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

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She's talented to the ends of her
nails" asserted Jancey, IF you will; but
there is one note she does not strike,
with all her temperament, or art. or
heart. or whatever you choose to call it.
The note of tragedy"
Mon Dieu.'' retorted Breval, rolling
his congested eyes up toward the in
offensive ceiling, as though calling it to
witness his partners stupidity. Mon
Dieul and do you expect. then. a TRACE
dian in an actress de genre, an actress
who is the idol of the bouIevards, who
has danced and pirouetted and sung for
them and with them for two years with
increasing and almost unheard of sue
cess? Who has caught the public fancy
and held it, which is more" this soto
voce, land has been the rain and the
sunshine of Paris, it's mirth barometer
for twenty-four solid months Mais vous
etes fou. Who wants a tragedy in Paris !?
Not pleasure seekers, certainly. Go to
the morgue for it; you'll find it there.
Who wants melodrama but croakers and
idiots? Tragedy in a comedian. You are
mad"
II don't want tragedy" continued jan
cey, as though he had not been inter-
rupted. what 1 require. what 1 desire
from Mile. Serpolette is an undercur-
rent to her mirth. It's not frothy. 1t
won't last. Nous autres Parisiens. We
are all artists au fond. We bear prob
ing when it comes to criticism. You
can't probe anything Serpolette does.
She is radiant and healthy, pretty and
soulless, light and bright; but she lacks
finish because there is no undercurrent
which brings the tears to your eyes
when she laughs, the way Chartrain did
in her day. Why, I've seen Chartrain''-
and here old Jancey rose to his feet as
though to give vent better to his words
I've seen Chartrain stir a butcher boy
gazing at her through the chinks Of one
of the board walls of the Cafe Chant
ants. have seen butcher boy lift his
dingy apron with his grimy hand and
wipe his eyes when Chartrain sang that
song about the gamin de Paris: how his
tongue is brightest when despair lies
closest to his heart She struck the
keynote, / tell you. always because Of
her undercurrent Of sympathy. We
Parisians love to laugh, but we only
recognize real genius as genius when it
plays upon all our other emotions like
fingers along piano keys. We want to
be reused to merriment. But merri-
ment alone is colorless. Give us at the
same time the consciousness of life, the
belief that the woman who acts, or sings,
or attitudinizes is a sympathetic soul
attuned to life's uncertainties. Then we
fall down and worship her. Then we
lift her to the apex of our ims gination.
Then we acclaim her far and wide as
ours, as not alone possessed of one
talent, but of a whole set of talents; as
limitless, as fully equipped. as charged
with coloring matter as the sun. and the
air, and the sky. Serpolette has not
lived. She has SKINNED, If you will
She has not felt. I'd be glad to go to
sleep for ten years and wake to find her
as obscure as last years danseuse If only
to prove to you that If she continues as
she has her light will be quenched in
another six months at the rate
she is going. It's too bad. A
bright soul. A butterfly existence. Moth
ing more. l had hoped much for her. 1
am disappointed
and attest her lightness is assumed
with malice aforethought," insisted Bre-
VAL Il contend she studies her world.
and that she has the tact to see that life
is sufficiently tragedy without her as
sistance l am sure she knows her trade,
solved to make the public laugh, rollick.
anything you will. But behind it all,
Serpolette understands life Que voulez
vous? She is an enfant de Paris. A
gamin. A waif from the streets Why,
twenty years ago, when her mother trod
the boards of the Palais Royal, Ser
polette, then baby, used to amuse her
little ways. and her wise, bright eyes,
and her crow of unmitigated mirth. 1
have seen Grosbois double I'D his fat
sides over her comic gestures. He pre-
dicted great career for her always.
She sets the tune to every joke afioat
She is hummed from the boulevard
Montmartre to the Chatelet. There are
Serpolette hats, and Serpolette fichus.
and horse named after Serpolette; and
one Of the Oldest imperialistic families
have sent their dearest offspring to
South Africa to avoid her wiles. She's
hung with Jewels, and she's young, and
pretty, and convincing. All the man.
ayers are after her. All the jeunesse
doree is at her feet. There is a song
dedicated to her. There is Serpolette
march. That is success. Ultimate fail
ure, if you must. Why endeavor to
teach her to know all things, and WISE
ly? She knows life well. She's tasted it,
She uses the world as her tool. It will
rouler her in the end, but with that class
life is short. Why torment out of her
the tragic note?"
Old Jancey frowned.
II like the child" he confessed There
is something vastly better than wanton-
ness and nastiness in her. She is un-
common. / would have her make her
art so great thing that she would COM
mand from the great. as well as the