greatest agitation, for I knew what comparisons I had to sustain, and what publicity and importance attached to that evening. My nerves were shaken, and a certain agitation took possession of me.
At my customary hour I repaired to the theatre, and went to my dressing-room in the perfect possession of all my usual health, and with scarcely concealed nervousness I began to dress. The excessive heat of the stoves, of which the theatre was full, began to tell upon me; the blood mounted to my head, and affected my voice. My heart beat fast in fear of some serious consequences; by degrees my voice grew husky until I almost lost it entirely! I was in despair! Without hesitation or reflection I threw up the window, which looked upon a bastion of the city, and heedless of the cold usual to the season—it was now the 17th of February—or of the possible evil consequences such an imprudence might entail upon me, I unfastened the body of my dress and I exposed myself to that icy temperature, hoping that the reaction it would produce within me would be sufficient to restore my voice and enable me to undertake my part in the tragedy.
The doctor, surprising me at the window, asked me if I had lost my senses,
“My voice, Doctor!” I cried. “For mercy’s sake give me back my voice!”
He replied that if I had the courage to use a very strong gargle which had been employed advantageously in similar cases by famous vocalists, he could restore me at least as much voice as would enable me to go through the play.
