added gravely:
"Thank you. The great actor goes upon his pedestal again, to my own
satisfaction; but--but--don't think I care for this book. I'll wait till
some one else tells of his triumphs and his gifts," and laying it upon
the table he took his departure.

It is astonishing what a misleading portrait Signor Salvini has drawn of
himself. I worked with him, and I found him a gentleman of modest, even
retiring, disposition and most courtly manners. He was remarkably
patient at the long rehearsals which were so trying to him because his
company spoke a language he could not understand.

The love of acting and the love of saving were veritable passions with
him, and many were the amusing stories told of his economies; but, in
spite of his personal frugality, he was generous in the extreme to his
dear ones.

When I had got over my first amazement at receiving a proposal to act
with the great Italian, Mr. Chizzola, his manager, stated terms, and
hastened to say that a way had been found by which the two names could
be presented without either taking preference of the other on the bill,
and that the type would of course be the same in both--questions I
should never have given a thought to, but over which my manager stood
ready to shed his heart's blood. And when I said that I should willingly
have gone on the bills as "supporting Signor Salvini," I thought he was
going to rend his garments, and he indignantly declared that such talk
was nothing less than heresy when coming from a securely established
star.

At one of our rehearsals for the "Morte Civile," a small incident
occurred that will show how gracious Signor Salvini could be. Most
stars, having the "business" of their play once settled upon, seem to
think it veritable sacrilege to alter it, no matter how good the reason
for an alteration; and a suggestion offered to a star is generally
considered an impertinence. In studying my part of Rosalia, the
convict's wife, a very pretty bit of "business" occurred to my mind. I
was to wear the black cross so commonly seen on the breast of the Roman
peasant women, and once at an outbreak of Conrad's, I thought if I
raised that cross without speaking, and he drooped before it, it would
be effective and quite appropriate, as he was supposed to be
superstitiously devout. I mentioned it to young Salvini, who cried
eagerly, "Did you tell my father--did he see it?"

"Good heavens!" I answered, "do you suppose I would presume to