The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1908-11-13
THE LUCK OF
BEN ABBAS

Hen Abbas was sitting disconso-
lately on trunk. There were many
Others around him; just where the
hurried baggage man had scattered
. them. Through the flies he caught
glimpses of the stagehands hurrying
to set up the stuff for the first act.
He heard the wheezy sound of the
musicians jupihg their instruments.
Above ALL was the voice OF the stage
manager swearing. + 2 o5.1
had said It was a Quarter
TO eight. ltuiight have been a, quar-
ter to eight but Ben Abbas did not
care. The jump had been long
one, and he was tired; 70 himself he
softly cursed the one-night stand
business. Then his greater trouble
came back to him. and mist in his
eyes that might have been tears,
blotted out the trunk-filled space,
with Its two fluttering, spluttering
gas Jets. For Abbas was emotional,
and the little blue devils were crush
ing him down with a force that he
could not resist. 1t was all Blanche's
fault. for Blanche was different than
she had been before.
But moment later, however, he
was blaming Miss Pollier. Then he
was sure that It was Miss Pollier's
fault For Miss Pollier had been
leading lady until a week before,
when a severe cold settling in her
throat, forced her to retire. tempor-
arily at least And the blondly
beautiful Blanche had been her un-
.derstudy. The second night she was
well, Indifferent was the only word
that expressed 1t.
Sitting there oblivious to all the
thousand sounds. Abbas suddenly
heard someone shout to the stage
manager that Perhans had the de-
lirium tremens. The stage managers
reply was brief, and to the point He
: said: Damn it," Ben Abbas reused
himself suddenly, and as he did so
his troubles fell from him as a man
tel. For Perhans played Mephisto,
and of all that company Ben Abbas
was the one man who could replace
him. Ben Abbas knew this. SO did
the stage manager, for in second
he was bowling Ben Abbas' name.
How often in the last six months
Ben Abbas has seen Perhans playing
Mephisto! He knew every line Of the
part, knew every move Of II. because
his soul had danced in his eyes as he
had watched. And every night the
sardonic smile and the mocking
laughter had thrilled him. Because
his soul had been there. no anticipa-
tion could rob him OF his thrills. And
tonight he was to be Mephisto! In
his heart---the true heart Of a player
"a new elation crowded out the old
pain. Tonight--if only for one hour
he would be her equal! He. would
be the master of her fate: he would
sweep aside, the differences: he would
make her his again! '''' '"''e. !
Most Of those In the audience had
never seen good acting Into their
simple lives great passions and COM
pleX emotions had never entered. SO
they marvelled that night at Ben Alb
bas. Tricked out In the motley of
Mephisto, he seemed to them to be
mocking at all humanity, all of their
weaknesses and all of their petty
Ntaae q. In thnIr af,
were stilled into silence that was
almost awe. And to Ben Abbas the
silence was an incentive. the awe an
inspiration.
Once the symbolism of 1t all struck
him. He as Mephisto. she as Mar
guerite; and he the master of the
fction's fate as he had been master
OF hers but one short week before-r
was this the way to make her his
again? Then. for one moment. the
thought came to him. that. perhaps,
II was this symbolism that had awed
Blanche into fear; that she had seen
him as a true MeDhisto, and herself
as true Marguerite. and that In
q sMarguerites fate she had read her
: own. But 1t was only for one hor-
rible moment of fear. Then the as
surance came that she was too true
an artist ever to see the allegory be-
hind the art. 1t could--be only art
to her; 1t was real. so she shuddered;
she could understand. Thus, in the
end, his fear became an inspiration.
The moment came when the cur
tain fell on the last encore: when the
audience, the actors and the musi-
clans clattered noisily away; when
the lights went out, and the hurry
Ing stagehands packed up the stuff
for the next jump. And, in that mo-
ment, his feeting glory gone, Ben
Abbas wondered If. after all, 1t were
not as unreal as unstable as dream.
AT that instant he saw Blanche
standing near with downcast face,
still in the gulse of Marguerite. Then
he, who had forgotten, knew why his
triumph had been real. Through the
fellowship of their act. he had made
her his again. He went toward her,