nk. The subject is the
dead woman in the church of St. Agnes. Some one had placed a lily in
her hand. He hopes that nobody will ever dare to place a lily in his!
There are long silences; significant pauses. Through the open window
he looks into the church. He sees the dead woman, laid out on a
gold-embroidered cloth. On her breast is a cross of diamonds.

More long silences; more significant pauses. He must possess that
diamond cross. Why not? He hated the dead woman. He would steal into
the church and rob the body; nay, more, he would hurl insults at it.
_Toinette_ has the crucifix. Perhaps it is that; perhaps it is the
awakening of some forgotten instinct within her. The horror of the
man's intention convulses her. There is a terrible conflict between
the two. It is the very intensity of drama. The audience, wrought up,
holds its breath. Then _Toinette_, by a ruse, escapes from the man,
and, rushing from the dwelling, gives an alarm. The bells ring, in
wildest chime. _Michel_ realizes that he is trapped; that the woman
has undone him. He goes after her, finds her, brings her back. He
wrestles with her, forces her back upon the rude couch, and plunges
his knife into her throat.

The stage is in darkness. Yet you can dimly see him hovering over the
body; you watch him in a sort of fascination, as he washes the blood
from his hands, and then furtively, in the silence, steals away.
_Toinette_ lies, extended on the couch, motionless--dead. From the
window the light from St. Agnes creeps into the room. It is cast
tenderly over _Toinette's_ body, which it irradiates strangely as the
curtain falls slowly.

One must "describe" plays, even when in so doing one runs the risk of
doing them an injustice. My recital of the story of "A Light from St.
Agnes" sounds bald, as I recall the effect that the play produced. I
insist that never for one moment was it "morbid" or unnecessarily
horrible. It rang true, without one hysterical intonation. It was
sincere, dignified, artistic, beautiful. It was admirably staged; it
was acted by John Mason, William B. Mack and Fernanda Eliscu with
exquisite appeal.

Mrs. Fiske scored heavily as a playwright. There were two other
one-act dramas from her pen--"The Rose" and "The Eyes of the Heart."
The latter made an excellent impression, but it was in "A Light from
St. Agnes" that she stamped herself indelibly upon the season.

FOR BOOK LOVERS

Archibald Lowery Sessions

Practical