M. Chérie, who acted the Michonnet to her Adrienne that evenings remarked significantly to a friend as he left the theatre, "I had a niece who died of consumption. We have seen Rachel act for the last time!"
On the 19th she embarked for Havana, where she hoped to fulfil a lucrative engagement; but the doctors, much to Raphaël's disgust and to the disappointment of the Cubans; insisted on complete rest and absence from all excitement. On the 23rd December she wrote:—
I remained some time at Charleston, so as not to expose myself to the sudden change of climate. I feel rested, that is to say, I took a complete holiday at Charleston for nineteen days, but am not quite myself yet. I cough incessantly. I wished to give a representation two days before I left; a number of charming ladies having asked me to do so, I consented. That evening of Adrienne (it was Adrienne that they asked me to act) did not increase my illness, but it showed me that some time must elapse before I continued my tour through America. I am now at Havana, under the care of a good doctor, tolerably comfortable in my domestic arrangements, while the warmth, tempered by a refreshing breeze, is delightful. If I only had my children with me I should like to remain here for years. The subscription for the first twelve evenings is already more than 60,000 francs. The day of my début, however, is not decided on. Perhaps I shall be ordered several months' rest, and shall not act at all. Whatever happens, I am resigned. All I know is that my love for my children increases every day. I must live to see them grown up. I did not write to you from Philadelphia; I felt dying then.
Then comes the last despairing outcry, when she feels the impossibility of struggling any longer against the terrible fate that had overtaken her:—
N'allez pas! m'a-t-on dit—et moi, je suis venue.[1]
- ↑ Quotation from the ode written by M. de Trobriand.
