"No one could play this part better than your sister Nell," said
Terriss to the attentive Marion, "but, as I always tell her, she does
miss one great effect. When you say 'Devil! hit me bang in the face."
"Thank you for telling me," said Marion gratefully.
"It will be much more effective," said Terriss.
It _was_. When the night came for Marion to play the part, she struck
out, and Terriss had to play the rest of the scene with a handkerchief
held to his bleeding nose!
_Ellen Terry and Eleanora Duse_
I think it was as Olivia that Eleanora Duse first saw me act. She had
thought of playing the part herself sometime, but she said: "_Never_
now!" No letter about my acting ever gave me the same pleasure as this
from her:
"MADAME: With Olivia you have given me pleasure and pain.
_Pleasure_ by your noble and sincere art--_pain_ because I
feel sad at heart when I see a beautiful and generous woman
give her soul to art--as you do--when it is life itself,
your heart itself, that speaks tenderly, sorrowfully, nobly
beneath your acting. I cannot rid myself of a certain
melancholy when I see artists as noble and distinguished as
you and Mr. Irving. Although you are strong enough (with
continual labor) to make life subservient to art, I, from my
standpoint, regard you as forces of nature itself, which
should have the right to exist for themselves instead of for
the crowd. I would not venture to disturb you, Madame, and
moreover I have so much to do that it is impossible for me
to tell you personally all the great pleasure you have given
me, because I have felt your heart. Will you believe, dear
Madame, in mine, which asks no more at this moment than to
admire you and to tell you so in any manner whatsoever.
"Always yours,
"E. Duse."[42]
It was worth having lived to get that letter!
[Illustration: _From a drawing by the Marchioness of Granby_