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.