Villiers had promised Wagner to read him his one-act play _La Révolte_,
which the younger Dumas, who admired it very much, had caused to
be accepted at "The Vaudeville," the plan being to produce it the
following winter. Villiers had always postponed this serious reading.
But finally on the evening before the last day of our stay, as we were
saying good-night, they called out to him not to forget to bring the
manuscript when we should return on the morrow.
Villiers was ambitious to be a great actor--perhaps he was one; for a
long time his mind was possessed by a single idea, that of learning the
_rôle_ of Hamlet and interpreting it better than anyone else had ever
done. He had even expended very considerable sums on the preparation
of a suitable costume, of black velvet and jet, which he often put on
and, standing before a mirror, passed whole nights in trying different
effects. At this time a pair of padded tights was all that remained of
the costume, and Villiers sometimes wore them on social occasions, when
he wished to have beautiful legs.
The reading of _La Révolte_, at Tribschen, was a glorious moment for
the author of that work.
When he read or declaimed, there was no longer any question of
inarticulate speech or broken phrasing. He enunciated the text in a
clear and resonant voice, and with such perfect art that both the
characters and the sentiments were wonderfully distinct.
He was listened to in a religious silence, with extreme attention and
an increasing interest.
It is certain that if the play fell, in "The Vaudeville," before
the Philistines whom it scourged, it was avenged in advance on this
evening, when it went off with shining success.
"You are a true poet," said Wagner to the author, who was greatly
elated, "and I should like to see you turn upon the ideal world, more
important than the real for artists like us, the same searching gaze
with which you have penetrated the material world. I should like to see
you draw forth from there types as living as those which you have just
evoked."
Villiers explained, very clearly this time, that it was in defence of
the ideal that he had created this character--a woman haunted by lofty
aspirations, yet married to a man who was of the earth earthy, utterly
incapable of understanding her, and constantly torturing her without
knowing it.
"A feminine Prometheus," concluded he, "whose vitals are devoured by a
goose!"
The evening was prolonged as much as possible, but the time came, all
the same, for the farewells and separation. It was agreed upon that
we should pass a few more days here on our return from Munich, as the
shortest route back to Paris is certainly by way of Tribschen.
A last time, then, we drove in Wagner's carriage along the dark roads,
and after it had left us at the hotel, we listened for a long time to
the sound of the wheels and the beating of the horses' hoofs, becoming
gradually fainter and fading away, little by little, into the night....
Early next morning, when we came out of the Hôtel du Lac to go to the
station, whom should we find waiting for us, but Russ, the beautiful
Newfoundland!
He sometimes came alone to see us in this way, but on this especial
day and at such an hour it was truly very singular! Was it because he
had an intimation of some change, or had they sent him to bear us a
last salute?
Very gratified and very much touched, we responded to his caresses,
and it was upon his great, kind head that, with sincere emotion, we
pressed the kiss of farewell.