The machine which Jimmy explained to Lily in detail was a bike just like

another, with a few differences in its general construction, bearing upon

the services which it was expected to perform. The saddle, for instance,

was made to slide backward and forward, so that the center of equilibrium

could be shifted with a push of the rider's back. The stability of the

apparatus did not depend upon that alone. The ascensional rudder or

screw-propeller, which was able to impart a speed of thirty miles an hour

to the machine, was in the extension of the horizontal bar of the frame.

It was fitted to a long piece of bent steel, pinned below the saddle,

which, running beside the frame, ended by forming a pedal, so that, with a

pressure of the foot, the rider could move it downward, at will, within an

arc of some ten degrees. This propeller, which was small in dimensions,

but endowed with enormous speed, was, in its normal position,

perpendicular to the frame. The pressure of the foot raised it to its

highest point. In this position, the propeller turned at full speed and

therefore tended to descend and, consequently, to point the front of the

aerobike upward. When brought still lower, its ascensional force increased

and the front of the aerobike pitched downward. These two extremes would

obviously serve only in sudden movements. In reality, the rider's skill

would consist in moving the propeller only very slightly, in order to

maintain a horizontal flight. As for the machine itself, Jimmy had

rejected the cumbersome system of cells, which he compared to boxes:

"The shape of a fish for the ship, the shape of a bird for the

flying-machine," he said.

He stuck to that principle and therefore he had added two enormous wings,

one on each side. He had first experimented with reduced models, shaped

like a bird, sending them up anyhow, to see, and he had ended by

constructing one which preserved its stability when gliding over the

atmospheric layers. He had thus been led to construct wings with a

slightly rounded surface whose coefficient of yield was nearly double that

of wings with flat surfaces. The width of these wings was about five feet

and their length about sixteen. They tapered a little, were drawn out in

front and widened at the opposite end, so as to get a more powerful hold

of the air. They were made of double-milled canvas, stretched on curved

ash and fastened to the sections by aluminum stays riveted with copper and

clenched. They were as light as they were stiff. These two wings pointed

slightly upward in front, parallel to the machine, and were fastened to it

in the middle by means of an axis below the saddle-pillar, which brought

their axis to the center of gravity. Other ingenious and quite individual

arrangements made the apparatus very manageable. The resistance of the

air, combined with the propelling power of the screw, exercised all its

force in vain: the wings remained stationary. Their lines were carefully

studied to facilitate the flow of the air, on the principle of Langley's

kite: and the two of them presented a carrying surface of forty-nine

square feet.

"It's not much," Jimmy explained to Lily, who listened attentively. "If I

carried my motor," he said, "I should have a bigger surface. The machine

ought then, theoretically speaking, to rise when it is going at a rate of

thirty miles an hour; with a good back push the front-wheel would leave

the ground and continue its course upward. But, on the stage, we have no

room to acquire speed: we shall get it from an inclined plane, as at the

start of 'Looping the Loop.' As for the side steering, the front wheel has

spokes fitted with canvas and offers resistance to the air: it will steer

the aerobike to left or right at a touch of the handle-bar, as in ordinary

riding, and there you are, Lily."

"My!" said Lily, bewildered by all this complicated apparatus. "Did you

work it all out on paper? It's enough to drive one mad!"

"When you're on it, Lily," said Jimmy, smiling, "you'll have to work also,

_I_ promise you. But, with your talent, ... you'll manage better than I

should. And to-morrow," he added, "I will give you something on account of

your salary."

"No, I have money," said Lily, very proudly and fearing lest she should

wear out her luck by adding that to it, by being paid for doing

nothing....

Lily spent the whole week in a fever of expectation; she did not know

where she was for joy. But she stifled that within herself. And it was

owing to her talent, all owing to her talent! When people wanted a

difficult trick done, they did not go to Daisy or the fat freaks, no, they

came to little Lily! And it was settled, she wanted no more familiarity,

now that she was going to top the bill at the Astrarium! A lady should be

more reserved in her friendships: she would make herself very

short-sighted, so short-sighted as to be almost blind, when she met the

rotten lot! Resolved, that she would give up saying, "Damn it!" give up

talking of smackings and using vulgar expressions:

"Do you hear, Glass-Eye?" she said, calling her maid to witness. "You're

to box my ears if you catch me at it again!"

The thought of having to handle that delicate machine increased Lily's

importance in her own eyes. She had noticed that Poland, apart from an

inordinate love of champagne suppers, had very nice manners: Lily would

profit by her example and become more refined; she would show Pa and Ma

the kind of Lily they had lost and she would crush them with the amount of

her salary! She would earn more by herself than the whole troupe. She

would let them know it, even if she had to do the trick for nothing, for

glory, to see her Ma beg her pardon on her knees! She had recovered all

the pride of her eighteen years, all her freshness, in a day: the touch of

bitterness about her lips had changed into a smile. It would have taken

very little more to make her dance for joy. But she restrained herself,

dared not believe in her happiness; and she was quite decided not to

accept anything from Jimmy before earning it. It was bad enough to owe him

that thousand marks. She made herself a nice practising dress and spent

the morning in bed reading a novel of fashionable life, of which the

heroine was called Lily, like herself! And she, too, would become a

society-girl, just to show them, damn it! But, suddenly, catching herself

at fault, she laughed and asked Glass-Eye for a box on the ear; and a

desperate pillow-fight ensued, in which they indulged whole-heartedly,

like two regular tom-boys who loved to wrestle and punch each other. And

it put her in a good humor for the rest of the day. She went shopping

through the windows, only bought herself a spray of roses to fasten to her

bodice. She went to the Astrarium, walked in as though the place belonged

to her, followed by her maid. She examined the works with the eye of an

expert. Three days, three days more and she would begin to rehearse! Her

legs were itching to commence!

The alterations to the stage especially interested her. The door of the

cage remained closed and Lily looked at the auditorium:

"Is it possible, after all?" she thought.

And she measured the distance with her eye. It seemed enormous to her, but

never mind, she'd do it! And she grew wildly enthusiastic in the midst of

all that activity, of a theater which was being rearranged for her: "For

me, Glass-Eye! All of it for me! From here," she said, stamping her foot

on the stage, "from here to right up there!" And she pointed to the hole

in the sky. "All that on the bike! A somersault miles high!"

[Illustration: OLD MARTELLO]

Glass-Eye opened two terrified eyes, wondered if Lily was going mad....

Glass-Eye had become dulled through constant obedience, had lost her

memory, mixed up her yeses and noes, like those actors who forget their

parts through playing them too frequently; her recent life had excited her

too much, and never a sou in her pocket, only barely enough to eat ... it

was ten times worse than in Rathbone Place.... And then that new crotchet

of Lily's.

"Can I fly, Glass-Eye, or can't I? Am I a bird or am I not?" It was enough

to make Glass-Eye lose her head....

Glass-Eye was obliged to answer yes ... and that very quickly. But she

kept on trotting behind Lily, who, realizing that she would soon be taken

up with her rehearsals, took advantage of her last days of liberty to pay

visits and show herself a little, accompanied by her maid, like the fine

lady that she was. She went and took the Bambinis some candies. Poor kids!

Their games and laughter no longer filled the hotel with mirth and gaiety:

old Martello was getting worse and worse and was now not able to leave his

room at all. Lily found a kind word for everybody and was grieved at not

having any money, which would have allowed her to be generous. That would

come later. She worked out a scheme for occupying herself with the

children when the old man was gone, for having them always with her, like

two dear little lucky charms. It was impossible, of course: never mind, it

was the idea of a lady, which she would not have had in the old days, and

Lily was pleased with herself for having entertained it.

"I will speak about you to Jimmy," she said to the Bambinis. "I'll get you

engaged at the Astrarium, eh?"

And the old man trembled with delight, stammered out his thanks, tried to

accompany her to the door, like a princess; and the little boy, to thank

her, promised to teach her a way of standing on your head which he had

learned all by himself!

"Poor darlings!" thought Lily, as she left them. "If ever they fall into

their brother's hands! They would be better dead! Luckily for them, he has

disappeared for good; and his Ave Maria with him, unluckily for me!"

For Lily understood how badly her position as a lady went with that name

of Mrs. Trampy. It was like dragging a tin kettle at her skirts, to make

the people in the street turn round and look at her.

And, more than ever before, Trampy posed as a faithful husband. Nothing

sufficed to take down his arrogance. Always the same old Trampy: great, by

Jove! And, with his red lips, his glittering eye and the cigar stuck in

the corner of his mouth, he made love to second-rate "sisters," inferior

Roofers in red calico skirts. His glamorous title as the bill-topper's

husband still won him a few conquests. And Trampy, especially since

Jimmy's return, plumed himself more and more on the fact that he was the

husband of his dear little wife!

Lily knew all this and it made her fume with rage at heart; but she showed

nothing, pretended, on the contrary, to treat it as a little matter of no

account. For instance, after her visit to the Bambinis, as she passed an

artistes' bar, quite close, there stood Trampy, lording it on the

pavement, among a lot of unemployed pros. Lily made herself short-sighted

to the point of absolute blindness. Trampy caught her, as she passed, with

a:

"Hullo, Lily! Hullo, my dear little wife!"

But Lily behaved like a real fine lady who knows how to put people in

their place without calling them names:

"Hullo, Mr. Trampy!" she replied, in a sarcastic tone. "Still got your

red-hot stove, Mr. Trampy? Still a success with the girls? Kind regards,

Mr. Trampy!"

CHAPTER II

But Lily was grandest of all at the rehearsals. She was now no longer a

lady: she once more became the Spartan, bare-necked, her hair undone, her

body streaming with perspiration, and to work, to work, to make up for

lost time! In the mornings, alone on the deserted stage, she practised and

practised....

"Come on!" said Jimmy. "And mind you do your work properly," he added,

with a laugh, "or else, you know ..."

And he patted the back of his hand.

"I don't care!" said Lily.

"You may break your head, you know," continued Jimmy, to try her.

"It's none of your damned business if I do! Show me your tricks. To

work!"

And Jimmy showed her a movement to execute on her bike, which she had

brought with her: balancings, as in "Bridging the Abyss," an excellent

training for the aerobike. And Lily went about it clear-eyed,

hard-cheeked, with all the little muscles contracted on her stubborn

forehead, ready to butt at the obstacle. A few falls to begin with, but

she jumped up again nimbly:

"That's all right!" she said. "It's part of the game!"

"But stop, stop," insisted Jimmy. "Be careful!"

They were sometimes on the stage for hours at a time, but to Lily, all

wrapped in her work, it seemed so many minutes. She understood the jerk

which she was to give at the moment when, after rolling along the inclined

plane, she should shoot out into space for the soaring flight of fifty

yards:

"The start, that's the great thing with the back-wheel," she observed.

"The rest goes of itself."

"Don't cry till you're out of the wood!" said Jimmy. "It'll be different

when you're riding the aerobike."

Lily was longing to begin that famous practice! And, a few days later, she

at last had that delight, took that further step toward triumph. Jimmy

removed the bird from the cage, fixed it on a stand. When Lily sat in the

saddle, she was crimson with pleasure, prouder than a princess sitting on

a throne for the first time:

"There," she said. "Here I am! And what next?"

Jimmy explained the complicated touches--"Press your left foot, there,

like that, to make it point upward"--and showed how, explained why; then

he passed to the working of the handle-bar--"There, like that, to turn it,

there"--and how and why the saddle slipped backward and forward.

"And then?"

"That's all."

"That's all?" repeated Lily. "That won't want any smackings! Let's see,

like this, eh? Then that. Suppose I'm coming down at full speed. I throw

myself backward, a back push, there, like that. A kick, gently, there,

that's it. I'll do it as soon as you like! This minute, if necessary!"

But Jimmy, without replying to these sallies, proceeded methodically. He

made her practise again, standing still, with the motor going at

half-speed. This was a different impulse: the displacement of the air

raised a stormy wind, the dust flew, the scenery hanging from the flies

waved to and fro and Lily shook in her saddle under the vibration of the

propeller.

"Well, Lily?" said Jimmy. "That shakes you up, eh? That complicates

matters?"

"Pooh!" said Lily. "And what about the boards? There are some of them that

are pretty rough, too! At Pittsburg, you know, it's like riding over

cobblestones. I prefer that to a stage that's too smooth: it's less

treacherous."

A few days later, Jimmy ran up a steel cable from the stage to the opening

in the ceiling, which was now finished and covered with a tarpaulin; and

Lily was to try the flying. At the time for practice, there was no one in

the theater, from which the scaffoldings had been removed. There were no

seats on the floor or in the boxes: everything was being made outside, and

would be put in place in a day or two. In the afternoon, when there was no

practice, the house was filled with workmen, painters, upholsterers,

carpenters, whose places were taken by others at night, working by

electric light. Ten days more and they would have the triumphal opening;

already Paris was covered with picture placards: you saw Tom, as a

caryatid, supporting the weight of a palace; the Three Graces entwined in

their radiant nudity; the impersonator standing, like a Don Juan,

surrounded by a bevy of women: the ballet-girl, the shop-girl, the fine

lady; then, besides those, the New Trickers--"My idea!" thought Lily, but

she didn't care a jot now--the New Trickers fluttered round Daisy. You saw

the elephants; the monkey; Patti-Patty, the white negress; all, all, down

to the Bambinis, whom Lily had "got" engaged. The whole program was

reverberated on the walls and hoardings, like a thousand-voiced echo. An

even larger poster than the others, all blue, strewn with stars, displayed

the aerobike in full flight in the sky; and a human figure, seated upon

it, lifted a hand filled with rays.

The mere sight of the posters was enough to stimulate Lily to the maddest

feats of daring. She felt herself firmer than steel, when she thought of

the New Trickers and of Pa and Ma, who were coming with Daisy, their

farthing dip!

When everything was ready, Jimmy hung the aerobike to the steel cable by

two ropes, ten feet long, ending in pulleys which ran along the cable.

Each of these two ropes was looped up and the loop secured with thin

twine: this was an infallible way of ascertaining if the aerobike weighed

down upon them or if it was supporting itself in the air; the two cords

acted as a spring balance registering the tension in the rope. Should the

twine break, because the aerobike rested on the ropes, then the ropes

would unloop and the machine remain hanging without any danger for Lily.

This was the way in which Jimmy had worked when learning "his trade as a

bird," as he called it; and Lily, he had no doubt, would succeed even

better than he did, being more supple, lighter and quite as plucky.

Oh, the rapture with which Lily bestrode the aerobike for the first

flight!

Jimmy and two confidential assistants hauled up the machine to the top of

the inclined plane that gave it its impetus. Jimmy spent an endless time

in verifying and testing everything. The electric wire that set the

propeller in motion also caused him uneasiness. It had to unroll behind

and follow the aerobike without weighing upon it, without retarding its

flight; for the machine, which was necessarily a small one, to be able to

move within a confined space, did not carry the additional load of a

motor, but only a wire, as wireless transmission of power was not yet

available. At last, when everything was provided for, Jimmy allowed Lily

to make her trial. He trembled; not that she ran any danger, for a fall

was impossible: the machine was stopped, up above, automatically, by a

cable stretched crosswise and fastened to a strong spring, which slowed

and stayed the flight within the space of a few yards. But if the two

pieces of twine broke suddenly and if this happened several times in

succession, the shocks might come to frighten Lily, for all her

self-control.

And Jimmy went on explaining.

"I know," said Lily. "I quite understand. It's like this, like this, yes,

I know. It's only a matter of trying! It's a trick I've got to do and

that's all about it! Daisy would kill herself on it and so would the fat

freaks, but I shan't! I shall succeed."

"Well, then, steady!" cried Jimmy, and his voice rang through the empty

theater. "Go!"

The machine ran down with a swoop, the propeller whirred, Lily gave a

magnificent back push, when she reached the bottom of the inclined plane;

then she went straight up and the two pieces of twine snapped in two. Lily

found herself hanging fifty feet in the air, the two pulleys glided slowly

backward toward the stage. Jimmy stopped the machine.

"That's wrong!" cried Lily. "Let's try again. I see what it was: I forgot

to push down my foot to point the machine up. It was a slip."

However, at the next attempt, it went better. The twine broke each time,

but Lily rectified her movements:

"It's my back push! It's the propeller! It's the front-wheel!"

And, in fact, that was what it was. Jimmy and his assistants, who followed

her with their eyes, had noted the fault and Lily, too, had observed it,

in spite of the giddy flight. She was extraordinarily plucky and cool, her

eight stone of flesh and bone, unerring and exact, seemed made for the

aerobike.

"Bravo, Lily! Hurrah!" cried Jimmy.

She could have screamed for joy in the street, as she went out.

Her unparalleled stroke of luck in being chosen tickled her heart. She

felt her sense of responsibility increase and also her wish to do well; no

sooner had she left off practising than she was seized with but one idea,

to begin again:

"Eight days more!" she thought.

At night, she dreamed of backward jerks, of turning the handle-bar,

pushing the pedal. Poor Glass-Eye, cowering in a corner of the bed, had

terrible nightmares, and, in the morning, after Lily's kicks, she rose

with her ribs smarting and her shins all black and blue. That was all her

profit, for Lily had hardly any money left and was not yet drawing a

salary.

Lily submitted to all sorts of privation with a proud dignity. She would

be beholden to nobody. Soon her whole fortune would consist of her box of

lucky halfpence and a franc which she had won by turning a cartwheel, for

a bet, among artistes, in the country, to stagger the jossers. And so

their little evening meal was a scanty one. A sausage, a little fruit, a

cup of tea ... and then to bed. That was better than listening to the

owner of the Hours and all those men who propose things to you. Never,

never! Her work, her work! Lord, after what she had seen of Poland and the

Hours, it was much simpler to work, to be self-reliant. At night,

sometimes, Lily would lie awake and think ... where did that three hundred

francs of the Bijou come from? Not from the Bijou: Cataplasm's defeat had

swallowed up everything and the theater had long been without a penny;

they used to fill the house with paper distributed among the staff, with

orders to get rid of it anyhow. They were not far short of inviting

soldiers from the barracks. There had never been more than two hundred

seats paid for of an evening; it meant flat bankruptcy. And she was the

only one who had received anything: why? How? Then it must have been some

admirer, but who? Not the architect, surely, that josser! Who then? And

why had Jimmy engaged the Bambinis, when she asked him to? He did

everything to please her. He was letting her top the bill: why? She made a

heap of guesses, without getting at the exact truth ... Jimmy ... Jimmy

... that man, with his coldness, interested her. While so many others were

prowling around her, he alone seemed indifferent. She would have liked to

see him in love with her ... to make him suffer a little in his turn! All

the beauty-shows which Lily had seen, all the exhibitions of painted Hours

had not spoiled her good taste: Jimmy pleased her, with that strong face

of his. What an endless pity that she had married Trampy! She gave a

scornful pout when she thought of it: she married to Trampy! Married to

that soaker: she, a woman made for a man, a creature of flesh and blood,

who admired fine muscles, rough sport and virile smackings! Gee, if she

had been a man, it seemed to her that she would have enjoyed spoiling a

little Lily: outside working hours, of course! And, if a little Lily had

asked her, "Do you love me, yes or no?" she would never have answered no.

To-day, she would have bitten off her own tongue rather than put that

question to Jimmy! And yet Jimmy had a dignity about him that pleased her.

She could see into the game of the others. The architect, for instance,

would give her just a smile in passing, a pleasant word, as one performs a

social duty, between two pieces of business. A little amusement, no more:

that was all she was to him ... and to all of them. Jimmy seemed

different. But, still, if he loved her, why hadn't he the courage to tell

her so? And, besides, when all was said, she was sick and tired of men!

Some of them ran after you like dogs; others, damn it, were icicles! A

girl could have Marjutti's figure, Thea's arms, Nancy's legs, Lillian's or

Laurence's face ... and still they would not be satisfied! And thereupon

Lily pursed her brows, asked herself how and why and went to sleep like a

baby.

And the rehearsals continued every day, without respite. Lily became

terrible the nearer she drew to success: her indomitable spirit mounted to

her heart. Jimmy had difficulty in holding her in. She made twenty

flights, thirty flights ... and the twine no longer broke. From that

moment, she was sure of succeeding, always. When you have once succeeded,

even if it be but once, you have no right ever to fail again. She had been

brought up in those principles, had had them rubbed into her skin. She

could not fail now, it was impossible! Even in her flight to the opening

up above! She had learned her "times," she knew how to aim exactly at the

right spot. Jimmy hastened to have the roof arranged for the final exit,

when the aerobike would disappear before the eyes of the audience, in the

star-strewn sky. All that remained was to get everything ready for the

final rehearsal: the complete show, with all lights lit, as for a gala

night. Lily seemed to see it all beforehand. On the day when she realized

that no accident was possible, that it was a trick of which she was

certain, she stifled a cry of triumph in her throat. She was afraid to

believe in it herself, so greatly did it surpass her dreams. She would

have stayed for days on the aerobike to experience the delight of the leap

into space. It seemed to her as though she were becoming a bird and about

to hover in mid-air and leave them all behind her, in the crowd below ...

all, all ... and be a little Lily, flying away on the back-wheel before

their noses.

"You'll make yourself ill," said Jimmy. "Take a rest; there's no need to

tire yourself; you do it as well as I."

For Jimmy, of course, had done the thing too, if only to show Lily;

besides, it was easy for him, who had had so much practice in London and

who knew his machine from end to end. And he appreciated the difficulty

all the more. He admired Lily's incredible pluck, her all-devouring

ambition and that splendid determination to get out of her scrape, to be a

little Lily earning her bread as she knew how, by her work, even if she

had to break her neck in the doing of it! And proud to her finger-tips, in

spite of the dog's life she had led.

"If I had not procured her this delight," thought Jimmy, "I should never

have forgiven myself to the end of my days."

And, from working with her for hours and hours, from holding her by the

waist at the first trials, from feeling that little body quiver under his

hand, from seeing Lily rush at danger, Jimmy became madly in love with her

again ... if he had ever ceased to be so! Ah, if Trampy...! But Lily was

married ... the divorce depended on the husband ... and the husband

wouldn't have it ... at any price: not for a million, he said, by Jove,

would he be separated from a little wife whom he adored!

"Poor Lily!" thought Jimmy sadly. "Will she always be doomed to drag that

dead weight about with her?"

During the intervals for rest, while Lily wiped the perspiration from her

forehead, Jimmy talked to her ... at first, of insignificant things ...

the name "Astrarium," for instance ... a place devoted to planets, to

stars: as a palmarium is to palms. Stars ... that was to say,

bill-toppers: the Three Graces; the Laurences; the Lillians; the

Marjuttis; the Lilies ... yes, the Lilies! Then he pitied her for

belonging to Trampy; and what a good little Lily she would have been if

she had remained with her family!

"But I _am_ a good little Lily!" she said, with a display of childish

vehemence. "What more do you want? We artistes do what we jolly well

please, and we don't care a damn for the rest!" And she had half a mind to

tell him that it was all his fault! "I had to do a silly thing and I did

it," she continued, with an expression of regret on her face. "I married

without love, but lovers, my! I've had, I may say, as many as I wanted ...

from the son of a lord down."

And Lily, to excite him, told him the long array of her love affairs, as

it was told everywhere, on the Bill and Boom Tour, on the Harrasford, on

the Eastern and Western Tours, like the whippings and the rest.

"Yes, I know," replied Jimmy, very coldly.

"What, you don't believe me!" exclaimed Lily. "There were men who would

have left wife and child for me! ... heaps of lovers, tons of them!"

"My poor Lily, having so many is the same as having none at all," added

Jimmy dreamily.

But still he did not declare his love: besides, he had constantly to leave

her, to go and give orders, or climb up on the roof, or look at the

heating-apparatus, below.

Lily watched him go, followed him with a sphinx-like glance, while a vague

smile flickered about her lips....

But she hardly had time to think of all this: the assistants replaced the

bird in its cage, locked the door, opened that leading to the

dressing-room passage and the artistes arrived and took up their places on

their carpets.

Lily had seen it a hundred times, a thousand times, "millions of times!"

She never wearied of it. She spent the day there, among the groups of

bloomers: the Three Graces, bare-armed, went to work, practised the human

cluster; Nunkie kept an eye on his dear nieces and rehearsed the Bambinis,

now that old Martello was keeping his room for good. Lily, who was almost

reduced to eating dry bread, but who remained the fine lady nevertheless,

brought them bags of sweets. Calmed by her work, she sat down in a corner,

laughed, her head thrown back, full-throated, applauded the others with

her thumbnail, shook hands with new-comers, made herself liked by all. And

it was:

"Hullo, girls! Hullo, boys! Dear old Blackpool! What's the news at the

Palace? Who's topping the bill at the Hippodrome?"

Lily, on her rickety chair, made as it were a little center at which the

news was exchanged; to think that, instead of being there, at the top of

the profession, she might have been at Glasgow, some twopenny theater,

where ladies are admitted without shoes or stockings, or playing the darky

at Earl's Court! Yes, but for Jimmy, that's where she would have been! Or

else the Parisienne, in Russia! She, an English girl, my! And Lily

fervently touched her lucky charm: oh, work, work, thank goodness for it!

And Lily rendered homage to work and sprang from her chair to shake hands

with Tom, who had come to see his palace unpacked:

"Good morning, Tom! Welcome!"

This Tom, who now topped the bill everywhere and had a permanent address

and his own scenery: wasn't it wonderful? He was no longer her Pa's old

servant: genius removes all distances; a man is what he makes himself! And

they shook hands warmly, like equals.

Lily, as a sensational bill-topper and a friend of Jimmy's, was always in

great request. She talked nicely, without pose of any kind, like a woman

who is sure of herself and knows things. The Astrarium ... the Astrarium

... what did that mean? They asked Lily:

"It's like ... a palmarium," she explained, "with sunflowers in it, all

sorts of things ... girls ... stars ..."

She described her journeys, storms, gee! Weren't there, Glass-Eye? People

who had never been outside Europe and the States had no idea! Lily talked

of India, Africa, Australia; talked of lions, which stand on their

hind-legs when they're angry, and tigers, which lie down flat; mentioned

stage friendships between elephants and camels and herself in the midst of

it all: "That high!" lowering her hand to six inches from the floor;

talked of animal-training: dogs, cats, sea-lions and that "great, big,

wicked Australian rabbit" which boxed like a man. She was a well-informed

person, was Lily. And a providence for her family also, to listen to her.

When any one brought news of her Pa and the New Trickers, with Daisy as a

statue on her pedestal, one of the successes of the year:

"Yes," Lily replied, in a patronizing tone, "I know. It was my idea. I

gave it to them!"

They thought it very nice of her. She listened with great dignity to what

they said about the New Trickers. They would not be at the Astrarium on

the opening night. They were finishing an engagement on the Bill and Boom

that same evening. They would be in Paris the next day. Mr. Clifton was

reckoning on this appearance for the final triumph of his troupe ... and

he deserved it. What a man, Mr. Clifton, what a man! "Not easy to please,

eh, Lily?" And the inevitable gesture followed. But Lily would have none

of that now, she would not hear her Pa spoken of as a brute! Did they take

her for a performing dog? One was born with the gift or else one remained

all one's life a Daisy or a fat freak! She was proud to have a Pa like

hers. She wasn't a mountebank picked up on the road! Lily had a Pa and a

Ma: a Ma of her own, a Ma whom she was certain about. She bore a

well-known name. She belonged to the "father and son" aristocracy of the

music-hall. She had never needed "that" to make her practice, she an

artiste, brought up like a lady:

"Wasn't I, Glass-Eye? Tom, wasn't I?"

And the jewelry and the sweets her Pa bought her, my! Tons of it! Of

course, he would stand no nonsense about behavior; and Lily made them all

laugh till the tears came about that footy rotter who made love to her in

London, before the time when drink made him look so disgusting, and, when

she loitered in the street with him, Pa, the moment she reached the door,

caught her such a blow that she took all the steps to the basement at one

jump; and there found her Ma waiting for her ... gee!

"And they were quite right, too! And ... do they know that I'm going to

top the bill at the Astrarium?" she asked.

"No, they think you're in Spain or somewhere."

"Somewhere!" said Lily to herself, with a thrill at her heart. "I'll show

them!"

She choked with joy at the idea of the startled look on the faces of Pa

and Ma when they saw her on the aerobike. An exuberant gladness filled her

heart. And that feverish work, those laborers everywhere, the opening in

the roof, the terrace up above, those posters all over Paris and there,

behind the iron door, in the dark, the bird! It was all for her: a theater

for herself! And she felt a need to leap, to laugh, to spread gaiety all

around her; and she rushed about madly with the Bambinis, romped with them

behind the pillars, rolled with them on the floor of her dressing-room,

became once again the Lily who had played truant all around the world,

inventing practical jokes in India and climbing apple-trees in Honolulu.

She crossed the combs and tooth-brushes on the Roofer girls' tables,

rushed into their room when they were undressed, drove the trembling herd

of them distracted, talked of the thousand dangers that awaited them if

they didn't mend their ways, made them fly to their lucky charms to ward

off ill-luck, when she offered them a yellow flower, with great pomp, or

some broken glass in a jewel-box. Then she talked to the Three Graces,

those big girls who always astonished her with their cloistered

existence--Nunkie before everything--and who amused themselves by

measuring one another round the biceps, round the chest, or else, with

their elbows on the table, played at who should first bend back the

other's wrist. Lily sat down for a moment with them, then stopped,

breathless with larking and talking, and went back to her dressing-room:

"I shall have months to spend in here!" she thought.

[Illustration: LILY'S GOLLYWOG]

And, assisted by Glass-Eye, she pinned up bits of stuff, tied a silk bow

to the back of the chair, put up nails for her costumes, laid out on her

table long rows of post-cards, photographs of friends, all dispersed to

the four quarters of the globe, some dead, others done for, all the poor

witnesses of her life. Then she took her black gollywog from her trunk and

kissed it passionately--"Darling! Darling! Darling!"--before hanging it up

on the wall. And along the dressing-room passage and through the window

came the sound of voices ... snatches of homesick tunes: _From Rangoon to

Mandalay_ or _Way down upon the Suwanee River_ ... and "Hullo, Lily!

Hullo, old boy!"... The female-impersonator walked into her room as though

it were his own, sat down on the basket trunk, plunging his green eyes

into hers.

And sometimes Jimmy passed, always at a run: something had gone wrong

somewhere, the heating apparatus, the electric light....

"Hullo, Lily!" And he stopped for a moment, frowned at the sight of the

impersonator. "Always busy?" he asked, seeing Lily, bare-armed, washing

something in her basin.

"Have to be," said Lily. "I always wash my little blouses; we do

everything ourselves, don't we, Glass-Eye? And, when I'm performing, I

have two pairs of tights to wash a day!"

"Two pairs of tights!"

"Why, of course, matinee and night! You have no idea, Jimmy ... the nickel

... when I sit on the handle-bar, it makes a great mark ... just here,

look!"

And she laughed at Jimmy over her shoulder while she pointed to the place

... and then blushed, like a frolicsome child that has been found out and

is, oh, so sorry!

"Every one's got to keep to his own dressing-room!" said Jimmy, feeling

very uncomfortable, to the man with the green eyes. "You can't stay here;

it's against the rules!"

"We're doing no harm, please, Mr. Jimmy," retorted Lily, sitting down

beside the impersonator and slipping her arm round his waist.

"Poor Jimmy!" said the impersonator, when the other had left the room in a

rage. "He's jealous, isn't he, darling?"

"He jealous? Then why doesn't he say so? One can't guess a thing like

that! When you're a man, you speak out!"

And the architect appeared in his turn, he, too, running from one end of

the theater to the other. He wore a bandage over one eye:

"Knocked up against a beam ... a little accident. Have you seen Jimmy?"

"He's over there, I think," replied Lily, without troubling to look at

him.

There was no jealousy about the architect. He stayed for a moment, sniffed

at the scent-bottle, smiled at the photographs on the wall. A green-eyed

impersonator, a blue-eyed impersonator: the room could have been full of

impersonators, for all he cared. Dark girls, yellow girls, fair girls, so

many playthings to distract him from his rules and compasses. He was bored

at once; turned to another at once; and it was all so amusing! He was the

typical lover of the woman of the stage, with his little surface passions.

And very amiable withal, knowing them all, and friendly with them, a great

purveyor of anecdotes:

"The Para-Paras, you know, Lily, committed suicide in their room ... awful

poverty. The wife wasn't ... Tottie enough ... and the husband was

teaching the English accent to continental clowns! Poland? A magnificent

engagement in Russia. Old Martello hasn't three days to live. Oh ... and

Nunkie! There's news among the Three Graces! The troupe's done for this

time!"

And he told how, last night, poor Thea, while mending her uncle's

overcoat, found in the lining an old letter from America ... from some

swain she had had over there ... a letter glowing with love and regret.

Yes, Nunkie knew how to hold his nieces, the architect explained, laughing

... watched them like a Spanish duenna, confiscated the letters that came

for them, if necessary, the old rogue, and calmed their ardors with a few

drops of bromide in a glass of water, every evening, on the pretense of

keeping them from catching cold in the drafts. Oh, the old rogue! And Thea

had almost fainted with grief in her dressing-room when she read the

letter.

"Quite a business, Lily! A scandal in their little home! Very funny, eh?"

he added, as he ogled Lily's pigeon's eggs and rolled a cigarette.

Lily, who had seen poor Thea cry before and who knew to what extent her

lover's treachery had humiliated her, was secretly furious to hear that

josser talk carelessly of things like that: did he imagine, the idiot,

that they weren't built like other people, in the profession, that they

had no feelings? What need had the public to know about their lives? It

was among themselves, quite among themselves, all that!

"Get out of my sight, you damned josser!" said Lily. "Go and eat coke!"

But the other, greatly amused, described his latest discovery, a pearl, in

an out-of-the-way neighborhood ... at Vaugirard fair ... an extraordinary

girl, showing off on a couple of trestles in front of a canvas booth, in

which her man lifted weights to the light of the Argand burners:

"Picture this girl, Lily," said the enthusiastic josser, "picture this

girl on her trestles, doing weights, balancings, all sorts of things. A

body like a boy's, all muscle, and thin: whew! Not _that_ much fat on her,

no hips, arms and shoulders, like Michael Angelo's flayed model. And I

talked to her afterward! And her man gave me a queer look you know ... I

got a blow...."

"Well done!" cried Lily, clapping her hands. "The beam, eh? That'll teach

you to meddle in other people's business! Oh, you don't know those

tenters! One of these days you'll be picked up with your face smashed in,

or shot through the chest with a revolver."

"I say, though," the architect interrupted, "that girl ... I don't know

how we came to speak of you ... she knows you, Lily!"

"That's right! Now I have mountebanks among my acquaintances!" said Lily,

with an air of disgust. "Get out of this, I say!... You wanted Jimmy;

there he is, look!"

And Lily, furious, jerked her head toward the passage.

When Lily went home again she did not even think of what she had just

heard. The death of the Paras; the Graces ... Nunkie, that old rogue!...

She forgot all about it.... She saw only that: the theater, the aerobike,

the theater! Ah! she had it in her blood, in spite of those ugly stories!

Even outside, when, upon Jimmy's advice, she went to take the air in the

parks, under the great blue sky, she regretted the dark stage, the canvas

landscapes of the back-drops; the open-air scenery appeared paltry to her,

beside it. Between her and nature there was always the aerobike! In a few

days ... was it possible? She clenched her little hands over an imaginary

handle-bar, hardened her pigeon's eggs, made pedaling movements, in spite

of herself, on the floor of the tram-car which she very soon took to get

back to the theater again! It was her life, her joy, her suffering, her

good and evil ... it was her field, her very own field, the field which

she had sown with sweat that she might reap fame and glory.

And, when she returned, she reveled in that smell of hot glue and tar and

scent; oh, it was much nicer than the country! And more interesting, too:

all the little drama that was being enacted among the Graces, for

instance; Nunkie had lost his wonderful reputation, he was surrounded with

less reverence; the story of the confiscated letters was beginning its

round of the world. It was all very well for him to spoil his dear girls,

to double his attentions, to treble the doses of bromide; there was no

doubt about it, the troupe's days were numbered. The boy-violinist and

others were making love to the Three Graces, fresh troupes were being

formed, three more, any number! And they all talked freely, turned their

backs without hesitation upon Nunkie, who was prowling round:

"Well?" he asked. "What's the mystery?"

"We were discussing marriage, Nunkie," the Graces answered.

"That's right, my children," he replied, with a sigh.

Lily, in all these plots and counter-plots, knew how to remain neuter and

to be very nice to everybody; she had been trained from childhood to keep

her opinions to herself; none of her damned business, all that; something

that might have been foreseen and expected ... like the death of old

Martello, which Jimmy told her of.... Yes, the old man had flickered out

in his bed just like that....

But she needed all her composure, indeed, when Jimmy told her that those

dear little Bambinis ... ah, there was bad news for them, the poor loves!

"What? What?" asked Lily.

"Well, we are going to lose them; they've been claimed by their brother,

it seems."

"What!" cried Lily. "Their brother? The ... the Mexican one?"

"Yes, I think so," said Jimmy. "He's come back from South America. He is

in Paris now ... somewhere in a penny show, in the suburbs ... I don't

know where ... with a girl."

"With a girl!" thought Lily.

Everything returned to her in a flash! The girl with the bruised skin ...

that boy's body all muscle ... Ave Maria! Ave Maria! Not dead! She felt

inclined to run up to Trampy, to fly at his throat, to bellow in his face

that Ave Maria was here, just to see the effect! But she restrained

herself. Suppose it were not true? Oh, she would soon know! That footy

rotter, if it were true! O God, grant that it might be true!

All this passed through her brain in less than a second.

"Why!" said Jimmy, seeing her turn pale. "Does that affect you so much ...

the loss of your little friends, the Bambinis? For you're going to lose

them...."

"No, Jimmy!" she replied indignantly. "You shall not give up the Bambinis

to their brother, a cruel, cowardly brute like that, right at the bottom

of the profession. I know ... I've seen.... You shan't do it, Jimmy, and,

look here, I forbid you!"

"Well, Lily, Lily, I'll do what I can, to please you, you know; I'll try;

I'll see the police; you must give your evidence, if you have anything to

say. Do you know, Lily, you are as good as gold. You're a good little

Lily: hard upon herself and kind to others."

But he was interrupted ... Jimmy here, Jimmy there ... he was wanted ...

for the flies, for the roof.... Jimmy flew to the stage, bothered on every

side, worried by the Astrarium ... and Lily. Lily! He could not escape her

now, do what he might! He had her in his heart, in his brain, everywhere.

She lived and existed in his breast, shot up there like a flame! Whatever

he had been told about her he no longer knew, did not want to know. And,

besides, even if it had been true, oh, he would have forgiven everything!

He would have passed over everything! He would have plunged into the abyss

to get Lily out of it, whatever she had done; yes! In spite of everything!

in spite of everybody! In spite of Trampy, husband or not!

CHAPTER III

To-morrow was to be the great day, the opening of the Astrarium, the first

night; and Jimmy, more bustled than ever, forgot Lily ... almost ... on

that evening, especially, the evening of the dress-rehearsal: not an

ordinary rehearsal, with the band-parts handed to the conductor across the

footlights--"A march here, please, a waltz there. 'K you"--no, the whole

show, with orchestra and all complete; the stage flooded with light; each

turn in its own setting: corridor, wood, room, palace. Jimmy multiplied

himself in the final fever. The theater, arranged according to his ideas,

was still encumbered with ladders and scaffoldings; but gangs of laborers

were hard at work on every side. The obstructions all disappeared like

magic, were juggled away. Jimmy had made sure that the roof was ready; he

had run from the landing-point, out of sight of the audience, through the

door contrived in the wall of the stage, crossed the fly-galleries, come

down by the pulley-rope; the whole thing, from roof to stage, had taken

him, watch in hand, thirty seconds. And Lily had done it also. It formed

part of the turn, a sensational addition to the aerobike. All would be

ready, all would go well, provided that Lily was not nervous that evening

... and to-morrow especially! Those confounded crazy little girls! Crazy

every one of them: Laurence herself, the bravest of the lot, had just had

an awful fall, at Boston, in her excitement at losing her lucky charm. It

was the event in the profession, the accident of the day. Lily might be

frightened by it. Now it was essential that she should succeed and succeed

at the first attempt. His fortune and hers, his future, the success of the

Astrarium depended on it. And Jimmy, obsessed by his labors, had hardly

time to think of Trampy, in the formidable effort of the eleventh hour.

And yet, sometimes, he felt a pain at his heart. That adorable Lily! Would

he succeed in making her love him? And now there was that impersonator!

Oh, to work, to work! And he went at it, hammer and tongs, to make sure of

the aerobike's success. To make them talk of him ... to achieve fame ...

which was as sweet as love! And he was wanted from one end of the theater

to the other. Oh, he might well look upon the Astrarium as his creation!

Already, a few days before, rumors of a strike were current. The managers

were boycotted by the artistes, in England.... Jimmy feared lest the

Astrarium should feel the consequences, under the pressure of the

Performers' Association, but he had arranged everything, seen each artiste

separately, explained his plans: gala matinees, creation of an asylum, a

home of rest ... a glory to help in such a task ... who could tell but

that they were working for themselves by adding their stone to the

edifice? He quoted the Para-Paras and their wretched end; old Martello,

dead without leaving a penny; the Bambinis, homeless; Ave Maria,

unprotected. The men listened, with serious faces. As for the girls, his

words came straight from the heart. Those decent girls, who earned their

living as they knew how and the living of others besides, they understood

him at once; and Lily no longer laughed; on the contrary:

"Me? Whatever you like! For nothing, if you like; rely on me, Jimmy!"

And now the hour had come; they were to appear under the critical eye of

Harrasford. The acting-manager had arrived from England that same day with

the stage-manager, who was "behind." It made a strange impression, that

huge red-and-gold house, glittering with light and sounding curiously

empty to the thunder of the band. Everybody was at his post: the tall

flunkeys stood motionless at the entrance-doors, in the promenades, as if

the audience had been there, whereas there was practically nobody except

Harrasford and the manager. And on the stage, which had been cleared of

every superfluous piece of property, splendid order reigned: the

scene-shifters, up above, had their hands on the windlasses; the two

electricians, on their perches, turned the lime-light where it was to

fall; the drops rose and fell without a hitch; the scenes slipped into

their places, shifted, in the English fashion, by one man. For each turn

on the stage, the next was ready to come on, no more; all the rest were in

the dressing-rooms. But there, behind the iron curtain, one could picture

staircases crowded with people running up and down, passages full of

light, a flurried ant-hill, and feel that a ring of bells would be enough

to bring tumbling on to the stage a whole glittering, grotesque or radiant

world of people, from the monkey-faced comedian to Lily, in her pink

tights, an image of Venus. There was electricity in the air of that empty

house, in which all felt the presence of the powerful master, harder to

please than a crowd! And rays of light ran along the stage, the back-drop

seemed a cloud ready to split in the crash of the thunder, under the storm

of the raging brasses. On the stage, the turns defiled in their order,

under the shimmering lights: the Bambinis, brother and sister, supple

grace and strength combined, filled the huge space with the free play of

their rosy bodies and the brightness of their genuine gaiety. The Three

Graces formed the human cluster, a hanging group of faces, figures,

shoulders and glorious lines. The program poured out laughter, harmony,

beauty, till, against the blue forest, came the scarlet step-dances of the

Roofers. And then silence: the feature of the evening, the aerobike! There

was a moment's anxiety. A net was stretched above the stalls, from the

footlights to the opening in the roof. For the audience, at any rate, all

danger was removed, even in case of a fall. Then the glass dome above

opened, and the curtain rose on the Elysian glimmer of a scene studded

with stars; and everything was empty, stage and auditorium. The distance

seemed immense: "miles and miles!" The machine was to start out suddenly,

rush through space, disappear up above, like a meteor that shoots out from

infinity and returns to it.

A few seconds passed, during which Jimmy gave Lily her last instructions:

"You're not afraid, Lily? Would you like me to do it?"

Afraid! She turned her calm face to him. Oh, she could have accomplished

impossible and cruel things, braved torture, walked on burning coals! She

felt herself made of supple steel, unerring and exact:

"Up, quick, quick! Ready, Jimmy?"

"Ready!"

"Then ... GO!"

The aerobike flashed like an arrow from the bow, raised itself with a

magnificent jerk; the propeller hummed like a thunder-bolt, the wings

rustled in flight, pointed toward the opening, went up ... up ... up ...

disappeared in the star-strewn sky.... It was done! The band struck up the

triumphal march, Harrasford, the manager, the few who were present all

burst into cheers; and, suddenly, over the house plunged in darkness, from

the back of the stage, came a burst of light. Lily, after running over the

roof and sliding down the pulley, was descending against the blue

back-drop, bringing with her the star! First, one saw the light breaking,

then swelling and increasing in brilliancy, and Lily appeared, a starry

Eve, holding, in her upraised hand, a dazzling luminary, a crystal globe,

which an invisible wire from behind filled with an intensity of light. And

powerful rays shot to every side, end-of-the-world coruscations, above the

crater of the orchestra.

"Splendid!" cried Harrasford. "That dishes the waterspouts at the

Hippodrome, the avalanches, everything!" And, as Jimmy came up, "Good boy,

Jimmy!" he said, catching him a great smack on the shoulder by way of a

compliment. "And your girl ... your ... Maggy ... your ... what's her

name? Lily ... glorious! Very good indeed! Couldn't be better! Capital

idea!"

He gave a quick glance at his watch, a few words to Jimmy, to the manager,

over his shoulder, on the wing:

"All the boxes booked three weeks ahead? All the stalls? That's right!

Good-by, good luck!"

Already his broad back was disappearing through the door; had to catch the

midnight train for Cologne; presence indispensable.

"Telephone to-morrow; let me know how things go. Ta-ta!"

And Harrasford was far away.

And Lily? Lily was in her dressing-room, stupefied with delight. How soon

it was done! How simple it was! Jimmy, after all, with his scrawls and his

scribbles, with his brain-work: what a discovery he had made! She would

have liked it to last for ever, the flight on the aerobike; she still

seemed to be rushing up to the stars, to feel the coolness of the night on

her face. How funny it was, going up, up, up and out through that hole.

She was still laughing at it, with little convulsive movements of the

shoulders, and stammering out things.

When she was dressed, she received Jimmy's congratulations and

everybody's. They gave her a bouquet:

"To our little favorite!"

She answered, without knowing what she said; went home. Everything seemed

to be turning round and round. She ate a few mouthfuls, washed down with a

glass of milk; and then, suddenly, made a rush for Glass-Eye! A pillow

fight followed:

"Here, take that! Take that! And that! And that!"

Ten minutes of an epic struggle, on the bed thrown into confusion and

disorder, as after a murder; huge slaps on the firm, rounded forms; virile

smackings; and Glass-Eye, breathlessly, had to own herself beaten, to beg

for mercy.

"That'll teach them!" cried Lily, falling on the bed, panting, drunk with

joy, drunk with joy! Trampy, Mexico, Ma's insults, the jealousies, the

grudges, Daisy, the fat freaks: pooh, none of that existed for her!

Nothing remained but herself, drunk with an immense joy! She was almost

delirious, in the excess of her great happiness:

"I'll smash up their damned troupes, do you hear, Glass-Eye? There! Like

that!" And she tried to renew the fight, but her strength failed her.

"Dished and done for, their damned troupes!"

And she laughed, she burst with laughing, when she thought of their

eighteen feet of stage:

"Stages as big as my hand, Glass-Eye, is what they've got to turn in!"

Whereas, she went straight up in the air, up to the stars, miles high, up

above everything! Bang! A smack for Glass-Eye, who was just taking off her

skirt!

"And I say, Glass-Eye! Ma, who said that I ... you know what she said! But

wait till they see me in my grand dresses! I'll order them to-morrow; and

my hats too. And I'll invite Pa and Ma to the hotel! And we'll drink

champagne and I'll have fifty francs' worth of flowers on the table, just

to show them! 'Our Lily,' that's what I'm going to be, 'our own Lily,'

damn it!"

Lily, when she was in bed, turned things over and over in her brain. Yes,

her Pa was quite right. It was for her good, for her own good! Big

salaries, which would all belong to her! And no more performing-dog

toques, but big hats and feathers and motor-cars and furs, but no goggles!

No, she must find something that wouldn't hide her face, so that people

would recognize her and say:

"That's Lily!"

And the road behind her motor would be strewn with the bodies of pros who

had died of jealousy!

And she would consult Pa and Ma on the color of her liveries, on her

crest: a wheel, with wings to it! And Lily dropped off into a sleep

interrupted by awful nightmares, in which Ma was dead--poor Ma!--before

witnessing her triumph--and in which elephants trumpeted in her honor and

sea-lions applauded her with their finny fore-paws, all along a queer sort

of Tottenham Court Road, paved with fat freaks, at the end of which a

Horse Shoe, as big as the Marble Arch, opened out upon the stars.

Poor Glass-Eye, on her side, had the most outlandish dreams. Her brain was

turned from living in the midst of all that. She dreamed that she was

flying, too; that she was Lily in her turn; that she was soaring over

Whitechapel; but, from time to time, a nervous kick from Lily recalled her

to the realities of life.

* * * * *

"Glass-Eye! There's a knock at the door, I think. Or else I'm dreaming.

What's the time? Ten o'clock. Get up, Glass-Eye! If it's the landlady,

tell her I'll pay her next week!"

But Glass-Eye, who had gone to the door, shut it suddenly and came back to

Lily, looking quite startled:

"Miss Lily, there's some one, all in black, on the stairs; a ghost!"

"If you're trying to frighten me," cried Lily, jumping out of bed, "I'll

knock your other eye out! Take care!"

She was choking with excitement. Lily was afraid of nothing. But those

confounded ghosts: poor Ma, perhaps! And she quickly separated two fingers

wide behind her back, so as to be on the safe side and ward off ill-luck:

"Come with me, Glass-Eye; you go first!"

And Lily, in her night-dress, half-opened the door, looked out.

A thin woman, all in black, stood motionless. It was not Ma. Lily breathed

more freely:

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want to speak to Miss Lily," said the woman in black. "I went to the

theater and they gave me your address. I came.... I suppose you don't

remember me, it's so long ago. Ave Maria, on the wire in Mexico?"

"Ave Maria! Come in," said Lily.

Ave Maria, whom she had sought for so long. She would know at last! Oh, if

it were true! God grant that it might be true! Lily, hardly recovered from

her fright, quivered at the thought. And she devoured Ave Maria with her

eyes. She recognized her, now that she knew: it was she indeed, but grown

old before her time, looking wretched, thin, hollow-eyed, a face all skin

and bone. And the two stood contemplating each other in silence.

"How pretty you've grown!" whispered Ave Maria timidly. "No one would take

you for a professional."

But a sudden fit of coughing brought scarlet patches to her pale cheeks.

"It catches me here," she said, pressing her hand to her chest. "It's

damp, sometimes, in the tent. And then half-naked on those trestles. The

work warms one, it's true. The other night I saw some one who knew you, a

gentleman. I should have liked to ask him more, but my brother struck him

in the face. I got my turn after. However, I wanted to see you. I went to

the Astrarium. I asked them."

"Go on," said Lily, who was burning to know, but did not want to show it.

"Glass-Eye, give me my dressing-gown. Go on, please!"

"I don't know that I dare," said Ave Maria, "now that I have seen you. You

are so much better-looking than I am. Are you still living with him?" she

asked, in a low voice, fixing two fiery eyes on Lily.

"No," said Lily, "I am living with nobody!"

"But they told me. I heard at Buenos Ayres ... the story of the whippings,

your running away with him...."

"What whippings? And I'm living with nobody!" retorted Lily, very

haughtily.

"But you have lived with him ... in Germany ... Trampy, you know."

"No," said Lily, "I was married, wasn't I, Glass-Eye?"

"But _I'm_ married to him!" Ave Maria broke in, more aggressively than

before.

"Oh, if it were true!" thought Lily. "Oh, if it were true!"

She dared not believe it, it would have been too beautiful, beautiful

beyond dreams. And, with her nerves stretching to breaking-point:

"Prove it!" she said coldly, to Ave Maria.

"Yes, I have my proofs," replied Ave Maria, shaken with a furious cough.

"And I'll show them! Trampy belongs to me, not to you! He's in Paris, they

tell me.... And I mean to have him, do you hear? I've suffered enough and

to spare. I've done everything since he left me. Look here, at Caracas

people used to offer me twopence to let them black my eye, sometimes, when

my brother was locked up at the police-station. And there were the

one-horse circuses where we slept in a heap on the straw, in Chili or some

such country. And, sometimes, I lost my balance on the wire, because of my

cough. And my brother: you know him! And the cattle-men, when they're

drunk! One of them stabbed me here, with a knife, there, here, in the

breast; they had to cut it off--the breast--later, at Montevideo, because

of the gangrene. Yes, he stabbed me with a knife, because I wouldn't say,

'I love you,' to him! Fancy my saying, 'I love you,' to any one but

Trampy! Never! I would have let them jump on my chest with their hobnailed

boots first! And, now that Trampy's here, I want him! He belongs to me and

I mean to have him."

"Well, take him, if he belongs to you!" said Lily. "I don't care a hang

for your Trampy; I've turned him out long ago!"

"So ... it's true? If he's no longer with you, I can have him again. I

shall have him! I'll have my brother locked up, if necessary, to be free!

I have only to say a word, not because of the story of that nose which he

bit off at Rio: no, the other day, at Vaugirard, he used the knife. I'll

tell everything, to have my Trampy back."

And her rough voice became gentle now, in her Anglo-Italian jargon, with a

dash of Spanish in it; everything became clear, everything yielded before

the violence of that fierce love. Lily was astounded to hear it:

"That's what I call love!" she thought. "I had no idea, my! And all for

Trampy! It's worse than in the novels."

And she was touched, in spite of herself, and, when Ave Maria cried, "Oh,

how happy you must be, if he loves you!" Lily dared not protest that she

didn't care a hang for that soaker, for fear of hurting the poor martyr.

She replied, on the contrary, that Trampy was very nice, but that he was

hers no longer, that he belonged to Ave Maria, since Ave Maria had the

proofs ... _if_ she had the proofs.

"I have them here, Miss Lily, my marriage-lines. I was able to get them,

after he went. I had the certificate witnessed. My brother, when he came

to fetch me, never knew about it. I sewed it into the lining of a

portmanteau; no chance of losing it: here it is."

And she produced a yellow document from her bodice and laid it on the

table.

Lily seized upon it ... read it at a glance ... it was quite regular! Oh,

the footy rotter! Two wives! To say nothing of his thirty-six girls! And

what a fine trick she would play him! At last, she was about to get rid of

her festering sore! She could not breathe for happiness. And, as Ave Maria

was watching her movements, lest she should keep the paper, Lily handed it

back to her, certain that it was in good hands, that it would not be

lost.

Then and there an idea came to her. Trampy would be at the theater that

afternoon with Tom, who, knowing little about all these stories,

interested only in the condition of those biceps of his, had taken Trampy

as his assistant and had told Lily so. And Lily had said nothing,

reserving to herself the right to have him turned off the stage by Jimmy,

with a smack in the eye, before everybody: the footy rotter, coming there

to defy her! Well, there would be no smack in the eye; she would simply

hand him over to Ave Maria, as one flings a lump of carrion to a tigress!

"Wait a bit, you faithful husband!" she growled. "You'll see, presently!"

And, first of all, when Ave Maria rose to go, Lily forbade her to do

anything of the kind, for fear that the brother, who must be out looking

for her, might drag her back to the booth at the fair and then take the

first train to some other place, after getting hold of the Bambinis. And

Lily meant none of all this to take place; she would rather go to the

police and have the brute arrested!

"Stay here, Ave Maria," she said. "I'll give you back your Trampy this

afternoon."

Oh, if she had been alone, how she would have flown at Glass-Eye, to work

off her superabundant joy! It would have been a merciless fight, with

slaps in the Mexican style! But a lady receiving her friends must set a

good example. She contented herself with hustling Glass-Eye by word and

gesture:

"My new dress! My big hat!"

Ave Maria, quite taken up with the excitement of seeing Trampy again, of

having him back again, left herself in Lily's hands. She felt as if she

were looking at a princess, when Lily made Glass-Eye spin round the room.

She could not even help smiling when she saw Glass-Eye catch her foot in

the dresses spread out on the floor, so much so that Lily asked her

angrily if she meant to go on hopping about like that for ever, if she

really wanted to have a candle lit in her glass eye to make her see that

bodice, there, right in front of her nose, damn it! And Glass-Eye's

fright, when she heard that ... though Glass-Eye was never surprised at

anything that Lily said or did!

Going to the Astrarium, Lily, followed by Glass-Eye, walked along the

street with her cheeky feather waving like a flag in battle. Ave Maria, by

her side, kept close to the wall, with frightened glances to right and

left; Lily did not call her attention to the Astrarium posters for fear of

humiliating her: she would have had to explain that she was topping the

bill and poor Ave Maria, who was starring at the fair, would never have

understood. A professional abyss separated the two of them. Lily saw this

and had too kind a heart to let the other feel it. What a difference

between them! Merely in the way in which Lily entered the theater and

smiled to the stage-doorkeeper! Ave Maria followed very timidly, like a

beggar-woman stealing into a palace. She felt out of her element in those

big theaters, where she had not appeared for ever so long, having come

down to the level of one-horse circuses, patched canvas tents, acrobatic

performances in the open air, on the slack-wire stretched from tree to

tree. Lily looked a princess beside her, really. Ave Maria was even

surprised to see her address a gentleman who was there: it was the

architect, with a bandage over his eye. Ave Maria recognized him; and he,

rendered prudent by the blow which he had received from "her man," stepped

back instinctively at the sight of her. But Lily caught him by the lapel

of his coat:

"You've been fooling me ... with your measurements," she said, "and there

are certain things that jossers oughtn't to meddle with; and it serves you

right, that black eye of yours; but I forgive you, because of the immense

service you're doing me ... without knowing it ... you lover of

second-rate goods!" she muttered, as she watched him slink off, taking her

forgiveness with him.

The stage was almost empty. Tom had come, not Trampy; so much the better,

there would be all the more there presently, for the great scene!

"Wait for me a minute," she said to Ave Maria. "Sit down over there, in

the corner."

And Lily went up to her dressing-room; she wanted to look her best, to

bedizen herself ... a little red on her lips, a little blue on her eyelids

... to make Trampy regret the more what he was going to lose. And, when

she was ready, Jimmy passed and, icicle though he was, could not help

paying her a compliment on her good looks. He appeared quite

disconcerted:

"Just imagine, Lily. What do you think happened to me, in the

impersonator's dressing-room? I had something to say to him ... I walk in

... see the impersonator half undressed ... and it's a woman, Lily, a

magnificent woman! You never told me, you kiddie!"

"Hush!" said Lily. "Don't give her away; it's a secret, it's her living,

Jimmy."

"Don't be afraid, Lily, I won't prevent any one from earning her living,

as long as she does all right on the stage. But I don't know where I am

now. That woman who came in with you, for instance," continued Jimmy

jestingly, "she looks just like a man; there's no knowing; nothing would

surprise me after that!"

"She's a woman, Jimmy, a married woman! You'll see presently. We'll have a

good laugh; mind you're there! I want everybody to be there! It's a

surprise, Jimmy!"

What a kiddie she was, thought Jimmy, as he went down the stairs. The

architect, the impersonator: the two scandals of her life. That

impersonator whom she kissed in front of him, a story that had gone round

the world, Lily's love affairs, one more ready to leave wife and children

for her sake: the exaggeration of the stage, always; professional

boasting. Like the story of the whippings, like those girls whom she had

described to him, and herself, with all over her skin--"Here, here, damn

it!"--wounds that you could put your finger into. Or like those who were

said to be done for, or burned alive, or drowned in shipwrecks, with waves

miles high, all for the honor of the profession; when, perhaps, it was

simply as good a way as another of retiring from the stage, to get

married, with a flourish of trumpets! It wasn't true, all that, or their

parade of vice either, all humbug, from end to end, their amorous

conquests, their orgies, their escapades, like their ostrich-feathers,

that long, or their sham diamonds, that big, and bouquets large enough to

fill a cab. But they were decent-hearted girls, all the same: that Lily,

what a kiddie, thought Jimmy, feeling quite comforted, quite glad on her

account.

And just then, as luck would have it, he met Tom, to whom Glass-Eye had

brought Miss Lily's album, with a request for his autograph. Tom, whose

formidable muscles were hardly capable of wielding a pen, especially to

write "thoughts," was holding the album with a sheepish look, turning it

round and round:

"I say," he said, as Jimmy passed, "write something; for me!"

"All right!" said Jimmy.

And he lightly turned the pages of the album, the famous album, said to be

crammed with passionate declarations. Not a bit of it! Nothing but foolery

and childish nonsense:

"May joy and pleasure be your lot

. . . trot, trot, trot!"

"... Regard me as a link.

Loving Pal."

"_Un afetuoso saludo y un augurio de feliz viaje le desea Pedro y

Paolo_."

"Hoping we shall meet again, if not here, there.

"Joe Brooks."

"_Puedo decir que nunca he visto yoo ... tan cuida y bella_...."

There was page upon page, in this style, with, here and there, a rough

sketch: a heart pierced by an arrow, signed, "Castaigne;" a dried

shamrock: "Blarney Castle;" a bit of seaweed: "Dundee." Jimmy smiled to

himself and especially at what he heard beside him, where Glass-Eye, while

gazing wide-eyed at Tom's immense arms, was telling him all her troubles:

quite mad, Miss Lily, ought to be locked up! And _she_ ought to know:

never left her side since she began traveling by herself, day or night.

"You're a lucky one, you are!" Tom broke in.

"I should like to see you try it, just!" Glass-Eye retorted. "And meantime

I get more smacks than halfpence. Oh, I know she'll pay me all in a lump,

when she gets it! She's very generous, really. And her Pa and Ma ... yes

... do you know what she means to do? She's not angry with them any

longer. She's going to stuff them with turkey and pudding at the hotel and

stand them fifty francs' worth of flowers. She's forgiven them!"

"That's more than I have!" replied Tom. "Her Pa will know what I am made

of to-morrow, the brute! He'll have one on the mug, for boxing my ears and

kicking me out ... you know ... because of the letters from Trampy."

"If you do that, Tom, you'll have Miss Lily to reckon with! What! You're

laughing!" cried Glass-Eye angrily. "You don't know how it hurts ... on

one's bones! And those pillow-fights: I've had my nose smashed in one of

them before now! Nothing surprises me that Miss Lily says or does. Why,

this very morning, she wanted to put a lighted candle in my glass eye!"

"Eh, what? A light in your eye?" exclaimed Tom suddenly. "I wonder if one

really could ... I say, Jimmy, could one?"

"Yes," said Jimmy, greatly amused, "with an invisible wire under the

dress...."

"Hurrah!" cried Tom. "Would you like two shillings a day, Glass-Eye? And

your food and clothes? You shall travel with me; you shall appear on the

stage. Come along to the cafe, we'll sign the engagement!"

"But what will Miss Lily say?" objected Glass-Eye, trembling at the idea

of announcing her departure to her terrible mistress.

"Well," said Tom, "I'll be nice to her Pa, if she's nice to you. Come

along!"

"But I don't know how to sign my name."

"You can make your mark, before two witnesses. Come along!"

Glass-Eye, dazzled and beglamored, followed Tom. She, an artiste! On the

stage! At last! Going round the world with Tom ... living with him ...

married ... almost!

"That's come in the nick of time!" said Jimmy, as he watched her go off

the stage. "Lily, perhaps ... in her new position ... will want a real

maid, not a Glass-Eye! Lily ... why, she's perfection! To think of the

abysses she has walked along without falling! There's more merit than one

thinks in that kind of life. And how I should like to get hold of the

people who talk ill of her. And that ... that ... oh, that one!"

And Jimmy clenched his fists, at the thought of Trampy, and his heart

burst forth: all his patient, brave, manly heart, now well nigh

exhausted.

CHAPTER IV

Poor Ave Maria, indifferent to what was going on before her, was still

waiting on the stage. For that matter, it was but a few minutes since Lily

brought her there. Ave Maria felt inclined to go and meet Trampy on the

pavement, to throw her arms round his neck as soon as he appeared. But

Lily had earnestly recommended her not to move, whatever happened. So she

remained in her corner and, under the pale light, with her back to the

forest scene, in the shadow, Ave Maria looked like a lurking she-wolf,

ready to leap out at any moment.

[Illustration: AVE MARIA]

As for Lily, she tripped down the stairs to the stage, for a few seconds

contemplated all those bill-toppers at her feet, so to speak; but she took

the last stairs at a bound: Trampy had just entered! Ave Maria, in her

corner, behind the pillars and the confused heap of scenery, could not see

him. Lily preferred that. She would manage everything her own way and get

rid of him once and for all ... get rid of that footy rotter who had come

there to jeer at her. He stepped along, with his hat on one side and a

dead cigar between his teeth. Trampy, broken, diseased, done for, was

jubilant for all that; turned his broad smile from girl to girl, winked

his eye gaily at the Roofers, who drew back in disgust, and, with

outstretched hand:

"How d'you do, Lily? How's my dear little wife?"

He enjoyed the humiliation which he was inflicting upon her, would have

liked his clothes to be still shabbier, his shoes more down at heel, so

that he might thoroughly disgrace his dear little wife--that great

bill-topper, who was leaving the pink of husbands in such a state of

destitution. And he threw out his chest, increased his familiarities, and

even pretended to kiss her, pushed his blotched and pimpled mug close to

that charming face. Jimmy gave a bound: Trampy! On the stage! Lily's

tormentor! Jimmy, pale with fury, walked up to him, stiff-armed, ready to

break the jaw of that thief in the night and chuck him into the street,

without more words! But Lily stopped him with a quick gesture:

"Why, Jimmy," she said, "would you keep a man from earning his living? Do

you find fault with a husband for loving his little wife? I am your little

wife, am I not?" she continued, tantalizing Trampy with her peach-like

cheek, tickling his nose with her fair curls. "Don't you deserve a dear

little wife?"

"Why, of course I do!" Trampy agreed, surprised, all the same, at this

loving reception from his dear little wife.

"There!" cried Lily, unable to restrain herself any longer and giving him

a box on the ears. "That'll teach you to call me your little wife, you

damned tramp cyclist! I've never been your little wife. I'll show you your

little wife, the real one. Come along, Ave Maria! Here's Trampy!"

"Eh, what?" said Trampy, turning color. "Ave Maria? I don't know any Ave

Maria."

But already Ave Maria was upon him, pressing him in her arms: her Trampy!

And her cough brought pink-red patches to her hectic cheeks.

"What's this mean? I don't know you," he stammered, gazing horror-stricken

at this old, lean woman, who was taking possession of him before

everybody, taking possession of him who cared only for plump little

things, sultan that he was. "I don't know her, I don't know her!"

"Here!" cried Lily, snatching the paper from Ave Maria's bodice. "Do you

know that? Can you read? Now will you deny that she's your wife ... your

wife ... your wife?" she repeated, rejoicing in being able to hurl the

word to Trampy, who turned pale with fright.

"We'll try and arrange it," whispered Jimmy, still hardly recovered from

his surprise. "A divorce in Lily's favor first! She'll dictate your answer

for you; you've only got to say yes to everything. And then you can be off

somewhere; to West Australia. I'll pay your expenses. And don't you ever

dare to show your face again! Never! Do you understand?"

"And that'll teach you to make little of people!" cried Lily. "Let's drink

to the health of Trampy, the faithful husband! I'll stand champagne all

round to the health of good old Trampy and his dear little wife!"

But, without waiting for the champagne, already Ave Maria was dragging

Trampy to the door and the Roofer girls gave him a triumphal exit. They

sent him to Halifax, they sent him to Coventry. They flourished things at

his head, amid an uproar of jolly hootings, and took aim at him--"Ping!

Ping!"--and pinched him, as the Merry Wives did Falstaff in Windsor

Forest. And they slipped off their shoes in honor of his wedding, by Jove!

And Trampy fled under a shower of boots and slippers, fled like mad, as

though the devil were after him.

Jimmy did not know if he was on his head or his heels for joy:

"I'll stand the champagne!" he said. "To Miss Lily's health!"

So much had happened in those few minutes: Lily free again ... and no

scandal ... the divorce assured ... Trampy admitting his misdeeds,

inventing them, if necessary, confessing anything they asked him to, as

long as they did not mention bigamy.... Jimmy, had it been possible, would

have offered a general picnic to the whole company. He, usually so calm,

felt inclined to sing, to laugh. Never would he have dared to hope.... And

it had all come so simply, like the things that are bound to happen. Lily

was free!

"Bring the bottles up here," he said to the call-boy, "and biscuits and

cakes. We'll drink it here! We'll christen the stage, as if we were

launching a ship ... in champagne, here, by ourselves! among ourselves!

Here's to the stage-manager! Here's to all of us!"

Lily, happy as happy could be, shook everybody by the hand, distributed a

"'K you" here and a "'K you" there. She would have liked to have Glass-Eye

by her side, to keep her in countenance, open her bag, give her her

handkerchief ... liked to be a little lady who can't do without her maid

... but, damn it, where was Glass-Eye? And Lily clenched her fist when she

saw her return with cakes in her hands, escorted by Tom, who helped to

carry the champagne.

"Where have you been, Glass-Eye?" asked Lily severely. "What have you been

doing with Tom? Give me my handkerchief, Glass-Eye."

"Here's your bag, Miss Lily," said Glass-Eye excitedly. "I'm going to

leave you, Miss Lily."

"What for?" said Lily, feeling vexed. "Because I owe you a few little

things?"

"Oh, no, not that! I'm going to be a star, too; on my hands: Demon Maud,

the lady with the flaming eye; a candle in my glass eye ... before two

witnesses ... I made my mark at the bottom."

"She's drunk!" cried Lily, utterly dumfounded. "Or else she's going mad.

Jimmy! Tom! Glass-Eye's going mad!"

But, when Tom had explained, Lily approved. Glass-Eye wasn't stupid,

really; very intelligent, though you'd never think it. Glad to see her

engaged.... And she shook her by the hand, like an old friend and comrade,

glad to hear of the success of others ... among artistes....

And, suddenly, with head thrown back, full-throated, her feather nodding

hysterically on her head, Lily laughed ... laughed ... laughed!

Maud an artiste! On her hands! A candle in her eye! One fat freak the more

on the stage! Gee, they must drink to Glass-Eye's health: Glass-Eye, the

bill-topper!

They were all laughing now, filling their glasses at a table in the middle

of the stage, eating cakes, amusing themselves with the corks, which went

pop, like toy guns, and applauding with their thumb-nails. To the

Astrarium! And long live jollity! That night, they would one and all risk

their skins. They were like soldiers drinking to their sweethearts, in the

trenches, before the battle. And everything promised well; already a

legend was forming among the painted faces: the booking office besieged;

ladies and gentlemen in motors; motors in a row, miles and miles of

motors; the street bursting with people who had come to book seats! And

champagne on the stage, cakes, my, for the asking! An orgy which would

start its trip around the world to-morrow, with those few bottles

transformed into a Niagara of champagne, enough to flood every greenroom

from the Klondike to Calcutta!

They all enjoyed themselves and let themselves go. And the Roofers, who

worshiped Lily, in spite of her abominable tricks, raised their glasses to

her health, crowded round her, smiled merrily at her with their white

teeth, congratulated her for sending that footy rotter packing:

"Here's to Miss Lily! And a round on the thumbnail in honor of Miss

Lily!"

This christening of the Astrarium was turning into a triumph for her; and

there was the evening to come ... the evening! It made her forget Trampy,

Jimmy, Glass-Eye, everybody. And ... the next day ... her Pa, her Ma, the

New Trickers would be at her feet! Oh, she would give ten years of her

life if to-morrow could be there now!

And the evening came. Lily did not leave the theater. She walked nervously

from her dressing-room to the stage, inspected the final operations,

interested herself in everything, stopped the boy-violinist, who was

crossing the stage with the other members of the band, congratulated him

on his approaching marriage with one of the Graces. She talked to the

artistes going up to their dressing-rooms, bestowed a smile upon Jimmy,

another on the stage-manager, joked with the limelight-men working their

apparatus on either side of the stage. The footlights lit up with a row of

flames, the storm approached. There was a ringing of electric

bells--"Ting! Ting! Ting!"--as in the machine-room of a ship before the

tempest; the orchestra roared; and, as though at a thunder-clap, the

velvet curtain split asunder: Patti-Patty was revealed on the stage, while

the band played as if possessed. Lily, in the shadow of the wings, put her

hand to her heart; her veins were ablaze. And that audience, at which she

peeped through a crack in the scenery; that audience was hers, with its

rustling silks, its bare shoulders, its diamonds, its flowers! She would

have liked to step forward, to say:

"Here I am!"

She felt herself excited by a curious feeling; an aggressive mood, which,

no doubt, came from all the healths she had drunk: to the Astrarium, to

this one, to that one, to all of us! Gee, what fun it had been: champagne,

cakes, my, tons of cakes! And Lily, who had long been unused to any such

excess, felt her head splitting. A fever seemed also to reign all over the

dressing-rooms and passages. They talked of front boxes reserved at a

thousand francs by the Aero Club; stalls at fifty francs; every seat in

the house filled; and the best people, nothing but the best! Lily, in her

exalted condition, took it that they had all come for her; and she had to

dazzle them all! And soar above them all! To a hurricane of applause from

"her favorite audience," the Astrarium audience, on a first night!

And she felt so gay that she was not angry when Glass-Eye asked her, now

that _she_ was an artiste, too, to teach her her stage-smile.

"Why, of course, Glass-Eye! I owe you that, to say nothing of the rest!

But you won't lose by waiting! Take my word for it: among friends, you

know!..."

And she kissed her maid, felt inclined to cry, became quite sentimental at

her going....

She was less amiable to Nunkie, who was prowling around near her. Oh, how

angry she felt with that old rogue! Because of Thea, first of all; and

then it was he who gave her away, not Jimmy! Tom had told her. Nunkie

mumbled something to her: his dear girls; ungrateful creatures who were

leaving him! His poor life shattered! His pigeons, he had his pigeons

left; yes, and his home; but what was that compared with loving hearts?

And, as she was on such good terms with Jimmy and everybody, couldn't she

use her influence? Oh, if he could have the Bambinis, be appointed their

guardian! "He would bring together such a nice little family troupe: all

the joys of home!

"You old wretch!" cried Lily, in a threatening voice. "Just go and look,

at the corner of Oxford Street and Newman Street, if you can see me! You

old snaky! You old bromide merchant! Hiding letters, too, you

nigger-driving humbug! Oh, you're sure to get the Bambinis, I _don't_

think!"

"_Ver-r-rdammt_!"

Nunkie turned on his heel, shaking the passage with tremendous oaths.

"I thought," Lily shot at him from behind sarcastically, "I thought one

ought never to swear! It's wicked to swear, Mr. Fuchs!"

In her dressing-room, she went on laughing at Nunkie and his

"_Donner-r-r-wetter-r-r_!" and his "_S-s-satan_! _S-s-satan_!" It made her

comb her hair all awry and apply the grease-paint to her cheeks with a

trembling hand. She felt a buzzing in her head: that confounded music

which seemed to come from everywhere and hissed in her ears! But, when her

turn came, she'd show them! Never had she felt so light. She was sure of

herself, strangely sure. It seemed to her that, if need be, she'd have

shot up to the stars, damn it!

As soon as she was ready, she went down to the stage. She didn't know why.

It was her wish to be everywhere, her craving for movement. The aerobike

had been taken from its cage, behind the back-drop; the stage-manager,

Jimmy and Jimmy's assistants were standing round it. Jimmy was testing

everything, for the last time, making sure that there would be no hitch:

"Hullo, Lily!" he said, when he saw her. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" said Lily. "Look!"

And she flung back her wrap with her two bare arms and stood, a figure all

charm and grace, with youth, joy and courage sparkling in her eyes. In the

mysterious half-light, amid the endless sounds from the band, Lily seemed

to shed rays. Jimmy, dazzled, looked at that dainty form, that delicate

breast, those rounded shoulders, that splendid body fashioned by years of

Spartan life, each muscle of which was quivering with enthusiasm. And she

laughed ... laughed ... head thrown back, full-throated; told the story of

Nunkie, with furious gestures, as though she were strangling the old

beast. And then came sudden displays of feeling, for the Three Graces and

the Bambinis.

Jimmy had never seen her like that. The stage-manager also thought her

queer, for he looked at Jimmy as though to ask what on earth was the

matter with her. And, going up to him, he said:

"Look how she's trembling! One would think she had a fever."

"It's quite true," said Jimmy.

And the two stared at each other in consternation when Lily, stooping to

pick up her cloak, was nearly losing her balance and coming to the ground.

They exchanged a few words in a whisper. Then the stage-manager said:

"Go up to your dressing-room, Miss Lily. You mustn't stay here, you know.

We'll send for you when the time comes. Go and put your hair straight."

It was only a pretext; but the same thought had passed through both their

minds: it was the champagne! Lily, who was accustomed to drink nothing but

water, was ... if not exactly drunk ... well ...

Thereupon, in an instant, Jimmy made up his mind: it was finished and

settled, irrevocably, as though he had spent hours in reflecting. The

newspapers had expressed doubts; there had been suggestions of trickery.

An immediate, brilliant success was essential, to carry the thing off: a

hitch and all was lost and the luck of the Astrarium and his own fame

vanished in smoke! Lily was out of the question that night: she was

bubbling over at every pore with unnatural excitement ... she was not

Lily,--was not herself ... it meant certain death to her, the aerobike

smashed to pieces, the end of all things! Lily would do it to-morrow, the

next night; but not to-night.

He had just time to go to his dressing-room and put on his white sweater,

black breeches, black stockings: an athletic costume which he always kept

at the theater in case of need. And quick, in the saddle: the moment had

come! He must succeed, now or never! And Jimmy, calm and sure of himself,

took his seat on the aerobike. A great silence followed....

Lily, at that very minute, anxious at not being sent for in her

dressing-room, was going back to the stage, but she was stopped at the top

of the stairs by the stage-manager, who said that he had received an order

by telephone from Cologne, from Harrasford: Lily not to perform that

night....

"Let me pass," cried Lily, laughing in spite of everything. "That's enough

of a joke. It's time for me to go on, I say! Are you mad? I tell you, it's

my turn!"

But she ceased, as though struck by thunder. The aerobike, with wings wide

open, was taking flight toward the stars, in a tempestuous wind.

It was done! The thing had shot past her very nose! She thought that she

would fall, so great was the pain at her heart.

"No! No!" she gasped, with dilated eyes.

And, suddenly, she understood and uttered a cry of rage!

But she could have shouted, "Murder!" and it would have sounded as the

buzzing of a bee amid that explosion of cheers. And the orchestra grew

like a flame and the light appeared, increased and shone all over the

house.

Lily flung herself back, closed her eyes so as not to see, fled to her

dressing-room with a shriek like a wounded beast's....

CHAPTER V

She dropped into her chair, stopped up her ears; but the cheers never

ceased, kept on increasing, filled the theater with a roar as of thunder!

Oh, it seemed to her that her chest was on fire, that they were pounding

her heart; that some one was taking her by the hair and banging her head

against the walls! And that storm of applause kept on and kept on ... but

it wasn't for her! It was for Jimmy all the time: they had tried it with

her, that was all! To see if it worked! And she, she, she who, only just

now, was giving herself airs with the others: a poor rag, yes, that was

all she was, less than anybody; less than Tom, her old servant, less than

Glass-Eye, that idiot, less than Ave Maria, less than a performing dog,

less than anything, worse than anything, perhaps! Mad with rage she jumped

at her gollywog, pulled down the white-eyed idol--the traitor!--spat on

it, crushed it on the floor with her heel, furious, beside herself; and

then dropped into her chair again, with her two arms flat on the table,

her head between her arms, among the grease-paints, the powder, the

overturned box of spangles, which rolled about everywhere and strewed the

floor. She felt inclined to bite into her flesh to relieve herself, she

clenched her fists and dug her nails into her skin. Oh, she would have

liked to die, to die! It was so fierce a longing, so desperate a cry that

the force of her prayer ought to have struck her dead where she sat. And

suddenly the tears began to flow and she cried and cried, all convulsed

with sobs, floored, shipwrecked, done for. She cried and cried, as though

stupefied, saw nothing save through a thick veil of water, like a person

drowning, sinking. It seemed to her as if the tears would groove her face,

for always. Oh, what would she give to be at home, in bed! Never, never

again would she have the strength to do a thing. She was done for, buried

alive. And that coward of a Jimmy, to obey Harrasford's order! Oh, the

harm he had done her! She would rather have died smashed to a jelly on the

stage: she would have suffered less! Oh, to behave like that: to flash so

much before her eyes; and then to fling her to the ground! Oh, when she

had thought that he loved her and that she loved him also, perhaps! And

Lily cried and cried....

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in front, the aerobike was receiving endless applause. The

disappearance through the opening, the plunge into space, the star

snatched from up above, that piece of theatrical symbolism filled the

audience with enthusiasm. The aerobike brought down the house, its success

surpassed all expectation, and the Astrarium was opening with a victorious

clamor.

"Yes, but at what a cost!" said Jimmy to himself, in spite of the cheers.

And, as soon as he was able to escape, putting off for a few minutes his

replies to the cards that poured in--the chairman of the Aero Club,

journalists begging for interviews--Jimmy had but one idea, to console

Lily for her disappointment of that evening: poor Lily!

His heart was beating very loudly as he went to her dressing-room. Jimmy

was no longer the fellow who knew no fear. To fly away on the aerobike, to

risk his skin was easy, for him at least; but to face Lily ... to explain

to her ... with all those things seething within him ... and, oh, the pain

he was causing her! How could he approach her after that? And could he

ever get her to love him? Ah, perhaps it would have been better if he had

gone and broken his neck in the street, on the pavement! Jimmy was

trembling like a child; in his perturbation, he even forgot to knock at

the door ... turned the knob ... entered....

Lily heard nothing, seemed crushed into her chair, with her face buried in

her right arm folded on the table, while the left hung lifeless by her

side. Her whole attitude expressed abject misery, profound despair; she

seemed extinguished in a terrifying calmness.

Jimmy, to attract her attention, closed the door noisily. Lily stirred no

more than a wax figure: one might have thought her dead.

He shivered; and, stepping forward, leaning over to her, anxiously, he

placed his hand on her shoulder.

It was like a spring that is suddenly released! Lily threw up her

sorrow-stricken face, down which the tears, mingling with the red paint,

flowed like blood, looked at him for a few seconds with a wandering air

and then leaped at him, as though she meant to bite him in the face; but

her lips shriveled up in silence, nothing came from them; and she crushed

Jimmy with an unspeakable look of terror and contempt.

Jimmy did not flinch:

"You must not be angry with me," he said gently. "I was bound to do it,

Lily; I had to save the theater."

"And get rid of me!" cried Lily, wild-haired, hard-eyed, hoarse-throated,

with the tears drying on her red-hot cheeks.

Jimmy was pale as death. Ah, all his dreams, too, were fading away!

"Lily," he said, in a voice which he strove to make firm, but which

trembled with emotion. "I have done my duty to everybody, yourself

included! But for me, you would be lying dead at this minute and the

Astrarium would be ruined. You were not in a state to appear in public ...

this evening ... believe me, Lily. The stage-manager himself...."

Lily lowered her head under his calm gaze....

"But you'll do it to-morrow," continued Jimmy, very quickly, "before Pa

and Ma! To-morrow and the following days ... and always! Your name will be

right at the top of the bill! Do you hear? To-morrow ... and always!"

"But what...? Why...?" asked Lily, as though stupefied.

"Poor Lily," he replied, gently raising that face all distorted with

grief. "Poor little Lily! I have caused you a heap of pain."

Lily, for her sole answer, gave a convulsive sob; a tear leaped to her

eyelids.

"Don't cry," whispered Jimmy, "don't cry any more. It will be your turn

to-morrow, before the New Trickers. To-morrow! Every night!"

"Every night?" asked Lily, still incredulous and yet transfigured with

hope. "You're saying that, Jimmy; but...."

"Do you doubt my word, Lily?" he replied, pressing her gently to him.

"What, I, your best friend, your only friend ... I who ... haven't I

always loved you, Lily? Do you think I've changed?... I love you more than

ever I did! I will explain everything later. And you doubt me ... who

would give my life for you; yes, life without you means nothing to me,"

continued Jimmy, in a stifled voice and clasping Lily in his arms.

Lily quivered in his embrace, hid her blushing features on his breast,

where she heard great dull throbs. She trembled from head to foot. Her

quickened senses seemed to perceive everything now; the passing

indisposition from which she had suffered, without knowing it, the light

fumes of the champagne: all that had suddenly gone, was far away; she had

never felt more lucid; she saw, she understood and was overcome with

delight, overcome with a delight beside which her enthusiasm of the

previous day seemed dark and dreary. The ardor of her eighteen years

swelled her breast. Success, in any case! To-morrow! And that man was

hers, that heart was hers! It was a dream, an enchantment! Her head rolled

back, a smile drew up her lips, her eyes, through her tangled curls,

seemed all ablaze. Jimmy bent his glowing face over her. Lily, on the

point of swooning, raised her lips to his.

Vanished around them the low ceiling, the scratched walls, the shabby

rags. Standing on the wretched spangles that strewed the dusty floor,

Lily, drunk with joy ... Jimmy, distraught with pride ... seemed like

youth and love, in mid-sky, among the stars!

CURTAIN

[Illustration: Lily quivered in his embrace.]

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