The Argosy — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

130 Monsieur Michaud’s Fiancée. the week never pass—when she could tell Madame that she would make no more bonnets? But if she failed? Why then it would be bonnets for the rest of her life. Quel supplice ! The day came. Georgette was ready long before M. Michaud appeared to accompany her. She walked more like Marie Antoinette going to execution than ever, and feit like her, too. The dream of her life hung on this trial. But Georgette had never imagined what the reality of this ordeal would be like. The dark theatre, not built to admit pure daylight,. the great desolate house, and those rows and rows of empty seats— terrible in their emptiness, making one feel that a myriad of invisible beings were seated there listening, jeering, and criticising, ready at the first trip to hiss you off the stage. Then the gloomy stage itself, and the real flesh-and-blood actors barely visible! But now was heard the prompter’s voice, from his mole-like hole, rapping the boards with his wand. | ** Allons!” Suddenly to Georgette it was no longer dark, the ghosts became clothed in ordinary attire, the actors, shadowy though they might be, were not actors but living lords and ladies. And she was not Georgette Joliet, but another woman with a simple, sad pathetic his- tory ; a history which would, if people understood it, make them cry from sympathy, and the stage was the world, the world in which the heroine had to live and to suffer. Georgette walked into the Director’s private room after the play as if she were in a dream. She did not notice M. Michaud seated in a corner, she only saw M. Roche whom she had not beheld before, having been ignorant of his presence in one of the boxes. He came forward and patted her on the shoulder. “Not bad, my child: never done anything of this kind before ! Nobody would hear you, you know, beyond the first four rows, and you were all over the stage—but still, practice and hard work may cure that. Would you like to join us? Very little to earn at first, for we shall have all the trouble of training you. Think the question well over.” ‘‘T have thought,” said Georgette, quietly ; ‘ever since I was a girl.” ‘‘ Never mind about the pay,” put in M. Michaud. “If she can get on?” “That depends on herself.” ‘The Director was guarded. Geor- gette had gone to fetch her hat. “To you recommend her to give itup? It won’t do, will it?” ‘ But it will,” answered M. Roche: ‘and really, Michaud, I think this time it’s not only an idea.” ‘‘T wish it were,” sighed the good man. Nevertheless, as he walked home with Georgette, they turned into Madame’s establish- ment, and Georgette took leave of her for ever. Happy Georgette! Gomicbooks.co