part and prevent myself falling down the mountain, while at the same time I tried to make my prisoner understand by my caresses that he had nothing to fear from me, and that somewhat quieted him, Frequently his mother, or sister, or father was obliged to stand all the time at the wings making signs, and whispering comforting words in order to assure him he was in no danger.
But a worse thing than this once happened to me, at the end of the tragedy, at the most thrilling point, when, assailed by the Corinthians, I fled desperately across the stage, dragging my children with me by either hand, mingling my screams with those of the populace, and ending by throwing the two little ones on the steps of the altar of Saturn, where I feigned to kill them. While concealing them by my person—I remained immovable as a statue—one of the murdered youngsters began to howl, and in its fright suddenly got up and ran behind the scenes before I could do anything to prevent him. And just to think that the public was to imagine that I had murdered him! Although the audience was deeply impressed by the tragic action of this scene, yet it was impossible to avoid a hearty laugh at the sight of the dead child running away.
In April, 1856, I returned to Paris. As had been arranged the year before with M. Legouvé, steps were taken at once to put Medea on the stage as quickly as possible, In the analytical study of this tragedy—one of six which I have chosen from my répertoire, and which follows in the second part of this volume—the reader will find a minute account of
