In my general muddle I also imagined myself founding a
theatrical company in Aix-en-Provence. It was Aix that I chose
without particularly knowing anything about Aix.

I heard that J. Copeau was acting as stopgap for Edouard
Bourdet in the administration of the Comédie Française, but I
didn't see that this had any bearing on anything else. And sup-
posing I had seen, I would have thought: "Why should the
Comédie Française take me on at this point, when I am run down,
out of training, and have forgotten everything I ever knew?"
And a hundred kindred thoughts.

On 28 July I was given my liberty and I landed up at Toulouse
with my 800 francs demobilisation money. No one could go up
to Paris yet, through Vierzon, at which point one made one's
first contact with the forces of Occupation.

I mooned about. A few days passed, two or three. Pierre Dac,
whom I met, kindly came to my help. I also came across Charles
Wolff, who was quite wild. It was the last time I saw him.

And then suddenly I met Monsieur Fleury, the cashier of the
Français.

"What on earth are you doing here?" he said. "You're being
looked for everywhere."

"Me?"

"Yes. I've had a message from Copeau. He wants you. He
wants to engage you for the Français."

"Me?"

"Yes. Can't you hear?"

"Er--yes!"

Copeau was looking for me to engage me at the Français?

Me? Rodrigue? (Never perhaps had I felt less heroic. The
Spanish Rodrigue, yes, under pressure, but this bull of Cor-
neille's . . .)

Whoever you are, if you are ever given the opportunity of entering
the Comédie Française, take it! That is the advice I have always given
since.

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