A FIRST NIGHT AT THE BON-BON.
"Faust Upset" had been put into rehearsal at once, and three weeks
after the murder of Lazarus it was to be produced. Mortimer had
hurried on the production of the burlesque with the uttermost speed,
as "Prince Carnival" was now playing to empty houses. The Bon-Bon
company were kept hard at work, and, what with rehearsals during the
day, the performance of the opera-bouffe in the evening, and
rehearsals afterwards till two in the morning, they were all pretty
well worn-out.
In spite of Kitty's indomitable spirit, she was looking haggard and
ill, for the incessant work was beginning to tell on her system. The
doctor told her plainly that she was killing herself, and that
absolute rest was what she required; but in spite of those warnings
she never gave herself a moment's peace.
"I don't care two straws if I die," she said recklessly to Dr.
Chinston; "I've made arrangements for the future of my child, and
there's nothing else for me to live for."
She was determined to make the burlesque a success, and worked hard
at rehearsals getting the author and composer to alter some things,
and cut out others, making several valuable suggestions as to
stage-management, and in every way doing her best. But though friendly
towards Keith, yet he was conscious of a kind of reserve in her manner
towards him, and thought it was due to the knowledge that he was
engaged to Eugénie.
He had become reconciled to his sweetheart, and she went down every
day to teach Meg at Toorak. It had been arranged that in three months
she was to go to England with Meg, and Kitty guaranteed to pay a
certain sum annually for the salary of the governess and the
maintenance of the child. Of course Eugénie never meant to take any
money, as she had become strongly attached to Meg, but still kept up
her semblance of poverty till such time as she judged it fit to tell
Keith. Meanwhile, in spite of Keith's opposition, she lived with
Caprice, and led a very quiet life, for what with the state of her
health and constant rehearsals, Kitty gave no Sunday receptions.
But while Stewart fumed and fretted over the fact of his sweetheart
staying with a woman of bad character like Caprice, and attended to
all the rehearsals of the burlesque, Naball was silently winding his
net round him. The detective had made inquiries at the Skylarks' Club,
and found that Keith had been there on that night, in the company of
Fenton. On discovering this, he went to Fenton and discovered that
Stewart had lent the American the knife with which the crime had been
committed, to cut the wires of a champagne bottle, and afterwards
slipped it into his coat pocket. From the club he went to the Bon-Bon
Theatre, and, as the detective knew from Keith's own admission, had
left there at half-past twelve.
"And then," said Naball to himself, "he told me he wandered about the
streets till two o'clock, and then saw Villiers--rubbish--he went
straight to Russell Street and committed the crime."
It had taken Naball some time to collect the necessary evidence, and
it was only on the day previous to the production of "Faust Upset"
that he was able to get a warrant for Keith's arrest, so he determined
to let the performance take place before he arrested him.
"If it's a success," said Naball to himself, as he slipped the warrant
in his pocket, "he'll have had one jolly hour to himself, and if it's
a failure--well, he'll be glad enough to go to gaol." So, with this
philosophical conclusion, Mr. Naball settled in his own mind that he
would go to the theatre.
Keith wanted Eugénie to go to a box with him in order to see the play,
but she said she would rather go to the stalls by herself, in order to
judge of the effect the burlesque had on the audience. After a good
deal of argument, Stewart gave way; so on the momentous night she took
her seat in the stalls, eager to see the first bid her lover made for
fame.
Tulch had been recalled from his task of watching Stewart, as Naball
judged that the vanity of an author seeing his work on the stage would
be enough to keep the young man in Melbourne; but Tulch, true to his
instincts of finishing a job properly, took his place in the gallery
and kept his eye on Keith, who sat with Ezra in a private box. The Jew
was calm and placid, as having succeeded to his father's fortune, he
had not staked everything, like Keith, on the burlesque being a
success; still, for his partner's sake as well as his own, he was
anxious that it should go well.
Such a crowded house as it was--everybody in Melbourne was there--for
a new play by a colonial author was a rare thing, and a burlesque by a
colonial author, with original music by a colonial composer, was
almost unheard of.
The critics who were present felt an unwonted sense of responsibility
to-night, for as this was the first production of the piece on any
stage, they had to give an opinion on their own responsibility.
Hitherto the generality of plays produced in Melbourne had their good
and bad points settled long before by London critics, so it was
comparatively easy to give a verdict; but to-night it was quite a
different thing, therefore the gentlemen of the press intended to be
extra careful in their remarks.
Although "Faust Upset" was called a burlesque, it was more of an
opera-bouffe, as there was an absence of puns and rhyme about the
dialogue, besides which, the lyrics were really cleverly written, and
the music brisk and sparkling. Keith had taken the old mediæval legend
of Faust, and reversed it entirely--all the male characters of the
story he made female, and _vice versa_. There was a good deal of
satire in the piece about the higher education of women, and the
devotion of young men to athletics, to the exclusion of brain work. In
fact, the libretto was of a decidedly Gilbertian flavour, albeit
rather more frivolous, while the music was entirely of the
Offenbachian school, light, tuneful and rapid.
After a medley overture, containing a number of taking melodies in the
piece, the curtain rose on the study of Miss Faust, a blue-stocking of
the deepest dye, who, after devoting her life to acquiring knowledge,
finds herself, at the age of fifty, an old maid with no one to care
for her. The character was played by Toltby, who was a genuine
humorist; and he succeeded in making a great deal out of the part,
without ever condescending to vulgarity. His appearance as a lank,
long maiden, in a dingy sage-green gown, with wan face and tousled
hair, was ludicrous in the extreme.
The opening chorus was sung by a number of pretty girls, in caps and
gowns, and on their going out to meet their lovers, Miss Faust,
overcome with loneliness, summons to her aid the powers of evil, and
in response "Miss Mephistopheles" appears.
Kitty looked charming as she stood in the centre of the red limelight.
She was arrayed in the traditional dress of red, but as a female demon
wore a petticoat, and her face was also left untouched. Miss Faust
fainted in her chair, and Miss Mephistopheles, with a bright light in
her eyes, and a reckless devil may-care look on her expressive face,
whirled down to the footlights, and dashed into a rattling galop song,
"Yes, this is I," which melody ran all through the opera.
With the assistance of various cosmetics, new dress, and sundry other
articles of feminine toilet, which were brought in by a number of
small imps, Miss Mephistopheles succeeds in making Miss Faust young;
shows her a vision of Mr. Marguerite, a young athlete; and finally
changes the scene to the market-place, where there was a chorus of
young men in praise of athletic sports.
It would be useless to give the plot in detail, as Keith followed the
lines of the legend pretty closely. Miss Faust meets Mr. Marguerite,
who is beloved by Miss Siebel, a sporting young woman. There was the
garden scene, with a lawn tennis ground; a vision on the Brocken, of
the future of women, with grotesque ballets and fantastic dresses; the
scene of the duel, which was a quarrel scene between Mrs. Valentine
and Miss Faust, after the style of Madame Angot; then Miss
Mephistopheles runs off with Mr. Marguerite, having fallen in love
with him; the lovers are followed and thrown into a prison, which is
changed by the magic power of Miss Mephistopheles to a race-course, in
which scene there is a bewildering array of betting men, pugilists,
pretty girls, and fortune-tellers. Miss Mephistopheles then resigns
Mr. Marguerite to Miss Siebel, and wants to carry off Miss Faust to
the nether regions, when a flaw is discovered in the deed, and
everything is settled amicably, the whole play ending with the galop
chorus of the first number.
When the curtain fell on the first act, the audience were somewhat
bewildered; it was such an entirely new departure from the story of
Faust, that they almost resented it. But as the piece progressed, they
saw the real cleverness of the satire, and when the curtain came down
they called loudly for the author and composer, who came forward and
bowed their acknowledgments.
When Mortimer heard the eulogies lavished on the piece, he drew a long
breath of relief.
"Jove! I thought it was going to fail," he said, "and I believe it
would have, if Caprice hadn't pulled it out of the fire."
And, indeed, Caprice, with her wonderful spirits and reckless
_abandon_, had carried the whole play with her, and saved it at the
most critical moment, A young man sitting near Eugénie summed up his
idea of the piece in a few words.
"It's a deuced clever play," he said; "but Caprice makes it go--if any
one else plays her part, the theatre will be empty."
Eugénie turned angrily to look for the author of this remark, but
could not see him. Just as she was turning away, a shrill voice near
her said,--
"Ain't Caprice a stunner! I've seen 'er lots of times at old
Lazarus's."
The speaker was a small, white-faced Jewish youth, being none other
than Isaiah.
Miss Rainsford pondered over these words as she walked out of the
theatre.
"Goes to old Lazarus's," she said to herself; "that was the old man
who was killed. I wonder why she went there."
There was a crowd in the vestibule of the theatre, and she saw Keith
standing in the corner, looking as pale as death, talking to a man.
She went up to congratulate him on the success of the performance, but
something in his face made her afraid.
"What's the matter, Keith?" she asked, touching him.
"Hush!" he said in a hoarse whisper, "don't say a word--I'm arrested."
"Arrested! What for?" she gasped.
The man standing next to Keith interposed.
"For the murder of Jacob Lazarus," he said in a low voice.
Eugénie closed her eyes with a sensation of horror, and caught hold of
the wall for support. When she opened her eyes again, Keith and the
detective had both vanished.
"Arrested for the murder of Lazarus!" she muttered. "My God! it can't
be true!"