"Certainly I can overplay it," the star declared. "That's the danger. My effects should come from repression." "I must differ with you. Repressive methods are out of place here. You see, John Danton loses control of himself--" "Nonsense!" Francis declared, angrily. "The effectiveness of the scene depends altogether upon its--well, its savagery. It must sweep the audience off its feet in order that the climax shall appear logical." "Nonsense again! I'm not an old-school actor, and I can't chew scenery. I've gained my reputation by repressive acting, by intensity." "This is not acting; this is real life." Francis's voice rose a tone in pitch, and his eyes flashed at this stubborn resistance to his own set ideas. "Great heavens, Phillips! Don't try to tell me my own business. People don't behave that way in real life; they don't explode under passion--not even jealousy or revenge; they are reserved. Reserve! That's the real thing; the other is all make-believe." Seeing that it was useless to argue with the man, Phillips said nothing more, so Francis and his wife assumed their positions and began their lines. It was a long scene and one demanding great force to sustain. It was this, in fact, which had led to the choice of Irving Francis for the principal rôle, for he was a man of tremendous physical power. He had great ability, moreover, and yet never, even at rehearsals, had he been able to invest this particular scene with conviction. Phillips had rehearsed him in it time and again, but he seemed strangely incapable of rising to the necessary heights. He was hollow, artificial; his tricks and mannerisms showed through like familiar trade marks. Strangely enough, the girl also had failed to get the most out of the scene, and this morning, both star and leading woman seemed particularly cold and unresponsive. They lacked the spark, the uplifting intensity, which was essential, therefore, in desperation, Phillips finally tried the expedient of altering their "business," of changing positions, postures, and crosses; but they went through the scene for a second time as mechanically as before. Knowing every line as he did, feeling every heart throb, living and suffering as John Danton was supposed to be living and suffering, Phillips was nearly distracted. To him this was a wanton butchery of his finest work. He interrupted, at last, in a heart-sick, hopeless tone which sorely offended the already irritated Francis. "I'm--afraid it's no use. You don't seem to get it." "What is it I don't get?" roughly demanded the actor. "You're not genuine--either of you. You don't seem to feel it." "Humph! We're married!" said the star, so brutally that his wife flushed painfully. "I tell you I get all it's possible to get out of the scene. You wrote it and you see a lot of imaginary values; but they're not there. I'm no superman--no god! I can't give you more than the part contains."