The Comedienne. Władysław Stanisław Reymont
Читать онлайн книгу.
I pray you, go on with the rehearsal without me! … I have such a headache that I doubt I could sing," she pleaded.
"It can't be done. We begin immediately."
"Oh, please do sing, Miss Nicolette! I'm crazy to hear you sing!" begged the squire.
"Director!"
"What is it, my soprano?"
And the directress appeared, pointing to Janina who was standing behind the scenes.
"A novice," answered Cabinski.
"Are you going to engage her?"
"Yes, we need chorus girls. The sisters from Prague have left, for they made nothing but scandals."
"She looks rather homely," opined Mrs. Cabinska.
"But she has a very scenic face! … and also a very nice, though strange voice."
Janina did not lose a word of this conversation, carried on in an undertone; she had also heard the chorus of praise that went up on the directress's appearance, and later, the chorus of derision. She gazed with a bewildered look on that whole company.
"Clear the stage! clear the stage!"
Those standing on the stage hastily moved back behind the scenes, for at the moment the entire chorus rushed out in a gallop: a throng of women, chiefly young women, but with painted faces, faded and blighted by their feverish life. There were blondes and brunettes, small and tall, thin and stout a motley gathering from all spheres of life. There were among them the faces of madonnas with defiant glances, and the smooth, round faces, expressionless and unintelligent, of peasant girls. And all were boredly cynical, or, at least, appeared so.
They began to sing.
"Halt! Start over again!" roared the director of the orchestra, an individual with a big red face and huge mutton-chop whiskers.
The chorus retired and came back again with heavy step, carrying on a sort of collective can-canade, but every minute there was heard the sharp bang of the conductor's baton against his desk and the hoarse yell—"Halt! Start over again!" And swinging his baton he would mutter under his nose: "You cattle!"
The chorus rehearsal dragged on interminably. The actors, scattered about in the seats, yawned wearily and those who took part in the evening's performance paced up and down behind the scenes, indifferently waiting for their turn to rehearse.
In the men's dressing-room Wicek was shining the shoes of the stage-manager and giving him a hasty account of his mission to Comely Street.
"Did you deliver the letter? … Have you an answer?"
"I should smile!" and he handed Topolski a long pink envelope.
"Wicek! … If you squeal a word of this to anyone, you clown, you know what awaits you!"
"That's stale news! … The lady said just that, too. Only she added a ruble to her warning."
"Maurice!" called Majkowska sharply, appearing at the door of the dressing-room.
"Wait a minute. … I can't go with only one shoe shined, can I!"
"Why didn't you have the maid shine them?"
"The maid is always at your service and I can't get a single thing from her."
"Well, go and hire another."
"All right, but it will be for myself alone."
"Nicolette, to the stage!"
"Call her!" cried Cabinski from the stage to those sitting around in the chairs.
"Come, Maurice," whispered Majkowska. "It'll be worth seeing."
"Nicolette, to the stage!" cried those in the chairs.
"In a moment! Here I am … " and Nicolette, with a sandwich in her mouth and a box of candy under her arm, rushed for the stage entrance with such violence that the floor creaked under her steps.
"What the devil do you mean by appearing so late! This is a rehearsal … we are all waiting," angrily muttered the conductor of the orchestra. .
"I am not the only one you are waiting for," she retorted.
"Precisely, we are waiting only for you, madame, and you know we have not come here to argue. … On with the rehearsal!"
"But I have not yet learned a single line. Let Kaczkowska sing … that is a part for her!"
"The part was given to you, wasn't it? … Well, then there's no use arguing! Let us begin."
"Oh, director! Can't we postpone it till this afternoon? Just now, it … "
"Begin!"
"Try it, Miss Nicolette … that part is well adapted to your voice. … I myself asked the director to give it to you," encouraged Mrs. Cabinska with a friendly smile.
Nicolette listened, scanning the faces of the whole company, but they were all immobile. Only the young gentleman smiled amorously at her from the chairs.
The conductor raised his baton, the orchestra began to play, and the prompter gave her the first words of her part.
Nicolette, who was noted for never being able to learn her role, now tripped up in the very first line and sang it as falsely as possible.
They began over again; it went a little better, but "Halt," as they called the conductor, intentionally skipped a measure, causing her to make an awful mess of it.
A chorus of laughter arose on the stage.
"A musical cow!"
"To the ballet with such a voice and such an ear!"
Nicolette, on the verge of tears, approached Cabinski.
"I told you that I could not sing just now. … I had not even time to glance at my part."
"Aha, so you cannot, madame? … Please hand me the role! …
Kaczkowska will sing it."
"I can sing, but just now I am unable to … I don't want to flunk!"
"To turn the heads of gentlemen, to make intrigues, to slander others before the press reporters, to go gallivanting all about town … for that you have time!" hissed Mrs. Cabinska.
"Oh, go and mind your children … but don't you dare to meddle with my affairs."
"Director! She insults me, that … "
"Hand me the part," ordered Cabinski. "You can sing in the chorus, madame, since you are unable to sing a role."
"Oh no! … Just for that I am going to sing it! … I don't care a snap for these vile intrigues!"
"Who are you saying that to?" cried Cabinska, jumping up from her chair. "Well, to you, if you like."
"You are dismissed from the company!" interposed Cabinski.
"Oh, go to the devil, all of you!" shouted Nicolette throwing the role into Cabinski's face. "It's known long ago that in your company there is no place for a respectable woman!"
"Get out of here, you adventuress!"
Cabinska sprang at her, but halfway across she stopped short and burst into tears.
"On the right there is a sofa … it will be more comfortable for you to faint on, Madame Directress!" called someone from the chairs.
The company smiled with set faces.
"Pepa! … my wife! … calm yourself. … For God's sake can't we ever do any thing without these continual rumpuses!"
"Am I the cause of it?"
"I'm not blaming you … but you could at least calm yourself … there's no reason for you acting this way!"
"So