If she failed in such an air with such an opportunity, he thought that he could be as cruel to her as Garcia was to Malibran when her Desdemona was too timid and too tame.
'I want you to be seen at Amyôt,' he said once more, with irritation at being forced to explain. 'Othmar's friendship for you is only an injury unless you have his wife's countenance too. You can feel for her what aversion you will, but you must be seen by the world in her presence: then she can do you no harm. You are too ignorant and too young to see the perils in your path, but I see them. I will save you from them if you will be guided by me. If you are afraid to act, if you are unwilling to be with the others, they must find some other substitute for Reichenberg; there are many eager enough to replace her; and you yourself shall only say some legend in verse, some monologue, some simple poem, the "Révolte des Fleurs" or the "Vase et l'Oiseau;" anything will do; you will be heard, you will be seen, you will be known to have recited on the stage at Amyôt; it will suffice.'
He did not add that he expected so much from the charm of her voice and from the beauty of her face that the slightest cause which should afford a reason for her being seen by the great world would, in his anticipations, suffice to give her a place in its admiration, and rank in its realms of Art.
'Come,' he said imperiously, 'there is little time to lose. We must reach Beaugency to-morrow in the forenoon. All the rest are already there. You must rehearse with them thrice at the least, for you have none of the habits of the stage, though I think they will come to you easily; I have taught you all there really is to know. Come: why do you stand like that? Have you been moon-struck or sun-struck since I saw you the day before yesterday? You have an opportunity given you for which you should go on your knees with thanksgiving, and you look as though you were doomed to your death! Oh, child, what did I tell you the other day? If the hate of this woman be in your soul, let it spur you on to great efforts, let it move you to high endeavours, let it force her to own that you are dowered by nature with what she has not. Hate is an ignoble thing, and I do not think it the parent of noble actions, but if you cannot cast it out of your breast, compel it to inspire you nobly. You have wished for the world's applause, for the solace of art, for the joys of moving the minds of multitudes: all these may become yours, if you choose. But not if you consume your soul in vain passions.'
The face of Damaris grew duskily red. She knew his meaning.
'I cannot play at Amyôt,' she said slowly. 'Do not ask me, I cannot. I should disgrace you. My tongue would cleave to my mouth. You would curse me.'
'Great God!' cried Rosselin, furious and amazed. 'Because that one woman has such terror for you?'
'Not that,' said Damaris.
She was mute some moments, the blue veins swelled in her throat, a mist of tears gathered hastily in her eyes.
'I was starving and he fed me, I was friendless and he befriended me. He shall not think that I look on his kindness as a mere stairway to climb by to fame and the ways of the world. His wife and his friends shall not say that I am made by his gold and sustained by his influence; a mere thing of selfish, covetous, ambitious, mercenary greed—like so many, many women—so they say. I did not understand; now I have thought—and I do understand. You are angry and I must seem thankless. But I will never go upon the stage—never—never—never—because his wife and his world, and perhaps his own thoughts, would always tell him that all I cared for was the help he could give me, the reflection his wealth could cast on me. I never saw it like that before, but now that I have seen it so, once, I cannot go back into blindness.'