“You are mistaken,” she said. “You must listen. Another girl must be found to take the part of Helen of Troy, for I refuse to act.”
The light was growing dim, for it was getting on to nine o’clock, but again the girls perceived that Mrs Hazlitt’s cheek was flushed, and that her eyes looked almost angry.
“What do you mean?” she said, coldly.
“I don’t like the character, and I won’t appear in the tableau as the character, that is all.”
“But, when I desire you to be the character—”
“I don’t think you will force me against my conscience. This is a case of conscience: I will not be Helen of Troy.”
“Do you quite know what you are saying?”
“Quite.”
“She spoke to me very explicitly,” said Deborah. “It is, I think, a matter of conscience.”
“She gave me her mind, also,” called out Cara. “Hush, Deborah. Cara; when it is time for you to speak, I will call upon you to do so. Do you clearly understand, Honora, what this means?”