What had happened? Had she been mistaken? Impossible. Had she been tricked? This was possible.
“But no,” she thought to herself. “That dark lady will come on later. In this picture she has a separate part.”
So, standing on tip-toe, longing every second to throw away her purple cape and join the dancers, she watched and waited—waited in vain for, when the curtain fell, no dark lady with a torn ear had appeared upon the stage.
Then of a sudden someone said, “Well! How did you get here?”
“I am a dancer,” Jeanne replied quick-wittedly. “Perhaps after a while I shall be given a chance to try my skill.”
“Perhaps, and again perhaps not.” The tall, dark man looked at her doubtfully. But Jeanne, in her gown of many silver beads and her purple cape, was very charming. Few could resist her. So she stayed.
“But tell me!” she exclaimed. “There was one of the dancing girls I have known. She was third in the Fire-Bird. Where is she?”
“Ah yes.” The tall, dark man shrugged. “Where is she? She is gone.”
“Gone?” Jeanne felt her knees sink. “She is gone?”
“Ah yes, Mademoiselle. She came as a substitute to this country with us. She has been away. Tonight she comes back. She asks that she may dance. She is very clever, that one. We say, ‘You may dance.’ You have seen, she danced very well. And now she is gone.” He spread his hands wide.