In his summary of Lorelei's present life Slosson had not been far
wrong. Many changes had come to the Knights during the past two
years--changes of habit, of thought, and of outlook; the entire family
had found it necessary to alter their system of living. But it was in
the girl that the changes showed most. When Mrs. Knight had forecast an
immediate success for her daughter she had spoken with the wisdom of a
Cassandra. Bergman had taken one look at Lorelei upon their first
meeting, then his glance had quickened. She had proved to have at least
an average singing-voice; her figure needed no comment. Her
inexperience had been the strongest argument in her favor, since
Bergman's shows were famous for their new faces. The result was that he
signed her promptly, and mother and daughter had walked out of his
office quite unconscious of having accomplished the unusual. At first
the city had seemed strange and bewildering, and Lorelei had suffered
pangs at the memory of Vale, for at her age the roots of association
strike deep; but in a short time the novelty of her new life proved an
anodyne and deadened acute regrets, while the vague hazard of it all
kept her at an agreeable pitch of excitement.
Moreover, she took naturally to the work, finding it more like play;
and, being quite free from girlish timidity, she felt no stage-fright,
even upon her first appearance. Her recognition had followed
quickly--it was impossible to hide such perfection of loveliness as
hers--and the publicity pleased her. In due course rival managers began
to make offers, which Mrs. Knight, rising nobly to the first test of
her business ability, used as levers to raise her daughter's salary and
to pry out of Bergman a five-year contract. The role of the Fairy
Princess was a result.
Thus it was that without conscious effort, without even a proof of
merit beyond her appearance, Lorelei had arrived at the point where
further advancement depended upon study and hard work; but, since these
formed no part of the family program, she remained idle while Mrs.
Knight and Jim arranged so many demands upon her time that she had no
leisure for serious endeavors, even had she desired it. Proficiency in
stage-craft of any sort comes only at the expense of peonage, and this
girl was being groomed solely for matrimony.
The principals who topped the Bergman bill were artists--men and women
who had climbed through years of patient effort; toward their
subordinates they maintained an aloofness that is peculiar to the show
business. They moved in a world apart from the chorus: the two classes
impinged briefly eight times a week, but outside the theater they never
saw each other. Even Labaudie, the doll-like danseuse, looked down upon
Lorelei and Lilas almost as she looked down upon the members of her
ballet. Out of all the big company there were perhaps a half-dozen
chorus men and women who had eyes definitely fixed upon a stage career;
the rest, like Lorelei and Lilas, regarded the work simply as an easy
means of livelihood.
The theatrical profession is peculiar to itself. It is a world with
customs, habits, and ambitions differing from those of any other
sphere. That division of stage life to which Lorelei Knight
belonged--that army of men and women from shows like
Bergman's--constitutes a still more distinctive community--a community,
moreover, that is characteristic of New York alone. Its code is of its
own making; its habits of life are as individual as its figures of
speech. Although at first all this bewildered the country girl, at
length she had come to adopt the new ways as a matter of course. From
the association she had learned much. She had learned how to reap the
fruits of popularity, how to take without giving, how to profit without
sacrifice; and under her mother's influence she was not allowed to
forget what she had learned.
With the support of the family entirely upon her shoulders, she had
been driven to many shifts in order to stretch her salary to livable
proportions. Peter was a total burden, and Jim either refused or was
unable to contribute toward the common fund, while the mother devoted
her time almost solely to managing Lorelei's affairs. Presents were
showered upon the girl, and these Mrs. Knight converted into cash.
Conspicuous stage characters are always welcome at the prominent cafes;
hence Lorelei never had to pay for food or drink when alone, and when
escorted she received a commission on the money spent. She was well
paid for posing, advertisements of toilet articles, face creams,
dentifrices, and the like, especially if accompanied by testimonials,
yielded something. In the commercial exploitation of her daughter Mrs.
Knight developed something like genius. She arranged for paid
interviews and special beauty articles in the Sunday supplements; she
saw to it that Lorelei's features became identified with certain makes
of biscuits, petticoats, chewing-gums, chocolates, cameras, short-vamp
shoes, and bath-tubs. But of all the so-called "grafts" open to
handsome girls in her business the quickest and best returns came from
prodigal entertainers like Jarvis Hammon.
As Lorelei and her companion left their taxi-cabs and entered Proctor's
Hotel, shortly before midnight, they were met by a head waiter and
shown into an ornate ivory-and-gold elevator which lifted them
noiselessly to an upper floor. They made their exit into a
deep-carpeted hall, at the end of which two splendid creatures in the
panoply of German field-marshals stood guard over one of the smaller
banquet-rooms.
Hammon himself greeted the girls when they had surrendered their wraps,
and, after his introduction to Lorelei, engaged Lilas in earnest
conversation.
Lorelei watched him curiously. She saw a powerfully built gray-haired
man, whose vigor age had not impaired. In face he was perhaps fifty
years old, in body he was much less. He was the typical forceful New
York man of affairs, carefully groomed, perhaps a little inclined to
stoutness. By this time millionaires had lost their novelty for the
girl. She had met some who were more distinguished in appearance than
this man, but never one who seemed possessed of more nervous energy and
virility. Jarvis Hammon had a bold, incisive manner that was compelling
and stamped him as a big man in more ways than one. Playfully he
pinched Lilas's cheek, then turned with a smile to say:
"You'll pardon us for whispering, won't you, Miss Knight? You see,
Lilas got up this little party, and I've been waiting to consult her
about some of the details. Of course, she was late, as usual.
However"--he ran an admiring eye over the two girls--"the time wasn't
wasted, I see. My! How lovely you both look!"
Taking an arm of each, he swept them toward a reception-room from which
issued noisy laughter.
"Awfully good of you to come, Miss Knight. I hope you'll find my
friends agreeable and enjoy yourself."
Perhaps twenty men in evening dress and as many elaborately gowned
young women were gossiping and smoking as the last comers appeared.
Some one raised a vigorous complaint at the host's tardiness, but
Hammon laughed a rejoinder, then gave a signal, whereupon folding-doors
at the end of the room were thrown back. From within an orchestra
struck up a popular rag-time air, and those nearest the banquet-hall
moved toward it. A girl whom Lorelei recognized as a fellow-member of
the Revue danced up to her escort with arms extended, and the two
turkey-trotted into the larger room.
Hammon was introducing two of his friends--one a languid, middle-aged
man who was curled up in a deep chair with a cigarette between his
fingers; the other a large-featured person with a rumbling voice. The
men had been arguing earnestly, oblivious of the confusion around them;
but now the former dropped his cigarette, uncoiled his long form, and,
rising, bowed courteously. His appearance as he faced Lorelei was
prepossessing, and she breathed a thanksgiving as she took his arm.
Hammon clapped the other gentleman upon the shoulder, crying: "The rail
market will take care of itself until to-morrow, Hannibal. What is more
to the point, I saw your supper partner flirting with 'Handsome Dan'
Avery. Better find her quick."
Lorelei recognized the deep-voiced man as Hannibal C. Wharton, one of
the dominant figures in the Steel Syndicate; she knew him instantly
from his newspaper pictures. The man beside her, however, was a
stranger, and she raised her eyes to his with some curiosity. He was
studying her with manifest admiration, despite the fact that his lean
features were cast in a sardonic mold.
"It is a pleasure to meet a celebrity like you, Miss Knight," he
murmured. "All New York is at your feet, I understand. I'm deeply
indebted to Hammon. Blessings on such a host!"
"Oh, don't be hasty. You may dislike me furiously before the evening is
over. He does things in a magnificent way, doesn't he? I'm sure this is
going to be a splendid party."
As they entered the banquet-hall she gave a little cry of pleasure, for
it was evident that Hammon, noted as he was for a lavish expenditure,
had outdone himself this time. The whole room had been transformed into
a bower of roses, great, climbing bushes, heavy with blooms; masses of
cool, green ivy hid the walls from floor to ceiling and were supported
upon cunningly wrought trellises through which hidden lights glowed
softly. In certain nooks gleamed marble statuettes so placed as to
heighten the effect of space and to carry out the idea of a Roman
garden.
The table, a horseshoe of silver and white, of glittering plate and
sparkling cut-glass, faced a rustic stage which occupied one end of the
room; occupying the inner arc of the half-circle was a wide but shallow
stone fountain, upon the surface of which floated large-leaved Egyptian
pond-lilies. Fat-bellied goldfish with filmy fins, and tails like
iridescent wedding trains, propelled themselves indolently about. Two
dimpled cupids strained at a marble cornucopia, out of which trickled a
stream of water, its whisper drowned now by the noisy admiration of the
guests.
But the surprising feature of the decorating scheme was not apparent at
first glance. Through the bewildering riot of greenery had been woven
an almost invisible netting, and the space behind formed a prison for
birds and butterflies. Where they had come from or at what expense they
had been procured it was impossible to conceive. But, disturbed by the
commotion, the feathered creatures twittered and fluttered against the
netting in a panic which drew attention to them even if it did not
wholly convey the illusion of a woodland scene. As for the butterflies,
no artificial light could deceive them, and they clung with closed
wings to leaves and branches, only now and then displaying their full
glory in a sleepy protest. There were scores, hundreds of them, and the
diners passed in review of the spectacle like country visitors before
the glass tanks of the Aquarium. A strident shriek sounded as a
gorgeously caparisoned peacock preened himself; others were discovered
here and there, brilliant-hued specimens, voicing shrill indignation.
"How--BEAUTIFUL!" gasped Lorelei, when she had taken in the whole
scene. "But--the poor little things are frightened." She looked up to
find her companion staring in Hammon's direction with an expression of
peculiar, derisive amusement.
Hammon was the center of an admiring group; congratulations were being
hurled at him from every quarter. At his side was Lilas Lynn, very
dark, very striking, very expensively gowned, and elaborately
bejeweled. The room was dinning with the strains of an invisible
orchestra and the vocal uproar; topping the confusion came shrieks from
the excitable peacocks; the wild birds twittered and beat themselves
affrightedly against the netting.
Becoming conscious of Lorelei's gaze, her escort looked down, showing
his teeth in a grin that was not of pleasure.
"You like it?" he asked.
"It's beautiful, but--the extravagance is almost criminal."
"Don't tell me how many starving newsboys or how many poor families the
cost of this supper would support for a year. I hate poor people. I
like to see 'em starve. If you fed them this year they'd starve next,
so--what's the difference? Nevertheless, Jarvis HAS surprised me." He
paused, and his eyes, as he stared again at the steel magnate, were
mocking. "You'll admit it was a dazzling idea--coming from a
rolling-mill boss. Now for the ortolans and the humming-bird tongues.
No doubt there's a pearl in every wine-cup. Prepare to have your palate
tickled with a feather when your appetite flags."
"That's what the Romans did, isn't it?"
"Ah, you are a student as well as an artist, Miss Knight."
"I thought you were going to be pleasant, but you're not, are you?"
Lorelei was smiling fixedly.
"No, quite the opposite. Thank God, I'm a dyspeptic."
"Then why did you come here?"
"Why did those birds come? Why did you come?"
"Oh, we--the birds and I--are merely decorations--something to add to
the rich man's gaiety. But I'm afraid you don't intend to have a good
time, Mr.--" They had found their places at the table, and Lorelei's
escort was seating her. "I didn't catch your name when we were
introduced."
"Nor I," said he, taking his place beside her. "It sounded like Rice
Curry or some other damnable dish, but it's really Merkle--John T.
Merkle."
"Ah! You're a banker. Aren't you pretty--reckless confessing your rank,
as it were?"
"I'm a bachelor; also an invalid and an insomniac. You couldn't bring
me any more trouble than I have."
"You ARE unpleasant."
"I'm famous for it. Being the only bachelor present, I claim the
privilege of free speech." Again he looked toward Hammon, and this time
he frowned. "From indications I'll soon have company, however."
"Indeed. Is there talk of a divorce there?" She inclined her head in
the host's direction.
Merkle retorted acidly: "My dear child, don't try to act the ingenue.
You're in the same show as Miss Lynn, and you must know what's going
on. This sort of thing can't continue indefinitely, for Mrs. Hammon is
very much alive, to say nothing of her daughters. I dare say they'll
hear about this supper, which won't improve conditions at home. Now, we
both had to come to this Oriental orgy, and, since neither of us enjoys
it, let's be natural, at least. I haven't slept lately, and I'm not
patient enough to be polite."
"It's a bargain. I'll try to be as disagreeable as you are," said
Lorelei; and Mr. Merkle signified his prompt acquiescence. He lit a
huge monogrammed cigarette, pushed aside his hors d'oeuvres, and
reluctantly turned down his array of wine-glasses one by one.
"Can't eat, can't drink, can't sleep," he grumbled. "Stewed prunes and
rice for my portion. Waiter, bring me a bottle of vichy, and when it's
gone bring me another."
The diners had arranged themselves by now; the supper had begun. Owing
to the nature of the affair, there was a complete absence of the
stiffness usual at formal banquets, and, since the women were present
in quite the same capacity as the performers who were hired to appear
later on the stage, they did not allow the moments to drag. A bohemian
spirit prevailed; the ardor of the men, lashed on by laughter,
coquetry, and smiles, rose quickly; wine flowed, and a general intimacy
began. Introductions were no longer necessary, the talk flew back and
forth along the rim of the rose-strewn semicircle.