The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1900-11-22
BEHIND THE SCENES.
ny ARTHUR WESTON.

orchestra jingled through the opening bars
Of tho Marseillaise.
IL was the last scene OF a successful play.
on the dingy stage of a theater in England,
lj years ago.
Donald Carter stood on the steps of the
quillotine. His face was upturned: his
whole figure quivered with nervous force.
and his expression was almost divine.
Round the steps of the guillotine was
howhng mob OF the citizens Of Paris. rep.
resented by half-a-dozen "supers' and
thin, undeveloped, trembling girl, who was
dressed as boy in an old blue blouse and
brown hreeches. with a scarlet cap of Lib.
erty on her dark hair.
Resting one hand on the rail Of the stems,
she looked up at Donald Carter, her gray
eyes brmming over with tears.
Julie Stern was only II. The glamour of
the stage was written--ctuClly, suggestive.
y-on the face of the man and in the eyes
Of the girl.
ooh, Mr.. Carterl You are wonderful"
"Who is that! What did you say Oh,
It's httle Julie Stern is it? Crying?"
He put his hand gently on her shoulder
and marched her down the stage. toward the
one feeble gas jet on the prompt side. Julie
met his searching glance without waver.
ing
you play Philippe don't you:" asked
Donald; then, before she could reply: Bad!
bad! You can't be thinking Of what You
are doing"
Il have only three lines!" exclaimed
Julie.
Three lnes" repeated Donald. "Better
actors than you or will ever be have played
smaller parts What do you expect to do
at "a? Goneril or Lady Macbeth
jules eyes flashed.
There's Philippe,' exclaimed Donald.
"Comel No more tearsl Now let me try to
make you understand your three lines"
The scene was changed 1t was gayly
decorated little room, and the air was heavy
with the scent of flowers.
1t was Julie Stern's own little room at
the theater, adjoining the one where she
dressed.
Julie was sitting in a big chair playing
with the Jeweied chain around ner neck
and listening to the talk of three men
Time and success had changed the emo
tional little Philippe into a lovely won.
an. She was playing Juliet at last but
Donald Carter, as he leaned against the
wall by the window, looked at her with his
old critical glance.
IL
simply charmin'i" said one of the men, an
old actor, who knew her we'll
For live minutes her Juliet was the only
theme, then the next act was called. "Mer.
Quito" hurried away, the other actor took
lengthy good-by, and she was left alone with
her eldest friend. Donald was about to leave
England for long American tour, and all
he had was staked on its success.
julie rose and came toward him, con-
sclous Of triumph and hungry for praise.
well, Don, what do you say!"
You are changed dear Julie! You have
done much; but are you quite satisfed?"
She glanced over her shoulders into mir
ror that reflected her beautiful face and
flashed a smile to the reflection of his.
"Yes!"
Them can say nothing, but 'charmin,
my dear girl, charmn'r
lie held out his hand, but she drew back
DO YOU think | am ungrateful, DOM" -
Il think you are spoiled-it's pity-you
are building up your own limitations. Good
by, Juliet Failure never hurt you, but sue
cess is more cruel fire Goodby!"
Julie, with sudden impulse of cruelty,
bent toward him.
Utter failure has evidently spoiled you,
Don, even you."
Donald understood He had failed, ut
tery failed, to win her love, and with
last "good+by'' he left her,
up and down, up and down, with a step
that faltered or quickened, according to his
troubled thoughts, Donald Carter paced up
and down the dreary room Of a small hotel,
in city of the far west.
Julie Stern was in the city; he heard her
mai A
play, but determined, and without any wa
vering from deep resolve, to keep her from
the knowledge of his losses and disap.
pointment.
III | have failed--what matters?" said
Donald, throwing himself into low chair
IN the dark, gloomy room. "Others sue
ceed! II ! fall out the ranks close up and
The march goes on!"
There was slight sound at the other end
Of the room, and he lifted his eyes. Silence.
Then, suddenly, out of the shadows-quick
!y, mpulsivey y-there came toward him
Julie!
She heard his quickening breath; she saw
the change in his careworn face by the fad
ing light at the window; but she paused for
one minute. There was scarlet handker-
chlef in her hand, and with twist and
Ioosely-tied knot, it was turned into a cap
OF Liberty.
The old, half-forgotten scene sprang up
In his memory. 1t was little Philippe, who
was kneeing by his side-no, it was Julie!
Don! There is no glory for me without
your praise! There is no happiness without
your Lowell"
lie tried to speak, but she twined her arm
round his neck and went on:
You have only loved me for few years,
bGt have loved you since was a child In
al my work-in detection and in joy-I have |
Tried and tried to be good enough for you!
Eyen when you went away. when | was
Playing Juliet"
There was long pause He took her hand |
and laid it against his lips, but there was
something so unlike himself, SO quiet and |
Modued, that Julie looked at him with |
Hghtened, wide open eyes.
Dear Donald, you are very i'll and
weary"
Not now, not now" he whispered in a
uroken voice; "but sometimes, Julie, have |
thought it would be well to strive no more. |