by the French
Academy, and a small volume of _Rhythmic Prose_ of which the _Revue de
lemain_ said, "That it showed the most subtle and evanescent performance
of those fugitive pieces which was sure to descend to posterity," and
when she acted in private theatricals, some exclaimed:

"It is better than the _Comedie Francaise_," while others, who were more
refined, went so far as to utter the supreme praise: "Better than the
_Theatre Libre_."

At one time, there had been a report, which had been propagated by the
newspapers, that she was going to come out at the _Opera Comique_, in a
part that had been written especially for her extraordinary voice, for
it appeared that Massenet would not hear of anybody else for the part.

She was the circus-rider, Miss Edith, who, under that assumed name gave
that unique and never-to-be-forgotten exhibition of horsemanship, and
you remember what cheers there were, and what quantities of flowers
covered the arena! And you must not forget that this was before a
_paying public_!

Then, it was notorious that she had carried off the lovers of several
celebrated courtesans, which was not one of the smallest of her
triumphs, for she had chosen as her rivals some of those terrible and
hitherto unconquered women, of whom it was said:

"Oh! When she has got hold of a man, she does not let him go again. She
has some secrets that attach them to her."

There was, therefore, nothing surprising in the fact that the Duchess
Huguette should have been so proud of so many victories, and in such
various sports; but now, for the first time, a doubt had entered her
mind. In turning over the _Notules Psychologiques_[3] of her favorite
novel-writer, she had just read these two sentences which disturbed her:

[Footnote 3: Psychological Notes.]

"If anyone wishes to excel in an art, he must have gained a living by
it."

"What pleases us in a woman of the world who gives herself up to
debauchery, is the contrast between what she is, and what she would like
to be."

And she asked herself whether she could really have lived by those arts
in which she excelled, and whether the successes that she had obtained,
did not chiefly depend on her charm of a woman of the world, who wished
to be what she was not. The last _whether_, especially, made her
anxious. For was not it precisely that special charm which had given her
an advantage over courtesans who employed secrets?

Would she have been victorious if s