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IheDreM that Made V x I
DeautimldVdUierer Sv I Luxuries of er Life Miseries S I Her to End These Wickednesses KteL ' - .miSMY 1 Z?v fe Lavalliere. I GO from the lights to the light. I am tired or the world, the stag? with Its B hectic rush, its superficiality and its I insincerity. r l F Undoubtedly I have enjoyed my carcor. I It would bo idle to say 1 l ave not Prino I uPfl statesmen have paid me court. Jewels jjwd gifts have been la i: .!'. upon mo I from admirers, many of whom I have never seen. Hut I know I have not won I this tribute but the glamor which sur I rounds the life of a woman of the stage Perhaps it is well that 1 make it clear what has induced mo to pivo up the si ago I at the height of my career and enter upon preparation for my novitiate into the Car-I- xuelii ' rder 'it began with a dream T had. This was I in the days before the war. 1 had ome , I homo from the theatre with a number of I friends. We were very jolly, much wine I -was drunk, there was much laughter, much love and many kisses before the party broko up for the night. Day was V dawning before I got into bed. I fell I asleep at once, for the performance was I a heavy one for me and the gaycty also I tirod me. I At once I began to dream. T saw a pic f ture of the stage, the co. tly sc-nerv and B drcs.-cs. the magnifimt gowns and jewels I of 'lie ponple in the audience. Then 1 saw I B.onts!l- of the theatre. It wan snowing. There were cold, half-starved little If Urchins of Paris huddling for shelter fm against the walls of tho house Old women wm verr' selling matches in (lie gutters, 71 drunk -n ni'-n wore slouching into a cab 1 arc i it i Kr F In a dream one can live through an age puf and think the thought- ol a lu'etime I M thought of all tho reckless extravagances T of which I had been guilty or of which 1 T had been the obk-ct I retailed particular m ftxperienc where ihe exnonditure nw At appeared io me paiticularly sinful, and I ty; recalled many acts of which I felt deeply di ashamed 9 dreaming mind went back to a ban- iWt that had been given one Sunday in If aiy honoi ;r a beautiful resort on the banks of , the Seine The table was en- ilrely decoraled with rare lavender-col-5 ored orchid.- lor my pleasure. These flow 3 srs alone bad cost perhaps 10,000 francs. fK It was the most astonishing extravagance Kit one dinner that I had ever known, even In my varied experience, and made a deep I Impression tn me at the time. i The young man who gave the banquet f exhausted his vast fortune by a series of I similar acts and a !e-;al guardian had to i be appointed for him The banquet lasted all through the warm Summer night and at dawn we were assisted into our automobile and sped lack to Paris. As I was approaching my apartment it seemed that my car ran over an old wo man who was too weak to step out of the way Though dead and crushed she stood up before my car all the way home, not saying a word but just looking at mo with reproachful, appealing ces. She war. a poor widow straggling to support a family and had been going to early work when my car ran over her. She was too weak from lack of food to step out of the way. 1 knew too well ihat there was an uncount able number of such women. In my dream the contrasting figures were strangely mixed up. Then from above I heard a deep, sweet rich voice saying: "Help these people' Do not add to the sins of the world and increase the Batter ings of the poor! Do not be a wilful para site of society! Take up yov.r cross!" I awoke then, feeling perturbed, but fell asleep again. But twice more T dreamed that dream. Each time I awoke and felt more frightened I could not get the mem ory off my mind It haunted me all dav rnd was with me when I went to the theatre in the evening. And then the most curious thing hap pened. When en the stage I seemed to recognize the faces of those who were the audience of my dreams, and when T left the theatre it was snowing, and there, un der the walls, I saw the children of my dreams and the old women and the drunken lounger?. Truly, I was worried I went to a cure who lived near my apartment, and told him my experience. He told me to pray, and that he, too, would pray. I dreamt that dream again, and finally T was con vinced that I was called' by a divine mes sage to leave my life of vanity and to work for others instead of myself. During the war I made my definite sev erance from the stage, but I gave no rea son for it, but it was but the first of several steps toward the great change. I believe heaven sent me that vision in order to prepare me for the change. When the war was declared I was playing in Paris, and at once I determined to throw myself into other work. I threw off my low-cut stage gowns and donned the garb of a nursing sister. I attended the suffer ing poilus and the brave soldiers ol Britain. I Eve Lavalliere in Her Beautiful Bed That Belonged to the Historic Mile, de la Valliere, Favorite of King Louis XIV. "In my dream I saw the ( f H'': I throng of my extravagant jf;,, 4' i U y - admirers in the theatre and a V f lC 'j ( VV 1 poor old beggarwoman and a f A I ill ' starving child outside." Q 'IAtAi b i Then there was need of help among the poor of Paris 1 went back to them be es use there were then plenty of nurses but fw women who could be patient with children In Paris 1 learned much of what I had mKsrd in m gay life upon tho :-.tage. I found the Holy Mother in those days, and she has guided me ever since It has been said that I am taking this Btep because of disappointment in love. It Is not so. I do not like to speak of such things, but it is truo that many men have wished me to marry At one time I so in tended to do. but, as Is well known, the man I cared for was killed In the fighting in Alsace-Lorraine. I know It has been suggested that it is because of that am retiring from the stage. Those who BUggest such a tulng do not speak the truth I take the veil because I have heard a voice from heaven calling me. What Her Decision Costs Her PARIS. S"pt. 20 EVE LAVALLIERE, most typical and charming of Parisian actresses, has abandoned the stage for the convent. She has in fact entered one of the severest of cloistered orders the Order of Carmel ite Nuns. The announced intention of the noted actress to hide herself from the world has already been reported in this newspaper, but at that time thero were, not unnatural ly, many persons who could not believe that she would actually carry out this sur prising decision. How could one who enjoyed more lux uries than any woman in Paris submit to the cold severities of the cloister? How could one who had interpreted the spiciest of Parisian comedies devote tho rest of her life to religion? But the astounding news was really true And Mile Lavalliere today explains for the first time the reason that led her to tak (his grave action. Briefly, that reason was a dream in which she saw the misery of the poor contrasted with her luxuries, and which continued to haunt her during her gayest performances. Mile Lavalliere has now entered the novitiate of the Car melite Order In recent years Eve Lavalllero hag been considered the foremost comedienne of the Parisian stage. Her position was fully equal to that formerly held by Madame Rejano and equhalent to that of Sarah Pernbardt in another line. Lavalliere leaped into success instanta neously, and from that moment never ceased to enjoy every luxury, to roll in wealth and to have hosts of titled admirers t her feet. Her first great success was in "Lo Vleux Marcheur" (The Old Rounder), n which she played an ultra-modern, un scrupulous, decadent, gay, amorous little fife. She had an original, attractive style of ' beauty of a rather boyish type. With won derful skill she handled the most delicate of risky scenes The eyes of Lavalliere were pronounced the most beautiful possessed by any wo man on the Parisian stage, not even ex cepting those of tho late Lucie Lantelme. To her great range of skill ns an actress she added the advantage of being an ac complished stage dancer. The French newspapers before the war were filled with stories of her luxuries and caprices Her apartments and houses were adorned with exquisite and costly treasures of ancient and modern art Her favorite color was lavender and her most (C) 1919. loteTMUonol Fcatur Berrlce, lac. intimate apartments were decorated In this color Her splendid motors were up holstered with material of the same tone. In Paris Lavalliere occupied a beautiful, princely apartment overlooking the his toric Tuileries Oardens. A visitor has described finding her there in a bed that had belonged to her namesake. Louise de la Valliere, tho earliest favorite of Louis XIV. The modern idol of the boulevards reposed there delightfully propped up with soft piles of delicate lace and cambric pil lows, enfolded In a marvelous quilt of old rose, gold and lace. Lavalllore'rf unusual type of beauty and her ultra-modern, cynical wit excited the '.nterest of the most prominent men of the French capital. Princes, statesmen, Euro pean and American millionaires thronced to her salons and laid tribute at her feet. At a supper given to celebrate her suc cess in "L'Oiseau Blesse." a rising French statesman, who divided his time between the Chamber and the theatre, said: "I toast Eve Lavalliere. the incompar able artiste, wit and genius. I drink to the brilliant and beautiful -woman, who makes Paris laugh and helps to decide the destinies of her beloved France." men?-, evfn in the niidet of the most sumptuous banquets. Eve Lavalliere often suffered strange moods of sadness and re flection. When a certain duke noted for his gayeties had pnid her a most extrava gant compliment she replied: "Thank you I wonder how you would treat me if I were poor and unknown " The war marked a turning point in her life. She plunged herself into her coun try's cause, and many a French airman found inspiration for his gallant deeds In the smile of Lavalliere. Early in the war i group of aviators banded themselves as "Lavalliere" men, for the Frenchman loves tr. fight for an ideal, and six of them won fame. "The war has altered the tenor of my life," she said. "I have drunk deeply of achievement without finding full satisfac tion, and now has come for me the time of meditation " The famous actress hastened her de cision because during the war she lost many dear friends, including one who had touched ber capricious affections more than any other. That fact, coupled with the break In her professional career, made her feel that she could never wholly re cover the magic of past days. For two years she has been assisting the sick pil grims to I-ourdes to dip themselves in the healing waters of the miraculous grotto Consider the luxuries and gr.yetles of (Jrrtt Britain Rlfbta RrTtd. V I the past life of this spoiled darling of the Parisian stage and then consider tho ex tveme hardships of the Carmelite nun's existence. When her novitiate is finally completed she will don a splendid bridal costume of white satin with lace and orange blos soms. In the convent chapel she v. ill say a last good by to her friends and then par take of the mass. In deathlike silence there will be heard the sound of a key in a lock and a bolt withdrawn. The novice will bow to her friends for the last time and step forward, 'iv.o nuns will receive her and one will present to her a crucifix which the will kiss. Upon a rough brown cushion the bride must kneel. Beside her are placed the mantle, the scapular and the girdle of the nun's costume. "What do you demand?" asks the offici ating prelate "The mercy of God, the poverty of the order and the company of the Sisters," answers the postulant. "Will you constantly persevere In the order till death?" "I will " "Will you observe these things for the love alone of our Lord?" "Yes, with the grace of God and the prayers of the Sisters." Then a priest will hand to Eve Laval liere tho brown robe, for which she has The Austerity of the fl Carmelite Nun's Exist ence Which Eve Laval liere Will Assume for ? Life in Place of the Lux uries of Her Past Career V? I g'ven up her worldly Joys and she will pass the grating The Sisters will lead her to her cell, where she will put aside her wedding dress and put on the brown iobe. At one end of the wide circle Is a crown of orange blossoms and laid upon it a wooden cross. She will take up that cross and wear it for the rest of her life. From the time a Carmelite nun takes the veil until she dies she never exposes her face. She never speaks except when compelled to do so bv religious duties. She receives no visitor but death Even her own mother would not be permitted lo visit her. '