Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1905-05-03
TIE DUCHESS Ar THE THEATER.

earnestly than at the stage, but the
knowledge did not change her attitude
by so much as the flicker Of an eyelid.
She was used to being looked at, and
bore it with q naughty patience, a mag
nifcent resignation. What were such
looks to her?
She had quiet manner, IN a century
when manners, as a rule, are not quiet
are, perhaps, indeed, hardly manners at
ala slow way of speaking, and that
type of beauty which is SO delicate that
it seems cold. 1t was impossible to i'm
agine any vulgar passion rufiing the
exquisite serenity of her features She
was always serene, always, in sense,
gracious and graceful She was not pos
sibly, amusing, but then that would
have been out of drawing for her. She
never laughed she seldom smiled. She
had q way of lifting her eyebrows when
people made jokes in her presence which
was SO indescribably disconcerting that
the otfense was never repeated. Not that
her look suggested anger-far from it.
1t held however, a mild but measureless
wonder at the absurdity of human ma
ture which would have CALLED a rock
People called her stupid, but that was
merely Immature. 1t was not her meter
to be brilliant. She had been beauty
ever since she could remember. She pro-
Vided the world with something to look
at-something emphatically worth look
ing at-and she suffered their regard
with silence which just missed being
contemptuous, as it did tonight
The play was going on, but she did not
look at the stage. She had seen it be-
fore. She did net know why she had
come, unless it had been-yes, that was
it. She wanted to think, to mediate, to
understand, before Tomorrow it
would be too late to understand.
Tomorrow it would all be different.
The pedestal would be empty-her ped
estal, from which she looked down I'M
smilingly upon the homage of an admir-
ing world. She breathed a shade more
quickly, and the diamonds at her throat
made a sudden glitter of fire. She was
so tired of it all-so terribly, deadly
tired; and tomorrow she would be free.
\ little shop girl in the pit was
looking up at her with round childish
eyes OF admiration, and trying to make
out how her hair was done How beau
tiful she was, this white goddess. with
her pale, lovely face, and her aureole of
diamonds! How heavenly to be like her.
beautiful and happy!
Tomorrow, her thought went on. she
would be free. This was, in a sense. the
last night of her life-the life that had
been hers until now. 1t had been a
happy life, according to most peoples
ideas of happiness little shop girls
eyes were still upon her!-it had. most
certainly, been prosperous, successful
even dazzling in its success. Everybody
envied her, she knew. With a shiver.
she realized, as she sat there. how little
she was to be envied if they had under
stood.
And now she was going to throw it
all to the winds-this good fortune. this
success which was boring her to death.
She was going to be alive instead of
white goddess on a pedestal. She was
going to descend from her pedestal for
ever and find humanity-in the mud,
perhaps. She smiled family, little,
scornful smile. Oh, she was not a fool
she understood
She sat motionless, and her eyes fell
on the stage. The play was going on
t was an irefIably stupid Dlav. The
hero was just making love to the hero
Inc, and talking the most supreme non
sense-the usual nonsense A faint sem
sation of wonder seized her as she
thought of all the people in this great
building who were sitting watching SD
stupid a scene.
1t was stupid, of course. The duke
had once-but that was long ago. She
had snubbed him gently, she remembered.
She had married him. and that was quite
enough. She was not going to submit
to being made love to as WELL Besides,
his 1Oye-malling did not interest her in
the least
And yet now, for St Charles sake
her diamonds flashed again-for st.
Charles sake she was going to step
down from the pedestal. It was very
curious, for until few days ago she had
not taken much notice of ST. Charles.
He was clever, she knew; and she did
not care Tor clever men, nor they for her.
she had listened once or twice when he
was talking, and had wondered at his
a1llnatlon, his earnestness, in a world
Where 1T really did not seem of much use
TO be earnest. He had appeared to be
enthusiastic, and enthusiasm bored her.
She mad remembered thinking what a
very exhausting young man he was.
Ihen-that evening. She paused in
her meditations and tried to remember
how it had happened She was forced to
confess that she did not know. He had
taken her by surprise, he had frightened
her, and bewildered her, and-yes-fas-
clnated her. That was the word. He
was SO terribly in earnest, so terribly
alive, and human, and-of course-so
madly in love with her. The duke. well.
this was quite different from the duke.
The white goddess, on her pedestal,
looked down and trembled with vague
unrest.
And then, quite suddenly, it came-the
revolt, the inevitable revolt from this
frozen, unnatural life which she had
llved for so long; the desire for freedom,
Tor that freedom which had never been
hers. She remembered once seeing a lark
IN cage beating passionate wings
against the bars. For a moment she
ho