She wrote to a friend:—
I am very ill; I am on the eve of departure—not for another world, but for a warmer climate. My nervous system, as well as my bodily health, must be built up, if it is not too late. I feel a great darkness and void in my head and in my intelligence. All is suddenly extinguished, and Rachel has ceased to exist! Ah, poor Rachel! that Rachel of whom I was so proud—too proud, perhaps; nothing remains of her to-day! This letter is to bid you farewell, my friend, that farewell which the distance that separates us forbids us to say personally to one another.
What events have passed since our last meeting, and what a cruel voyage! I cannot speak of it without weeping. But how could I foresee its fatal ending? I was so certain of success. And this terrible disease—this shirt of Nessus that I cannot tear off! I trusted to my luck and my strength, and, without any precautions, undertook that terrible expedition to New York. Shall I return now—will God have pity on me, for the sake of my children, my friends, or will He take me to Himself?
Farewell, my friend! This letter will most likely be the last you will ever receive from me. You, who knew Rachel so brilliant, who saw her in her luxury and her splendour, who so often applauded her in her triumphs—you would find a difficulty in recognising her now in the skeleton that she drags about with her unceasingly.
Then comes the last letter written before her departure. It is addressed to Augustine Brohan, whom, we may imagine, touched by a temporary penitence for the many hard things she had said about Rachel during the days of comradeship at the Théâtre Français, had written a letter expressing sympathy with her rival in her present distress:—"Patience and resignation have become my motto. I am most grateful, dear Mademoiselle Brohan, for your amiable interest; but I am afraid God alone can help me now! I am leaving directly for the South. I hope the warmth and sunshine will calm my suffering."
Shortly after, she left for Le Cannet, where A. L. Sardou, the father of the famous dramatist, had offered her his villa The morning of her departure she ex-
