The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-04-05

factory and puzz1ing TO gaze upon II the
| gazer thought. If he did not think. he
! found her none the less captivating.
Afterward he discovered she was dam
| gerous as well
| She stood lightly. her eyes sparkling,
ner usually radiant face little serious
| The room was the empty Office of a
theatrical manager. That Is. empty OF
everything but table. a chair, the two
managers. Breval and Jancey. and Ser
polette
1t was large, and long, and bare. the
Moor uncarpeted. At the end of IL was
grand piano in a dilapidated case. On
the walls Paris fin de steele. from a dra-
matte and lyric standpoint Posters
! pink. and blue, and yellow, posters big
lettered and small lettered. posters elab-
crate and posters simple adorned the
| dingy walls, the biggest one announcing
the past, present and future debuts OF
Mile. Serpolette, ''the idol of the public,
the 'enfant gate of the hour
Jancey had turned as she came Tor
ward, his shrewd old face reddening
| with establishment Breval puckered his
| lips together and whistled.
"A thing of my own" explained Ser
polette, earnestly, slight frown ruffiing
| the smoothness of the soft flesh between
| her eyes; "a little skit thought of one
night when 1 slept woke and thought
| 1T out. / claim for it a niche. though.
| Boards worth while to play it on. 1
want the footlights of the Palais Royal
to light it up. None of your open air
theaters for this production. The legiti-
mate. May do it?''
| Her eyes were earnest and insistant.
| She was leaning forward on the handle
| of her green umbrella, her supple waist
| line curved in as she bent forward, her
rounded hips SUCCESSFULLY outlining
| themselves under her soft pink skirts.
| She appeared to have totally forgotten
hut y c,rI In o nd
| subject. Jancey looked at her steadily,
the light springing to his eyes. Breval
yawned.
What is your projects" demanded
Jancey.
First" began Serpolette. 81 am not
satisfied. Oh,''-as Breval gave vent to
scoffing iaugh--"you think we artists
are never satisfied 1t is true. But this
| time it is not my pay 1 shall find fault
with nor my role or the music of my last
song nor the words. 1t is with myself.
There has been something stirring in me
lately cannot get away from. A feeling
that must give vent to 1t or things will
go badly with me. 1t is"
WELL" urged Jancey, eagerly.
1T is'-and she threw back her head
as though she could breathe longer and
fuller with her chin raised-'ft Is this
she spoke very rapidly and low-'I wish
to hold the public in the palm of my
scale of its emotions. / not only desire
to force it to laugh and applaud, to
cheer me and cover me with flowers. l
want to strike a new variation. Twould
be so intoxicating to make the public my
sounding board and bring forth from it
at my sweet will groans or signs, as well
as rampant enthusiasm and applause
I'd like to bid the tears course down
their cheeks as well as to see those
same cheeks wrinkle up with laughter.
I'd redden their eyes as well as make
them laugh. It's silly to laugh always
/ want more power. Give me the space
to try for it,
Breval smiled cynically. "a whim,"
he said and then he turned, Indifferent
ly, and commenced to toss over some pa
pers on his desk.
Jancey sat silently regarding Ser
polette. Then he stretched forth his
hand.
"Come here. my child" he said, ap-
provingly; then and there, for the first
time, spoke the artist"
Serpoiette, with a little graceful move
ment, lifted her gloved hand to her lips,
kissed 1T, and with that hand laid the
kisses on Jancey's outstretched palm.
Then she sprang back, tossed her hat
from her. and her umbrella, and her
gold eyeglass. and her purse of silver
links. She breathed heavily and slowly.
You know how 1 can laugh" she be-
gan. bid some one write me a play
which contains both laughter and tears.
/ can weep as WELL.
Your from Breval, skeptically, you!
You were not made to weep
A look of pain, as oddly at variance
with her saucy face as a cloud across
the brightness of day in June, blotted
out for an instant the bloom of Ser
polettes radiant counterance. 1t van
ished as quickly as it came, but Jancey
had seen it.
"Ah, let me try it," she urged. Surely
you will let me play my share of tragedy
as well as comedy. Surely you will not
deny me the knowledge Of tears?"
1t seemed an anomaly. A woman like
Serpolette pleading for the right to weep.
Breval rubbed his eyes.
Enough" he said; have done. I
know your type. At weeping you would
fail. You have not suffered"
II can play at tears
"YOu cannot"
II will
"You won't. engage you to laugh.
1t is like your sex soon the con-
tract Is signed to wish to play heavier
roles. Try the legitimate If you will,
but, pour ramour de Dieu, leave out the
mournful and lugubrious The public
would only laugh at you;" and to en-
phasize his remark Breval brought down
his fist with conclusive bang the
table before him.
Serpolette stamped her foot.
You refuse?"
met"
"Soit"
She settled her hat firmly on her grace
full head. brought her white teeth to-
gether with a click, picked up her purse
and umbrella and marched like a petit
coated drum major to the door.
AS she laid her hand upon the handle
Jancey cried suddenly, az have an idea
Hear me- as Breval commenced a vio-
lent protest LET Serpolette laugh:
give her soubrette parts. Have another
actress to fill the title roles. Make the
play serio comic. Twill be a new vent
ure at the Palais Royal. Serpolette is
sure to draw. She has filled our pockets
Give her her head, but in reason
II have it," cried Serpolette, and down
went her umbrella again. Il know a
girl, a friend of mine from Mines. She
is the personification of grief. All her
lines go down as all mine go UP. Eye
lids droop, mouth droops at the corners,
'unmitigated grief. So"
She stood mournfully, trying to look
as grief stricken as she could; but her
hat belied her, and her willful hair, and
her eyes. and her dimples.
Breval smiled reluctantly.
us she novice?'
"She has played two years at Lyons
Mor-