In point of fact, the distance from their seats to the stage offered
little obstacle to her complete enjoyment: her senses were all youthful
and unimpaired; she saw and heard what many another missed of those in
their neighbourhood. Furthermore, Joan brought to an entertainment of
this character a point of view fresh, virginal, and innocent of the very
meaning of ennui. She sat forward on the extreme edge of her chair,
imperceptibly a-quiver with excitement, avid of every sight and sound.
All that was tawdry, vulgar, and contemptible escaped her: she was
sensitive only to the illusion of splendour and magnificence, and lived
enraptured by dream-like music, exquisite wit, and the poetic beauty of
femininity but half-clothed, or less, and viewed through a kaleidoscopic
play of coloured light.
During the intermission she bent an elbow on the sloppy table-top and
chattered at Austin with a vivacity new in his knowledge of her, and for
which he had no match....
At one time during the second part of the performance, the auditorium
was suddenly darkened, while attention was held to the stage by the
antics of a pair of German comedians. But in the shadows that now
surrounded them (quite unconscious that Austin had seized this
opportunity to capture her warm young hand) Joan became aware of a
number of figures issuing from a side-door to the stage. She saw them
marshalled in ranks of two--a long double file, vaguely glimmering
through the obscurity. And then the comedians darted into the wings, the
lights blazed out at full strength all over the enclosure, and a roll of
drums crescendo roused the audience to a tremendous and exhilarating
novelty: a procession of chorus girls in hip-tights and hussar tunics
who, each with a snare-drum at waist, had stolen down the aisle, into
the heart of the auditorium.
For a long moment they marked time, drumming skilfully, their leader
with her polished baton standing beside Joan. Then the orchestra blared
out an accompaniment, and they strode away, turning left and marching up
the centre aisle to the stage.... Joan marked, with pulses that seemed
to beat in tune to the drumming, the wistful beauty of many of the
painted faces with their aloof eyes and fixed smiles of conscious
self-possession, the richness of their uniforms, their bare powdered
arms, the pretty legs in their silken casings. Oblivious to the
libidinous glances of the goggling men they passed, she envied them one
and all--the meanest and homeliest of them even as the most proud and
beautiful--this chance of theirs _to act_, to be admired, to win the
homage of the herd....
She awoke as from idyllic dreams to find herself again in a Third Avenue
car, homeward bound. But still her brain was drowsy with memories of the
splendour and the glory; fragments of haunting melody ran through her
thoughts; and visions haunted her, of herself commanding a similar meed
of adoration....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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