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!