full, rotund face beside the thin, drawn faces of the two women. But the
actor did not look so closely.

"Oh!" he said, continuing to intoxicate himself with declamatory
phrases, "oh! to have struggled so long. For ten years, fifteen years,
have I struggled on, supported by these devoted creatures, fed by them."

"Papa, papa, hush," cried Desiree, clasping her hands.

"Yes, fed by them, I say--and I do not blush for it. For I accept all
this devotion in the name of sacred art. But this is too much. Too much
has been put upon me. I renounce the stage!"

"Oh! my dear, what is that you say?" cried Mamma Delobelle, rushing to
his side.

"No, leave me. I have reached the end of my strength. They have slain
the artist in me. It is all over. I renounce the stage."

If you had seen the two women throw their arms about him then, implore
him to struggle on, prove to him that he had no right to give up, you
could not have restrained your tears. But Delobelle resisted.

He yielded at last, however, and promised to continue the fight a little
while, since it was their wish; but it required many an entreaty and
caress to carry the point.