The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921, 1893-10-28

his hands with q gesture of deprecta-
ton.
what, Dartmouth at his age wished
to reappear?''
feebly since he had lived in idle exile
aud had accumulated fresh crop OF
yvhislkers. Still the prospect of y fruit
full evening, on the strength OF the
actors reputation, tempted him, and he
had already formed n plan announcing
Darzincourt.
.'1vell, why shouldn't you return to
: the stagc?" he said.
Radiant with the idea of again filing
this dingy hall with his sonorous
speeches, the old actor began to dis
cuss the piece. lie didn't need any re-
| hearsals, of course; nc had played the
part so often! With the joy of a child
he sought the costume room, tried on
again the clothes he> had worn more
than :, hundred times, requested that a
few changes be made. and passed the
day in consultation with the hair
dresser and costurncr of the theater.
Not a wig pleased him; he ordered a
new one. nervous Eayety possessed
him; he could have turned somersaults.
The advertisement produced it's effect.
When the time came the hall was
crowded to witness his rcaPpearance.
but the feverisll enthusiasm he had
counted on was lacking. He appeared,
Il little applause saluted him, but it
was not continued. The audience be-
came apathetfc. What! was this the
Paramount that had charmed them in
other days? Why, the poor fellow was
crotesouc! He felt Disconnected, but
not alarmed. Since his departure they
had missed the FIRE of the old school Of
acting; he would show them what it
was!
The old patrons of the t1leater whom
49, ~
surprise. The newcomers began openly
to ritlicule. The rest of the company
sull.ed and gave Darzincourt his cues
reluctantly. until he began to lose his
assurance little by little He stumbled
in a pathetic speech--turned 4 sentence
into ridicule the parterre howled.
From that moment every word, every
gesture provoked a tempest.
Dartmouth felt a cold perspira ton
gather on his forehead. Around him
in the boxes people were going out,
and he murmurcd, pale with anger:
'.Ingrates! Ingrates!'
Al that point in the play where he
was to fall-in a faint after reading tho
! letter-he could not get up until a ma
chiuist was sent to help him. Then the
Kisses rose like storm. Such an OPP
portunity to have fun was infreQucnt
in this quiet town, and the crowd set
up an awful racket. But DarziDcourt
persisted. though his eyes were filled
with tears. AT last, crushed by his
emotions, he forgot his lines He
stood with mouth wide open, hearing
no more than the dcrisive shricls of
the orchestra or the cat-cails from the
galleries. The failure was decisive;
the play could go further. Enter
ing his t!ressing-room the old comedian
tore his hair, Keeling like q drunken
man.
you've put us in nice box"
growled the director who nevertheless
had just pocketed the receipts.
Darzincourt regained his home in
crushed condition. A whole life of
glory to end in this fatal defeat! Still
dressed he lay down on the bed and re-
viewed the horrible evening. No! he
would not allow himself to be beaten
He would fight again Could he leave
the theater forever? Even with its
chaSrins and notifications he had
need of it.
The handsome Darzincourt OF the
past now suppiicated and implored the
director; he did not wish to be paid
he only asked to have q small role
given him little. d very little role.
From motives of economy they ac-
coded to his request; he was given tho
part of a servant and he set out to
study it with all the ardor of Il de-
butante.
When he came in, letter in hand, the
audience without reason, except that
of cruel Joy, began to sing; "Dar-zin-
ourt-Dar-zin-court'' to popular air.
From balcony to orchestra rang the
derisive sound.
''Iou see, my poor old man," said the
manager you are no longer wanted"
And he, haggard, sinking-having
tasted again the intoxication of the
thcater, asked himself i'll desperation
what was to become of him from the
footlights.
After that he asked only permission
to be a supernume of the peo-
pie, archer of the palace, noble without
Importance. But they recognized him
in the midst of the others, and the pub
lie, accustomed to having amusement
at his expense, filed the hall with
noise and laughter. 1t was impossible
to allow him to appear now even as a
''supe" The little house at the gates
of the town still smiled beneath its bur-
den of clematis and fresh green vines,
but he came there no more.
All his life was bound up in the
theater. He was a martyr of the stage!
He passed his days in corner of the
wings, having no more the right to
show himself in the evening. however
humbly. He wasted away, worn by
sadness and longing, wandering about
through the dressing-rooms of the
artists like an old dog whose hunting
days are over, but whom no one will
turn away. One night the manager aP-
preached him with a cruel smile.
:.Look hcre,'' he said, 1--WE are going to
put on a new piece. In the third act
-1,o 1,orl-i1r IF &. doc is heard in the