an, on," and it was my
time to fulfil my mission. I remember how broad a gap the green floor of
the stage made to the shining tin foot-lights; how the thousand brassy,
mocking eyes were centred on the lean figure that moved forward; how I
heard a weak quaver going up, and knew it to be my own voice: I remember
nothing more until the scene was ended: the test and last scene of the
opera it had been: and as the curtain fell, it was stopped by a faint,
dismal hiss that grew slowly louder and more venomous, was mingled with
laughs and jeers from the gallery, and the play was damned. I stood with
my white gauze and bony body and rouge behind a pasteboard flower-vase,
and looked out at the laughing mob of faces. This was the world; I had
done my best head-work for it, and even these plebeian brains had found
it unfit for use, and tossed it aside. I waited there a moment, and then
passing Monsieur, whose puffy face was purple with disappointment and
rage, went into the dressing-room.

"What wonder?" I heard him demand in French. "It was so coarse a theft!
But I hoped the catch-dresses would pass it off."

I wrapped a flannel cloak over my airy robes, and went out, down the
crooked back-stairs into the street. I had no money; if I went back to
the hotel where I had been stopping, it would be as a beggar.

I waited outside of the theatre by an old woman's candy-stand for the
crowd to hustle past, holding myself up by her chair-back. She was
nodding, for it was past midnight, but opened her red eyes to lift a
little child on her knees who had been asleep at her feet.

"Come, Puss, the play's out, it's time for you an' Granny to be snug at
home."

I laughed. Why, there was not one of these women or men crowding by, the
very black beggar holding your horse, who had not a home, a child to
touch, to love them,--not one. And I--I had my Self. I had developed
that.

I pulled the cloak closer about me and went down the pavement. The
street was thronged with street-cars stopping for the play-goers, hacks,
and omnibuses; the gas flamed in red and green letters over the
house-fronts; the crowd laughed and swayed and hummed snatches of songs,
as they went by. I saw one or two husbands drawing the wrappings tighter
about their wives' throats, for the air was sharp. My husband had seen
my shoulders to-night,--so had they all, covered with chalk. There were
children, too, cuddling close to their mothers' sides in the carriages.
I wonder