The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, September 12, 1896, Image 11

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    THE COURIER.
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A METEOR.
The Triumph of a Debutante.
Already the curtain had fallen upon
the that act of the theatrical event of
month, the Hrst night of a new play and
the town debut of a young aspir
ant for stellar honors, which might
prove meteoric or of duration; it de
pended upon herself. She had been the
talk of newspapers and of people; pub
lic curiosity was rife, owing to judicious
advertising, rival cliques observed, and
to sincerity of put pose and conten
tious work in her art, her supporters
asserted .
This bandying back and forth of her
name and yet no tarnishing hint ap
proaching caught public attention; the
position seemed anomalous, somewhat;
it amused, and then interested, and all
the world and its neighbors had Hocked
to form its own opinion and pass judg
ment of its own or rather to choose the
one already made, which suited them
the better. It requires mental exertion
to have an original opinion; it is far
easier to use that of some one else, and,
characteristic phrasing, utter it as one's
own; and human nature as a class dis
likes mental effort; a few brains may do
the thinking of the word.
The play had begun charo ingly; it
unrolled itself amid artistic settings
that elicted admiration from connais
seure, and clothed its naked plot in
sparlthng, flowing epigram that de
lighted the audience; it required intelli
gence to catch always the double en
tendre, aud there is pleasure in feeling
oneself equal to demands.
But until the debutante came on they
were manifestly impatient, and when, at
last, she entered, calling to some one
back as she came, there was complete
silence as they guaged her, walking
down as unconsciously as though no
eyes were watching her every motion,
the dainty white gown simple as only
a createur could accomplish, the ripp
ling auburn hair caught in a loose knot
in her neck, and a tiny fluffy dog held
close to her breast; thus she stood, the
one natural wholesome figure in the
play. The house caught its breath a
second and then burst into applause;
physically, at least, they approved her.
She spoke her lines with an ease and
unconsciousness that made every wo
man in the house feel it required only
naturalness to be a good actress; the
actress; the hard work that accomp
lishes it was a matter unknown to them,
but they applauded unstintingly where
any chanc offered, and tho debutante
appreciated their welcome, though in
wardly her artistic sense was jarred
when tho dialogue was stopped by the
noise. But she was grateful to them,
so grateful; their sympathy helped, but
again she felt that annoyanco that she
should allow herself to think of tho
audience. She was a woman, after all,
as well as an artist, and success meant
so much.
Tho play went on: epigrams tlew about
her unheeded; many lost point by her
presence; it refuted them, and the relish
departed; then camo a sense of con
straint, and gradually she was left alone
with the hero. Him she amused; it
was a phase of woman hitherto un
known, this unsophisticated but intelli
gent creature, who, to his experienced
eye, pobsesscd possibilities yet unde
veloped. His role was that of one who
teaches well and thoroughly certain
things, and then demonstrates them.
Why not educate her?
The curtain fell with enthusiastic
dem.nstrations from the audience. In
the closing 6cene the debutante had
held an animated and witty dialogue
with the hero, and given it as one who
appreciated the points, which were as
different in their originality and tlavor
as the scent of musk and new-mown
bay. It came, like the latter, with a
touch of salt blowing over it from the
ocean beyond; it was piquanto and
clean.
She was standing in tho middle of the
company when the curtain was raised
for tho encore, and tho applause grew
louder; it was for her, principally; pub
lic opinion had pronounced in her favor,
and it was pleased to bo enthusiastic.
Again she was called out; this time only
the hero came with her, and as she
stsod there bowing, Hushing with pic
uro beneath the thin rouge, suddenly
she held out both hands to the audience
with a gesture that thanked and ap
pealed to them at once, and at that
moment the little white dog sho had
first carried in escaped from some one
back, and, running across tho stage,
bounded about her barking squeakily,
and as the curtain was falling again the
people saw her pick up the little animal
and hide her face in his shaggy coat.
In tho foyer the critics were discuss
ing her. She was un succes fou. There
was a charm, a magnetism and an earn
estness that won them. Crudities she
had, but they were few and trivial, and
would shortly disappear; awkwardness
was a word unknown to her; the press
would support "society."
Back in her dressing room the debut
ante was sitting with her head on her
arms, on the low dressing table. The
mirror reflected her figure, absolutely
motionless, and the bare little room,
which tho maid was putting to rights
after changing the debutante's gown
She waB clad now in a delicate blue,
and the curves of her neck showed ex
quisitely white and pure against it. Tho
auburn hair had been done high on the
small head, aud an endless bit of blue
ribbon wound its way through the
twists.
The dog was curled, sleeping in her
ap, and she was thinking thinking,
ten minutes before she would go on,
how deadly tired she was and there
was a queer, fluttering pain about her
heart; it vould not let her draw a long
breath. Never mind, one made but one
debut; how she had dreaded and longed
for it; those few people in front held her
future in their hands when 6ho faced
thom tonight; now it was assured; no
not assured, but chance was givou her
to do something. She was not to bo
condeiiced without a trial; that -vould
have been woise than death; but she
had deserved a hearing; how she had
worked, and struggled, and gone wih
out for three years to accomplish the
result of tonight. The future would be
the same hard work, ceaseless thought
and practice. What had given her such
a pain in her heart? She hud had it
before, but never like this now. Prob
ably it would Ftop presently. Dear
little Kate! How the little sister's eyps
would sparkle when the debutante told
her of her success, tho little sister who
was hopelessly ill and would bo always,
for whom she lived and worked, and
who was the only tie in her life; and
Kate had been her inspiration and un
swervingly believed in her abilities when
she had thrown herself down upon tho
bed in tho abandonment of despair.
Dear little Kate, she would have what
she wanted now, tho hard times were
past, and the debutante need look no
longer grudgingly at the dainties Kate
liked and pass them by because their
little all was hoarded and paid out that
she might study. How selfish it bad
made her feel when the money was used
for her and Kate went without; the joy
of repaying and making up would be
the sweetest thiug'in the world. There
was the orchestra playing; she could
just hear it; nearly time to go on again.
Why didn't that pain go away?
In front of the curtain the teats were
all filled again, the last man was in his
place; no one wished to miss the debut
ante's second entry.
The stage was set for a ball and tho
usual automatic figures walked to and
fro in pointed and pointless conversa
tion, and, standing in groups, endeav
ored hopelessly to be those simplest of
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