At the end of the rehearsal the Babe stayed behind for a few moments to see about his dress, and passing across the stage again on his way out, found the three stage directors like the King, the Queen, and the Executioner in Alice in Wonderland in hot discussion. Like Alice, he was instantly appealed to by all three, and asked to give his opinion about Cassandra.
“Do you want me to say exactly what I think?” he asked.
“By all means,” said Mackay, confidently.
The Babe hesitated a moment.
“I haven’t criticised Cassandra at all,” he said, “because I understood she was, so to speak, preserved. Also she is rather slow, and there would hardly be time for her to learn her part in the way I should suggest, and it would be a pity to confuse her mind farther. But if you ask what I think, she only reminds me of a strong young lady battling for reason against the clutches of delirium tremens.”
The stage director who had seen so many French plays, smiled.
“Drunk, certainly, and also I think beset by the black-beetle visions,” said the Babe. “I daresay inspiration by Apollo may be like that, but I am afraid to an English audience it will suggest D. T.”
“I thought she was splendid this morning,” said Mackay.
“Well, I’ve told you what I think,” said the Babe.