Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. 13 Some very hard work comes first, and Rose was put through the following course. To begin with, her pretty little feet were placed inside a curious sort of apparatus called a “ groove box,’’ aud placed heel to heel in a straight line, the knees of course being turned outwards, and the sides of the box being so contracted that the toes could not incline inwards a hair’s breadth. »@ The pain caused by this attitude was at first very severe, but Rose would not own to her sufferings, and, bearing it like a little martyr, she was delighted to find that after six or seven days her supple joints accustomed themselves to the novel position, and her feet fell easily into the required position when she danced. After she had mastered this difficulty Rose had next to essay another, rather more formidable and fatiguing. This was to rest her right foot on a bar which she at the same time held in her left hand in a horizontal line, then varying the attitude with the left foot and right hand, by means of which movements the stiff- ness of the feet was in a great measure destroyed. Having got thus far, she had now to learn how to walk upon the extreme points of the toes, so that the leg and instep formed a straight line. This done she had to practise what are called ‘‘ caprioles,’”’ in which she was expected to perform four or five steps in the air, a feat productive of the most heartbreaking fatigue. Then followed all sorts of flings, and cuts, and movements far too numerous to particularise ; and then, in the rehearsal of the pantomime, she was com- pelled to go through a great deal of stage business of so dangerous a nature that every day she risked her life and her limbs, for any bungling upon the part of Mr. Flathers’s carpenters, or amore than usual weak- ness of Mr. Flathers’s worn-out machinery, might have dashed her headlong from the “‘ flies ’’ down the traps, to be taken up a bruised and mutilated corpse. But Rose worked very hard indeed, and Mr. Totts was filled with delight at the improvement his pupil made under his tuition. *‘ That girl will make a wonderful dancer,’’ he said to Mr. Flathers; ‘‘ don’t lose her, my dear sir, don’t lose her. She’saCerito! She’s an Ellsler! She’s a Taglioni! She’s a Carlotta! Keep her, and she’ll make your fortune and her own too.”’ Mr. Flathers listened with a faint smile. ‘¢T wish I could,’”’ said Mr. Flathers with a groan ; ‘‘T wish I were not in that atrocious villain’s power. Poor girl! if she only knew whet misery is in store for her !’’ Christmas drew near, hourly nearer, and the noise and bustle of the Royal Babylonian Theatre increased daily. Jack Halliday was scarcely ever able to find time now to come down to speak a few words to Rose after rehearsal, and when he did come he looked far from heroic. A shabby suit of clothes, splashed with whitewash, and with sundry dabs of various-coloured paints about it, a face smeared in one or two places with Dutch pink, and a beard plentifully besprinkled with gold leaf, could not be said to add much to his personal attractions. Still, his clear blue eye and his merry ringing laugh were there. Rose always welcomed him with delight, and he for his part appeared to find a great charm in the pretty ballet-girl. A constant visitor at the Babylonian Theatre during the getting-up of the Christmas pantomime was the handsome man called the “‘ count.” Whenever the opportunity of addressing a few words to Rose presented itself he did not hesitate to avail himself of it, but, with a smile, would speak to her with a quiet compliment or an amusing joke. Despite Jack Halliday’s warning, she could not but be civil to him, for had he not procured her employment ? Yet she mistrusted him. The count smiled and showed his teeth. He bided his time. a * a aw” & 2 * He Boxing-night came at last. The last spangle was sewn on the harlequin’s dress, the last touch of paint was given to the Dismal Depths of Desolation, the last piece of gold leaf was laid on the scroll-work of the Palace of King Bobtail, and the early arrivals were hammering at the gallery door, impatient to be let in to secure front seats to witness the first performance of the Fairy of the Dewy Dell, or Harlequin and the Magic Poker. A dull play to which nobody listened, a merry overture, and then the tinkling of a little bell and the simultaneous rising of the curtain on the Abode of the Demon of the Rocky Gorge, and the burlesque opening of the pantomime commenced. A clashing of cymbals and a furious belabouring of the drum, and the Rocky Gorge, demon and all, gave way before the stage carpenters to the Dewy Dell of Delight. Rapturous applause broke from the audience as one of the most beautiful of Clevérly’s scenes burst upon them. The car of the Goddess of Morning descended, and from it stepped one of the most lovely beings that could be conceived, for Rose Mortimer had been selected by Mr. Flathers to personate the goddess. Deafening applause broke from every part of the house. All paid tribute to the Queen of Beauty, who, radiant, beaming, and happy, stood before them in the person of our heroine. Never had a more perfect and genuine success been achieved in the ballet. Mr. Flathersrubbed his hands and chuckled. Mr. Totts prophesied great things of his pupil, and, last though not least, Count Lerno, who was behind the scenes that night, showed his white teeth with a grim smile as he followed every movement of the lovely ballet-girl. ‘‘Tt cannot fail,’? he muttered to himself; ‘‘ she cannot suspect.”’ 1t was a late hour before the pantomime was over ; but at last clown committed his last felony, pantaloon received his last kick, and harlequin made his last leap through a respectable tradesman’s window, and the audience turned out into the sloppy streets to make the best of their way home, discussing as they went the merits of the pantomime, but all agreeing in praising to the skies the wonderful grace and beauty of Rose Mortimer. The frost, which had set in a few days before Christmas, had given way before a soutuerly wind. The pavement was slippery and unpleasant. The lamps burnt dimly, and all without looked miserable and desolate. The streets were almost deserted. ‘¢ Miss Mortimer.”’ Rose heard her name spoken in a soft tone by some one behind her. She turned and saw the count. ‘¢ Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Mortimer, on your well-deserved success to-night.” 6‘ You are very kind,” said Rose; ‘‘ but for your kind aid I should never have been allowed to appear.” COMME DOOLKS..