She was conscious at once that the members of the company realized that she was a stranger and not Marjory Dean.
“But I shall show them how a child of France may play her native drama.” At once she lost herself in the character of Jean, the wandering-juggler.
Eagerly she offered to do tricks with cup and balls, to remove eggs from a hat.
Scorned by the throng, she did not despair.
“I know the hoop dance.”
The children of the troop seized her by the hands to drag her about. And Jeanne, the lithe Jeanne who had so often enthralled thousands by her fairy-like steps, danced clumsily as the juggler must, then allowed herself to be abused by the children until she could break away.
“What a glorious company!” she was thinking in the back of her mind. “How they play up to me!”
“My lords,” she cried when once more she was free, “to please you I’ll sing a fine love salvation song.”
They paid her no heed. As the juggler she did not despair.
As Jeanne, she saw a movement in a seat close to the opera pit. “An auditor!” Her heart sank. “What if it is someone who suspects and will give me away!” There was scant time for these thoughts.