au mien qui ne demande pas mieux dans cet instant
que de vous admirer et de vous le dire tant bien que mal d'une maniere
quelconque. Bien a vous.

"E. DUSE."

When I wrote to Madame Duse the other day to ask her permission to
publish this much-prized letter, she answered:

BUENOS AYRES,
_Septembre 11, 1907._

"Chere Ellen Terry,--

"Au milieu du travail en Amerique, je recois votre lettre envoyee a
Florence.

"Vous me demandez de publier mon ancienne lettre amicale. Oui, chere
Ellen Terry; ce que j'ai donne vous appartient; ce que j'ai dit, je le
peux encore, et je vous aime et admire comme toujours....

"J'espere que vous accepterez cette ancienne lettre que j'ai rendue plus
claire et un peu mieux ecrite. Vous en serez contente avec moi car,
ainsi faisant, j'ai eu le moyen de vous dire que je vous aime et de vous
le dire deux fois.

"A vous de coeur,

"E. DUSE."

Dear, noble Eleanora Duse, great woman, great artist--I can never
appreciate you in words, but I store the delight that you have given me
by your work, and the personal kindness that you have shown me, in the
treasure-house of my heart!

When I celebrated my stage jubilee you traveled all the way from Italy
to support me on the stage at Drury Lane. When you stood near me,
looking so beautiful with wings in your hair, the wings of glory they
seemed to me, I could not thank you, but we kissed each other and you
understood!

"Clap-trap" was the verdict passed by many on the Lyceum "Faust," yet
Margaret was the part I liked better than any other--outside
Shakespeare. I played it beautifully sometimes. The language was often
very commonplace--not nearly as poetic or dramatic as that of "Charles
I."--but the character was all right--simple, touching, sublime.

The Garden Scene I know was unsatisfactory. It was a bad, weak
love-scene, but George Alexander as Faust played it admirably. Indeed he
always acted like an angel with me; he was so malleable, ready to do
anything. He was launched into the part at very short notice, after H.B.
Conway's failure on the first night. Poor Conway! It was Coghlan as
Shylock all over again.

Henry called a rehearsal the next day--on Sunday, I think. The company
stood about in groups on the stage while Henry walked up and down,
speechless, but humming a tune occasionally, always a portentous sign
with him. The scene set was the Brocken Scene, and Conway stood at the
top of the slope as far away from Henry as he co