William Somerset Maugham 20 страница

order what she had had in mind ever since the end of the second

act. She felt she deserved a treat to celebrate her triumph, and for

once she meant to throw prudence to the winds.

" Grilled steak and onions, Angelo, fried potatoes, and a bottle of

Bass. Give it me in a silver tankard. "

She probably hadn't eaten fried potatoes for ten years. But what

an occasion it was! By a happy chance on this day she had confir-

med her hold on the public by a performance that she could only

describe as scintillating, she had settled an old score, by one ingeni-

ous device disposing of Avice and making Tom see what a fool he

had been, and best of all had proved to herself beyond all question

that she was free from the irksome bonds that had oppressed her.

Her thought flickered for an instant round Avice.

" Silly little thing to try to put a spoke in my wheel. * I'll let her ha-

ve her laughs tomorrow. "

The oysters came and she ate them with enjoyment. She ate two

pieces of brown bread and butter with the delicious sense of imperil-

ling her immortal soul, and she took a long drink from the silver tan-

kard.

" Beer, glorious beer, " she murmured.

She could see Michael's long face if he knew what she was doing.

Poor Michael who imagined she had killed Avice's scene because

she thought he was too attentive to that foolish little blonde. Really,

it was pitiful how stupid men were. They said women were vain,

they were modest violets in comparison with men. She could not but

laugh when she thought of Tom. He had wanted her that afternoon,

he had wanted her still more that night. It was wonderful to think

that he meant no more to her than a stage-hand. * It gave one a

grand feeling of confidence to be heart-whole.

The room in which she sat was connected by three archways with

the big dining-room where they supped and danced; amid the crowd

doubtless were a certain number who had been to the play. How

surprised they would be if they knew that the quiet little woman in

the corner of the adjoining room, her face half hidden by a felt hat,

was Julia Lambert. It gave her a pleasant sense of independence to

sit there unknown and unnoticed. They were acting a play for her

and she was the audience. She caught brief glimpses of them as

they passed the archway, young men and young women, young

men and women not so young, men with bald heads and men with

fat bellies, old harridans* clinging desperately to their painted semb-

lance of youth. Some were in love, and some were jealous, and so-

me were indifferent.

Her steak arrived. It was cooked exactly as she liked it, and the

onions were crisp and brown. She ate the fried potatoes delicately,

with her fingers, savouring each one as though it were the passing

moment that she would bid delay.

" What is love beside steak and onions? " she asked. It was enc-

hanting to be alone and allow her mind to wander. She thought once

more of Tom and spiritually shrugged a humorous shoulder. " It was

an amusing experience. "

It would certainly be useful to her one of these days. The sight of

the dancers seen through the archway was so much like a scene in

a play that she was reminded of a notion that she had first had in St.

Malo. The agony that she had suffered when Tom deserted her re-

called to her memory Racine's Phedre which she had studied as a

girl with old Jane Taitbout. She read the play again. The torments

that afflicted Theseus' queen were the torments that afflicted her,

and she could not but think that there was a striking similarity in

their situations. That was a part she could act; she knew what it felt

like to be turned down by a young man one had a fancy for. Gosh,

what a performance she could give! She knew why in the spring she

had acted so badly that Michael had preferred to close down; it was

because she was feeling the emotions she portrayed. That was no

good. You had to have had the emotions, but you could only play

them when you had got over them. She remembered that Charles

had once said to her that the origin of poetry was emotion recollec-

ted in tranquillity. She didn't know anything about poetry, but it was

certainly true about acting.

" Clever of poor old Charles to get hold of an original idea like that.

It shows how wrong it is to judge people hastily. One thinks the aris-

tocracy are a bunch of nitwits, and then one of them suddenly co-

mes out with something like that that's so damned good it takes yo-

ur breath away. "

But Julia had always felt that Racine had made a great mistake in

not bringing on his heroine till the third act.

" Of course I wouldn't have any nonsense like that if I played it.

Half an act to prepare my entrance if you like, but that's ample. "

There was no reason why she should not get some dramatist to

write her a play on the subject, either in prose or in short lines of

verse with rhymes at not too frequent intervals. She could manage

that, and effectively. It was a good idea, there was no doubt about

it, and she knew the clothes she would wear, not those flowing dra-

peries in which Sarah swathed herself, but the short Greek tunic

that she had seen on a bas-relief when she went to the British Muse-

um with Charles.

" How funny things are! You go to those museums and galleries

and think what a damned bore they are and then, when you least

expect it, you find that something you've seen comes in useful. It

shows art and all that isn't really waste of time. "

Of course she had the legs for a tunic, but could one be tragic in

one? This she thought about seriously for two or three minutes.

When she was eating out her heart for the indifferent Hippolytus

(and she giggled when she thought of Tom, in his Savile Row clot-

hes, masquerading as a young Greek hunter) could she really get

her effects without abundant draperies? The difficulty excited her.

But then a thought crossed her mind that for a moment dashed her

spirits.

" It's all very well, but where are the dramatists? Sarah had her

Sardou, Duse her D' Annunzio. But who have I got? 'The Queen of

Scots hath a bonnie bairn* and I am but a barren stock. '"

She did not, however, let this melancholy reflection disturb her

serenity for long. Her elation was indeed such that she felt capable

of creating dramatists from the vast inane as Deucalion created

men from the stones of the field.

" What nonsense that was that Roger talked the other day, and

poor Charles, who seemed to take it seriously. He's a silly little prig,

that's all. " She indicated a gesture towards the dance room. The

lights had been lowered, and from where she sat it looked more

than ever like a scene in a play. " 'All the world's a stage, and all the

men and women merely players. ' But there's the illusion, through

that archway; it's we, the actors, who are the reality. That's the ans-

wer to Roger. They are our raw material. We are the meaning of the-

ir lives. We take their silly little emotions and turn them into art, out

of them we create beauty, and their significance is that they form

the audience we must have to fulfil ourselves. They are the instru-

ments on which we play, and what is an instrument without some-

body to play on it? "

The notion exhilarated her, and for a moment or two she savo-

ured it with satisfaction. Her brain seemed miraculously lucid.

" Roger says we don't exist. Why, it's only we who do exist. They

are the shadows and we give them substance. We are the symbols

of all this confused, aimless struggling that they call life, and it's

only the symbol which is real. They say acting is only make-believe.

That make-believe is the only reality. "

Thus Julia out of her own head framed anew the platonic theory of

ideas. It filled her with exultation. She felt a sudden wave of friendli-

ness for that immense anonymous public, who had being only to gi-

ve her opportunity to express herself. Aloof on her mountain top she

considered the innumerable activities of men. She had a wonderful

sense of freedom from all earthly ties, and it was such an ecstasy

that nothing in comparison with it had any value. She felt like a spi-

rit in heaven.

The head waiter came up to her with an ingratiating smile.

" Everything all right, Miss Lambert? "

" Lovely. You know, it's strange how people differ. Mrs. Siddons

was a rare one for chops; I'm not a bit like her in that; I'm a rare one

for steaks. "

Commentary

p. 4. Chippendale - elegant style of furniture of the 18th century

Nemo me impune lacessit (bat. ) - Nobody can offend me without

impunity

p. 5. Homburg - man's hat with curled brim

p. 12. K. C. - King's Councel (lawyer's title)

p. 15. beaute du diable - devilish beauty

p. 16. laudable - praiseworthy

p. 24. indiarubber - (here) smooth

p. 25. before you could say knife - very quickly, in a moment

p. 27. paragrapher - (here) newspaper observer

p. 39. stucco - (here) covered with plaster or cement

p. 42. footman - liveried servant for attending at door or table

p. 43. pop - bubbling alcoholic drink

p. 47. pop up - drop in for a moment

p. 50. ninepins - kind of skittles

p. 57. bob - small coin of five pence

tight-wad - pack of banknotes

p. 59. care two straws - care only a little

p. 60. ortfan-grinder - player of mechanical organ

p. 62. G. H. Q. - General Headquarters

p. 69. notoriety - unfavourable fame

p. 71. - see page 4

p. 72. Vous Vavez voulu, Gerges Dandin (Fr. ) - You wanted this,

Georges Dandin.

p. 74. Lor lumme (coll. ) - Lord, love me

p. 75. bagful of - lot of

lay on smth. with trowel - exaggerate smth.

p. 77. dud - (here) failure

into the bargain - in addition to

p. 78. take smb. down a peg or two - humiliate smb.

p. 80. whack - (here) share

p. 83. blue as the devil - very gloomy

p. 94. crumpet - flat soft cake eaten with butter

p. 98. loquatious - talkative

p. 105. videlicet (hat. ) - taking into account

p. 117. musty - stale (not fresh)

chemin de fer (Fr. ) - railway, (here) game in casino

p. 122. get back with the milk - (here) come back the

next morning

p. 126. fluff - light soft substance

p. 128. backgammon - game played on double board with pieces

moved according to throw of dice

p. 129. back a horse - (here) make choice

cajolery - persuasion

p. 132. hobbledehoy - young fellow

p. 136. tee - cleared space from which golf ball is struck

at beginning of play for each hole

p. 137. punt - flat-bottomed shallow boat

p. 146. organdie - fine transparent muslin

make chichi with smb. - flirt with smb.

p. 150. cross one's tees - make smth. clear

p. 153. bezique - card game for two players

p. 160. green fees - tip, gratuity

p. 173. pip-squeak - insignificant or contemptible person or thing

p. 178. co-respondent - person responsible for adultery

with respondent in divorce case

p. 187. understudy - (here) actor who is ready to

substitute another one in his absence

p. 191. binge - drinking-bout

p. 197. RADA - Royal Academy of Dramatic Art

p. 203. can't do anything for toffee - do smth. haphazardly

or unsuccessfully

p. 209. cad - person who behaves dishonourably

p. 221. barnstorming - actor's travel through provincial areas

p. 226. Ma fille, la plus grande actrice d'Angleterre (Fr. ) -

My daughter, she's the greatest actress in England

p. 228. crochet - make needlework in which yarn is looped into

pattern of stitches by means of hooked needle

sou - French five-centime coin

p. 230. tisane - barely-water (decoction)

soutien-gorge (Fr. ) - bra, brassiere

p. 231. c'est de la folie (Fr. ) - that is stupid

c'est vraiment pas raisonnable, ma fille (Fr. ) - that is really not re-

asonable, my daughter

en bross - brush-like

p. 233. takings - money taken in business

p. 234. be at one's beck and call - be at one's service immediately

upon request

p. 237. bis dat qui cito dat (hat. ) - immediate gift has double price

p. 253. scone - small soft cake of flour

p. 254. port-looking - saucy, impudent

p. 259. cantankerous - quarrelsome

p. 266. obsequious - servile

p. 275. verisimilitude - appearance of being true

p. 276. dress-rehearsal - final rehearsal

p. 286. latchkey - key of outer door

p. 287. denouement (Fr. ) - final resolution in play

p. 296. put spoke in one's wheel - hinder one's purposes

stage-hand - person handling scenery in theatre

p. 297. harridan - bad-tempered old woman

p. 299. bonnie bairn (Scotch) - good-looking child