“Well,” Swen drawled, “since this is to be our first production, and success will keep the wolf from the door for six months to come, I don’t see that it’s so worse. One success calls for another. And it’s on the second that you have a chance to tell ’em where they get off.”
“I think,” said Petite Jeanne quietly, “that Swen is right. It means renewed hope for all of us. Winter is at our door. There are no turnips in our cellar, nor hams in our smoke-house.” She thought of the old days in France.
“That’s me,” agreed Dan Baker.
Since Florence had no contract to sign, she said nothing.
“Then,” said Angelo with a sigh, half of relief and half of disappointment, “we sign on the dotted line. To-day we visit the theatre. To-morrow rehearsals begin. The thing is to be put on as soon as it can be whipped into shape. Every day a theatre is dark means a loss to its owners.”
They signed in silence. Then, drawing chairs before the fire, they sat down for half an hour of quiet meditation. Many and varied were the thoughts that, like thin smoke, passed off into space as they lingered there.
CHAPTER XIII
THE CIRCLE OF BRASS
They entered the theatre together at four o’clock that afternoon, Angelo, Dan Baker and Petite Jeanne. It was a damp, chilly, autumn day. Jeanne had caught the mood of the day before they entered. There was nothing about the empty playhouse to dispel this disturbing gloom. The half light that was everywhere, a small—bright torch of a lamp here and there boring sharply into the darkness—revealed the threadbare, neglected interior of the place. The floor of the stage creaked as they ventured to walk across it. Row on row of plush seats lay dimly before them. The few that were lighted were soiled and faded. The once gay gilt of box seats had cracked off in places, showing the white beneath. The great velvet curtain drooped woefully.
“How dismal!” Jeanne spoke before she thought.
“My dear,” said Dan Baker, stepping before Angelo to conceal his look of pain, “it is not the house, but the people that make a theatre. The glowing, pulsating throng of living beings. This is a theatre. Picture this broad stage filled with dreams of beauty and grace. Catch a glimpse of the gay costumes. Listen to the songs and laughter.