And did she? Never had there been a time in her whole life when she worked so hard as on the days that followed. No director with a gray steel face was here; no brass rail where she must twist her toes in agony; no Eve, lacking in imagination, endeavoring to teach where she herself should be taught. Yet there were compelling forces driving her on. Love, friendship, hope, the determination to win; these are the great, beautiful masters that ever lead us on to nobler and stronger lives.
Success was not assured. Far from that. The Junior Ballet was, after all, little more than an advanced class in a great school. Chosen from the best of young dancers, they were constantly in training so that in some dim, distant time they might perhaps take their place by ones, twos and threes in the ballet of some great opera company. Beautiful they were, to be sure. Grace was theirs, too. But seasoned troupers they were not. For this reason there would not be the snap and precision in their dancing that could be found in a modern chorus. Would youth and natural beauty replace this? Even Solomon wrinkled his brow when the question was asked.
“They will!” Jeanne clenched her hands hard. “They must!”
This was her great opportunity. Still more important, it was Dan Baker’s opportunity.
“I have youth. I have time to win success,” she assured herself. “But for him it is now. Now, or not at all.”
Whenever she thought of this she threw herself with renewed zest into her work.
The light opera, too, was found to be crude and unfinished in spots. What opera is not? Solomon suggested changes. They were made.
Then one day, after they had been working for a week, a beautiful creature entered from another world. She came sauntering down a narrow corridor which Jeanne had seen leading away from the left side of the stage but had never dared to follow.
This creature was a woman. Jeanne knew from her manner that she was no longer in her twenties; yet her beautiful face did not show it. Like Jeanne, she was fair with golden hair. She wore, draped over her shoulders, a cape of royal purple trimmed with white fox. Beneath the cape showed a curious costume. Made of some soft cloth, it appeared to belong to another age, for it was neither the costume of man nor woman. There was a suggestion of a dress that might, after all, be a long coat. And there were trousers fitting like stockings, and curious, bright colored shoes.
With no apology for her strange make-up, she shook hands with Solomon and went to sit with him at the back of the theatre. As the rehearsal progressed she turned from time to time and whispered in the producer’s ear. He listened attentively, nodded, or shook his head and scribbled in his note book.