The Argosy — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

7O Pew DE Ds Pp rophwired gf RIN BE. IA RR: + > CHAPTERS a. DENISE, i haa play was just over in a certain small theatre in Paris. The audience had dispersed, some to loiter along in the Boulevards in the cool of an evening late in July, others to retire respectably home to bed, whilst a favoured few did neither, but found their way to the foyer for a laugh and chat with the actors and actresses. It was the sleepy season in gay Paris; rank and fashion had long ago dispersed en campagne, or to watering-places at home or abroad ; the Bernhardt was repeating her triumphs in London; and the thea- trical world generally was resting on its oars until the autumn should bring a fresh influx of life and movement into the city. All this added to the surprise caused by the sudden re-appearance: at the Theatre —-—— of Mademoiselle Lenard, who flashed like a meteor upon the stage some two years ago, and since then had lived in absolute retirement in the country with her husband. If this was, indeed, to be her last appearance, why did her uncle,, Monsieur Lenard, manager of the Theatre —-— choose that it should be during this quiet season, instead of in the winter, when tout le monde was in Paris. She was certainly very pretty, and acted divinely in the not very ambitious role of heroine in some tragi-comic drama that did not require very high histrionic powers. Her pathos was unaffected, and therefore touching ; her comedy light and graceful without the faintest shade of vulgarity; her occasional touches of restrained passion vivid and unconventional, and given a certain force and inten- sity by the flashing blue eyes and mobile dark eyebrows that had the power of completely altering the expression of her countenance. Not that her face contained anything more profound than careless. amusement as she stood among her young satellites, a smile on her lips and just the faintest suspicion of contempt in her bright, non- chalant eyes. She shone on all alike, singling out none in particular. And, perhaps, in this lay her safety in a not too scrupulous society. There was something, not easily defined, of dignity in her manner that effectually checked any over-familiarity. Her uncle, Monsieur Lenard, watched over her as jealously as a husband; and she had always avoided following the fashion of her sister actrésses of apie. one special admirer continually dancing attendance on her. Goim (@) DboOoksTGo