The actors were much better than they had promised to be at the dress
rehearsal, but they were still far from being good. It was very plain
that they had been insufficiently rehearsed and there were some bad
cases of mis-casting. Nevertheless, the performance was better than he
had anticipated, and his spirits rose almost as rapidly as they had
fallen on the previous night; and when at the end of the performance
there were calls for the author, he passed through the door that gave
access from the auditorium to the stage with a great deal of elation.
He was thrust on to the stage by Gidney, and found himself standing
between two of the actresses. There was a great black cavern in front
of him which, he realised, was the auditorium, and he could hear
applause rising out of it. The curtain rose and fell again, and the
buzz of voices calling praise to him grew louder. Then the curtain fell
again, and this time it remained down. He realised that he had gripped
the actresses by the hand and that he was holding them very tightly....
"I beg your pardon!" he said, releasing them.
"Awf'lly good!" said one of the actresses, smiling at him as she moved
across the stage. How horrible actors and actresses in their make-up
looked close to! He could not conceive of himself kissing that woman
while she had so much paint on her face.... He turned to walk off the
stage, and found that walking was very difficult. He was trembling so
that his knees were almost knocking together and when he moved, he
reeled slightly.
"I say," he said to one of the actors, "my nerve's gone to pieces.
Funny thing ... I ... felt nothing at all ... nothing ... until just
now!"
The actor took hold of his arm and steadied him. "Queer how nerves
affect people," he said, as John and he left the stage. "I knew a
man who got stage fright two days before the first night of a play
in which he had a big part. Nearly collapsed in the street. All right
afterwards ... never turned a hair on the stage. Must congratulate you on
your play ... jolly good, I call it. Tragedy, of course!..."
He had expected some sort of festivity after the performance, but there
was none. The players were eager to get home, and Gidney had a
headache, so John thanked each of them and went back to his hotel.
"Thank goodness," he said, "I shall be at home tomorrow."
He got into bed and lay quietly in the darkness, but he could not
sleep, and so he turned on the light again and tried to read; but his
head was thumping, thumping and the words had no meaning for him. He
put the book down. How extraordinary is the common delusion, he
thought, that actors and actresses lead gay lives! Could anything be
more dull than the life of an actor in a repertory theatre? Daily
rehearsals in a dingy and draughty theatre and nightly performances in
half-rehearsed plays!... "Give me the life of a bank clerk for real
gaiety," he murmured. "An actor's just a drudge ... and a dull drudge,
too! Very uninteresting people, actors!... Why the devil did I leave
Eleanor behind?"