Life — February 6, 1908 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

al ball eee The next morning, as Mr. Marcus had requested in his letter, Beverly Vaine called at the manager's office, and after a rather long wait, was ushered in by Miss Stern. Marcus was barely visible behind his heavily littered desk, but now and then his big dome-shaped bald head would appear and instantly dip below the horizon, as it were, pre- senting an amusing resemblance to an animated ostrich egg. For some moments he took no notice whatever of Beverly Vaine, then he glanced hurriedly at him and crooked his thumb inward. “Take a seat!” he said. Beverly sat. Mr. Marcus a; forgot him and dictated a long letter to Miss Stern. Vaine watched her slim fingers fly over her note- book and became more and more uneasy; at last he coughed. Miss Stern looked up, but Mr. Marcus did not, so Vaine coughed more loudly. At the sound Marcus raised his head and stared impatiently at the young man before him; then he wheeled around in his swivel chair, sank his big head against his small body, placed his white bejeweled fingers on his knees, and spoke very rapidly in the manner of a shrewd, far- seeing business man. “Mr, Vaine, I wrote you the terms upon which I am willing to produce ‘The Atonement’ for Miss Chester. Are they satisfactory?” “T think so, sir, but’—— “Very well. Now, of course, you will have to make some alterations to suit the star, and there are some practical changes which my manager, Mr. Fielding, will suggest to you. We shall open on the twenty-cighth and you will, of course, assist at rehearsals and do what is necessary until that time. Now I must ask you to excuse me. Miss Stern, will you ask Mr. Barry to come in?” And so in two minutes after this moment- ous interview began it was over and Vaine was on Broadway once moré, rather dazed and wholly disappointed by the treatment he had received. At his rooms he found a tiny scented note covered with a large-lettered handwriting, which informed him that Miss Constance Chester congratulated him on his.success as a play- wright and would be glad if he would take tea with her that afternoon in her apartment on West Seventy-sixth Street. Accordingly, at five o’clock Vaine entered a glistening new apartment house and was shot up to the seventh floor, where he found Miss Chester in a nest of silken cushions smoking a fragrant Turkish cigarette. She extended a jeweled white hand with great good humor. “Glad to see you, Mr. Vaine. I think we've met before,” she said. “At the Arts, wasn’t it?”” he queried. “T think so. Funny you should be writin’ my play. Got it with you?” With a slight blush, Beverly produced the manuscript and Miss Chester ran over it with a practiced eye. “Hum,” she said, firing her comments at him between puffs of her cigarette, “I’m Marta, of course? Well, it looks pretty good to me, only I want the first scene made into a garden party. I’ve the dandiest costume for it that I wore at Longchamps this summer.” “But, my dear Miss Chester,” Vaine interposed, “I can’t possibly do that. You are a peasant girl in the first act, and that has got to be on the coast of Brittany.” Miss Chester’s fine eyebrows drew together rather omi- nously. “Well, you’ve got to work in that Longchamps gown later,” was all she said. A few silent moments ensued and then the woman flung down the paper and tumed rather angrily toward Vaine “Here!” she objected, “this man Breval talks too much; in many places his speeches are as long as mine!” Beverly Vaine strove to hide a smile. “He is the hero, you see,” he explained, affably. “Do you think I’m a fool?” Miss Chester spoke sharply. “Surely not, and that is why you should realize that your leading man”— “That's just it; I can’t bear my leading man. I know Marcus will use Gerald Standish, who is just off the road with ‘The Adventurers,’ and Gerald Standish is a pig. See here,” she added, an idea suddenly possessing her, “I've got a copy of this myself, and I’m busy going over it now. By Monday I'll be through with it, and then I’ll return it to you with a few suggestions, and I just want to say, Mr. Vaine, that I’ve had a little more experience in these matters than you, and it’s customary for the views of an actress who is to create a part to be accepted by an author wherever possible, and Mr. Marcus told me he should certainly expect you to consider my wishes in this matter.” She paused for breath and looked curiously at Vaine, who had risen and was standing silently before her, hat in hand and quite pale. “Have I made myself clear?” she observed, more gently. “Perfectly so,” Vaine replied, in a tone as courteous as it was cold, “and now I’ll say good afternoon.” “But you will surely stay for a cup of tea, won’t you?” coaxed Miss Chester, for she had not meant to offend him, and was in truth a little frightened at the manner in which her words had been received. “No, I think not, thank you,” he answered, slowly; “I shall expect the copy Tuesday and will do my best to comply with your wishes.” “Good-by, then,” murmured the actress, once more giving Vaine her shapely hand. ‘‘And,” she added, sweetly, “I do hope we shall get along.” “I hope so, indeed,” said Vaine, gravely, “but you will have to do your share of the getting along.” And before she could find words to answer him he was gone. Toward the end of the next week Miss Chester had a stormy interview with Mr. Benjamin Marcus. “T won't stand for it!” the woman cried, raging up and down the room, a perfectly natural red spot in the center of each soft cheek. “It’s too late to change the piece now,” Marcus objected, “and I’ve ordered this man again and again to fix the play to suit you. Hasn’t he done it?” “No, he hasn’t! He won’t do a thing I want. He keeps talking about ‘Art’ and ‘educating the public’ and the ‘de- terioration of ideals.’ Oh! he makes me awful sick!” Just then Miss Stern knocked at the inner door. “Mr. Vaine,” she said. A steely glint came into Marcus’s small eyes. “Show him in, tern,” he said. Then turning to Miss Chester,‘ Youstay!’’ Vaine entered with shoulders back and lips compressed ; he was very pale and reserved. Marcus began without preliminaries: “Mr. Vaine, I am much annoyed by what Miss Chester tells me. Is it true that you have refused to avail yourself of the suggestions she has made, and which have been based on her long, practical ex- perience?” Vaine paused a moment before answering. “Well?” said Marcus, sharply. “If you mean, Mr. Marcus, that I have refused to dress a peasant character like a Parisian demi-mondaine, that I have demurred at cutting the leading male part to half its dimen- sions, that I have objected to introducing a chorus of eight flippant show girls into an earnest drama, and that, finally, I have denied Miss Chester’s right to interpolate a vulgar recitation which she has used for years to catch the gallery in vaudeville—if you mean all this by what you say, why then I plead guilty.” So forcibly had Vaine spoken and with such evident sin- cerity, that both Marcus and the actress were, for the moment, taken completely aback. The woman was the first to recover her poise. “It’s a lie!” she hissed ; ‘‘a lie! Every one is jealous of my talent, and this man is paid, yes,” stamping her foot, “I said it, Mr. Gentleman, paid, bribed, to put stumbling blocks in my way.” But long before she had finished her voluble outburst This story continued on page 1:8 Re art bow Yd Black Pas TR-N Redwa Tomicbooks.com