end of the summer of 1856, the disease had made such progress that the doctors peremptorily ordered Rachel to Egypt. Before leaving, she was obliged to come to terms with the Comédie Française, of which she was still a member. Her "leave" was understood to end on the 1st September. She wrote, therefore, to Achille Fould, the Minister, to obtain a
