'Oh, I can't dance,' cried Victoria despairingly.
'But I assure you, it is not difficult,' said Carrel. 'We will teach you. There, I will show you the contract. As you have not had much experience my syndicate can only pay you one hundred and fifty francs a month. But we will pay the expenses and the costumes.'
Victoria looked doubtful for a moment. To sing, to dance, to go to France where she had never been, all this was sudden and momentous.
'Voyons,' said Carrel, 'it will be quite easy. I am taking four English ladies with you and two do not understand the theatre. You will make more money if the audience like you. Here is the contract.' He drew a printed sheet out of the drawer and handed it to her.
It was an impressive document with a heavy headline; Troupe de Théâtre Anglaise. It bore a French revenue stamp and contained half-a-dozen clauses in French which she struggled through painfully; she could only guess at their meaning. So far as she could see she was bound to sing and dance according to the programme which was to be fixed by the Directeur, twice every day including Sundays. The syndicat undertook to pay the railway fares and to provide costumes. She hesitated, then crossed the Rubicon.
'Fill in the blanks, please,' she said unsteadily. 'I accept.'
Carrel took up a pen and wrote in the date and cent cinquante francs. 'What name will you adopt?' he asked, 'and what is your own name?'
Victoria hesitated. 'My name is Victoria Fulton,' she said. 'You may call me . . . Aminta Ormond.'
Carrel smiled once more. 'Aminta Ormond? I do not think you will like that. It is not English. It is like Amanda. No! I have it, Gladys Oxford, it is excellent.'
Before she could protest he had begun writing. After all, what did it matter? She signed the document without a word.