Short Story

Hawera Star, Volume XLVII, 23 June 1928, Page 9

Short Story

NO ONE CAN SAY FOR CERTAIN.

'‘You are \ ery kind, m sieur, but I couldn’t marry \ou. ’ l'vette turned tier ,luuy head to one bide, anil opening her mouth smiled delight!ully up at Ins serious, reiuied lace: “lou sn*, it 1 did marry you, \ou would want me to give up my dancing, and .1 could not do that. You would want me to live vour conventional midale-chnss respectability, and gLe up all my good frienus. They may not be used to tin: life you are used to, and to your une manners, your culture, your way of doing always what is right. 13ut they are still my* good friends—my very good friends. Again. 1 say it is extremely kind of you, hut i cannot do as you ask.” i-ranelaut's fate grew more grave, and he bent towards the little uancer as if he would take her in his arms, but she drew away ironi him and walked o>er to a chair. ■VI hnew that yon would misiuider*La ml me,” he replied. “Perhaps 1 should not have been so blunt. But wliv are you content to keep to this empty lire, and to make yourself a show" lor the gaping crowds ? it is all so—what s.a.l i say:—iutile, unavailing.” He hesitated. ”1 almost said sordid.” . An expression of annoyance passed over Yvette’s lace, and she looked at him defiantly. “Do not be cross,” Franelaut pleaded. “There is so much I want to say to you. But I say it so clumsily.” •‘Not only clumsily, but- rudely, she answered “What you really want is that I should leave the stage, leave itiv companions, become your good, obedient wife, the mother of your dear, sweet-natnred little children— they, would surelv bo sweet-natured wouldn t Lhey ?—in sliort, that i should become, prim, sedate, gentle, lifeless, and j wholly uninteresting. Well, l am great-j ]v- honoured, m’sieur, but, as 1 have already said twice, I cannot marry j franelaut was obviously pained, and; Yvette, not wishing to .offend him too deeply, changed her mood and began to tease him. “Now. my dear m’sieur. do not be so glum. Do not waste your, thoughts over a poor tittle dancer. who ( is just a nobody, and who only wants to‘flit about here and there, and to win the praise and the cheers o: the' good Parisians.” , She walked back to the sofa- on which lie was sitting, am sut beside him. She p aced her hand on his knee. “I I you don t smile I i shall laiirli at you. and you do so hate being laughed at, don t yen: -- Franelaut rose from tlie suia. and taking Ids hat from her dressing table, turned and faced her. "Yvette, he said, softly, “you will net or know my feelings towards you. will not be serious to-night. But you must Jet me see you again, You must listen to me.”

Yvette poised on the tips of her shoes for a second, a thing of dainty, almost faery imagery. Her flatly, golden hair glistened in the strong white glare o. the electric globe above the mirror, and her wide, dancing eyes sparkled with the spirit- of mischief.' tier pretty, warm, red lips were parted slightly, showing a perfect row. of .teeth. Just Hr a moment franelaut s.i ,v a vision of loveliness floating, as it se.tned. in a mass o: soft, filmy, j billowy snow. The next moment the 1 v ision had gone, and lie felt the aarnith of suit lingers on his face, and the hot press of a soft mouth upon his lips. He gasped at- the supple, enhanting foim in front of linn; but Y.ette. with • a little laugh escaped. "There,” slip said, "that's just to remember me' by. (food night.” With 'a disconsilatc shrug oi Jiis shoulders Franelaut took his black silver cane, and went through the door. To learn the beginning of the events which led to the somewhat romantic s ene that lias just been described, it is necessary to go back a month or so to a col l, cheerless night, on which r ranelaut for the first time entered the Theatre Bageliere Y'ou who are familiar with Paris know the rather pietentious little building that stands in a side street off the Rue de Mordesant. You who- know only the parts of Paris that are visited by the ordinary tourist have possibly never heard of the pla:e. For all that, it has a certain renown. It is what might be dcscrii ed as a second rate, or, perhaps, a slight y third rate vaudeville house, its amliomes consist mainly of the easy-going, hearty, Pari sans who do the more - menial tasks of the great city, and who, while not followers ol what the critica-P would call the highest standards of art, know what they want, and show loud and eloquent disapproval if it is not provided for them. Franelaut on this particular night was impelled by that restlessness which o casionally besLs the most unimaginative people to wander from his lod ings aimlessly round the city. It, was only by chance that he fond himself in the llue de Mordesant just as s me of the patrons of the little theatre —wc shall give them that digc,i oil name, for it will flatter their ■ unity - were leaving it for the interval. Franelaut w'jns bored, but liesuddenly decided that the novelty ol attending a performance at such a Immble place of entertainment might gi e some zest to a very dull evening. feeling that he was rather reluctantly committing a crime against tliCj canons of good taste lie paid the door-; keeper' two trnnos, which he hoped would duly find their way to tliol managerial treasury, and took 1 a seat] in the stalls. The estimable patrons j re-entered the theatre, the orchestra' lie an to play, and the lights were extinguished. Franelaut several times stifled a polite yawn during the first turn, given by a more or less uiihunior ous comedian, whose patter of crude

witticisms was delivered at a terrific rate, which seemed to amuse the remainder ot the audience. He was even more ill at ease while a conjuror was trying to demonstrate the falsity of most principles of optics and physics, it was not until the orchestra began to play ,Saint Saen’s well-worn “La eigne” that he felt any interest in the proceedings. He thought that perhaps at last there might he something worth Matching. Presently from the wings of the stage there glided a dainty figure balanced on its. toes, the body swaying gently as in a breeze. Then began the dance which lie had seen so many times before in so many more comfortable and better ventilated places. Franeiaut was fascinated, not Uy the dancing—that was mediocre, and the dancer made many careless mistakes—but by the splendid beauty o: the young girl who was moving about the stage. To him she made an irreslible appeal, although he murmured to himself that she was probably only a midiuette who made a iew extra shillings by accepting engagements at the various theatres at night time. He watched her every movement intently until the shot was fired o!F the stage—there was always the shot, lie reflected, and it always seemed <rud,o although there did not seem any way of doing without it—and he saw the beautiful body stagger, and gradually swoon to the floor. Then as the last two bars of the music faded away, and the curtain descended, the audience burst into loud . applause. Franeiaut joined enthusiastically in the hand-clapping. The curtain was raised, and the gill, Hushed with excitement and exertion, vivaciously bowed her thanks to the crowded auditorium. Again the curtain was lowered. Apparently there Avas to be no encore. Franeiaut rose from his seat and walked out of the theatre. Having reached the lootpath lie stood looking up and do-wn the. street, lie then decided that he Avonld do what he had never done he.ore. He had never sent his card in to a theatrical artist, but no artist had ever made such an inexplicable impression upon him as this one had clone. He therefore sent his card in by the stage-door keeper, and in a few' minutes received word that '• Vizimovscka, the world’s greatest , lassie;;l danCer,” as she was billed, would see him. It was not until later that Franeiaut. the ender son of that Kranelaut avlio in the Semite had denounced Guesdc and the socialists in the ’eighties, and had declaimed against the Radicals 'after the fall ol .I ides Ferry, learned that the little dancer, Avith the high-sounding title, was just Yvette, and that she lived in an apartment in a shabby squarefronted house that had once been Avhite 11 nd had once had fresh green shutters. It was alter that that Yvette dined sec era! nights following Avith Franeiaut when her work at the theatre was ended and that she had laughed her way into his serious head and filled his heart witii a deep longing for her beauty.

It was not until the sound of Franehiut's steps had disappeared down the passage after his dismissal that Yvette felt souy for him. Not that she could every feel sorry for anybody. For real s. now implies a certain amount ol spirituality. and Yvette was not spiritual. If she had been so she would not have had to learn her living at the Theatre Bageliere. Slie had every attribute ‘of a dancer but. brains, and to attain success among the 1 itvst rank of dancers brains are as necessary as light hounding feet. Yvette was not only uuspiritual; she was selfish. She was also extremelv vain. And her

vanity caused her many disappointments.. She could not understand why j the manager of the Casino de Paris: would not accept her at her oavii a alu- j a Lion. Put despite her disappoint-' merits she was determined and ambitious. She was sure that she would one j •Jay reach the top of the tree. It did ' nor surprise her that Franeiaut should propose to her. She had expected that no Avonld. but she knew from remarks that lie had made previously that he did not like here earning money as she | did. If when he had asked her to marry him, he had been Avilling to allow her to remain a dancer, and to continue her friendships, she. would i probably have accepted him. He Avas wealthy, he had inrluence, and he tmdoultcdiy avus in love with her. But she would never give up her idea of making her own career. Then there uus Robert- Delanschel. Robert Avas a trapezist who often appeared at the P.agliere, He was. a good ielloAV, and he had proposed to her. Se was fond of him, and he had no foolish qualms about her being a professional dancer, hut he Avas a spendthrift, always Avitliout money, and would probably be more a hindrance than a help to her in making her Avay in the Avorld. So lie had rejected Robert, and had dismissed Franeiaut, and was still independent to do as she Avillecl. Poor Robert, Ihe had taker, it badly, hut what would you':' One did not* marry merely to make a man content. So thought Yvette as she changed into her street dress, and so she continued to .think as she later blerv out the candle beside her bed and nestled down among the hospitable sheets.

There is much truth in the not very profound saying that if avc could read the future our present decisions would o ten he different from what they are. And if Yrette had knoAvn that there would be a change in the management of the Ragliere shortly, and that she would be affected by it, she might have dallied aAvhile Avith _ Franeiaut, •and might even have married Robert. But she did not think of such things as she nestled still further down among the hospitable sheets.

Several AveeksV after Franeiaut had left her dressing-room, and, despite his ardour, had not tried to see her again, evidently realising that it was undignified to he laughed at, the Lange took place at the Bagliere. Andrea Friole, the manager, had accepted a position in London, and Simeon Lav-euier was appointed in his stead.

To Yvette it did not seem Jong bebore Lavenier became the most intolerant person on earth. Whereas Friole had not woiried much about the work o the artists, leaving this almost solely to the rather easy-going stage manager, Lavenier took a- keen personal interest in eveiry thing eonmected with the theatre. He watched the ari i As at rehearsal, and did not hesitate to criti.-i.se them frankly. He had even (old Yvette that she. was no more a dan er than he was. whereupon Yvette, looking at his solid bulk, burst into leais. Alter that it appeared to her that lavenier took every opportunity t > annoy her. This, of course, was liielly b:cause she was so vain. Had she been willing to accept some of the sound advice that Lavenier gave her, she would have benefited, but- because sbe disliked him she resented it and refused it.

One morning, about five weeks after Lavenier went to the Bageliere. Yvette was practising when lie went down into the stalls.' He watched her for several minutes and suddenly called out to her ‘‘.Don’t hold your hands so stilly, stand up a trifle longer on your toes.”

It so happened that at that moment Yvette was in a particularly irritable mood She had been trying for a long while to stand longer on her toes, and had been practising hard for an hour or so before Lavenier appeared. His words galled her, and in his temper she shouted: "Go to the devil, you’re \ our ’re—you’re a big fat pig.” A second later she regretted what she had said. Lavenier IroAvned, but merely replied: ‘‘ls that sop Well, vve shall not Avant you after Saturday might.” They did not engage artists on contract at the Bageliere. Yvette danced for four more nights, and then said good-bye to Lavenier and the preteu tious little building. In the days that followed, YA-ette had even more cause to regret her hasty temper. Her Av-a-ges at the Bageliere'—they were hardly large enough to call salary—had not enabled her to save- much, and there did- not seem any immediate prospect of getting other work. She had been told that there might be something at the Cafe'Oranez in three or four months, but that wa-s a long way * ahead when one’s funds were scanty. She had tried to obtai i employment as a Avaitress, or as a. shop-girl, as she had done on |.renews occasions between engagements; lot. notwithstanding her good 10-0.-s, every position in Paris seemed. to be filled The situation was becoming desperate. when one morning,, two mouths after she had left the Bageliere, h a cite received a letter from hi. Cne.-ar Faileraml. manager of the Theatre Canson in. which had kr many yea’s men a rival to the- Bageliere. She had apulied to Fallerand for an engagement the week after Lavenier bad dismissed her, but there had been no opening. Now Fallerand informed her that liecouhl engage her for eight Aveeks. That she remembered, would just about fill in the time lie-fore she went to the Cafe Oranez. assuming that the work there did become available.

Yvette 0 accepted Fallerand’s offer eagerly, a'ncl, much chastened in spirit, determined to take more pains with Iter dancing, and to act on advice when it was given to her. She apnea red at the Cnnsonin on the following Saturday. The audience cheered her loudly, and Fallerand tokl her that lie was very pleased with her. Fallerand was, judging hv his npnearance, a little more than 60, and he was a cheery soul, hie had, if report were true, been .somewhat of a gallant in his day. but he had now settled down to a comparatively quietlife. He nevertheless retained his admiration for a beautiful or smartly dressed woman. This probably accountled for his unusually deep interest in Yvette, an interest of which she was rot unaware, and which, despite Fallerand’s age, she did not find unwelcome. For Fallerand was, after all, the manager, and it might be as well to court his favour. In addition, he was a fatherly old fellow, and she liked him. There was something warming in his round, healthy, brightly coloured (arc and in his smiling face. His grey hair tos ciliated her. It certainly gave him dignity. Yietto had been at the Craosonin for nearly five weeks, when Fallerand aske.l her one night to have supper with him. She agreed, to do so, and they drove to a cabaret several streets away from the theatre. Suppers fol--1 .wed on other nights, and on a Sunday at term on they went tor a walk in the L’ois de Boulogne. So the days passed until the last week of Yvette’s engagement. Yvette’s experience of men had led her to believe that Fallemmi intended asking her to marry him. and she had debated in her mind whether she would do so. That would

depend on several things. She would hate to give up dancing, but it was no good being a dancer it nobody wanted you. The manager of the Oranez Avas not yet certain Avhether he could give her any work. But, perhaps, somebody else could, and she did love the applause of those she danced for. It was even worth while working in a shop or a restaurant between the interval -> in her engagements. In some suen form Avere Yvette’s thoughts running as she sat opposite Fallerand .in their favourite corner in the caie two nights before her engagement. ended. Suddenly Fallerand’s voice broke in oh her meditations.

•‘What are you looking so serious about?” he asked. ‘•1 didn’t knoAV that I was looking serious,” she replied. He hesitated, and loAverecl his voice. •‘You've only got- two more nights,” he added, ‘‘and then you’re going to leave me. ‘‘Well, I only came for eight weeks, didn’t I?” she said, smiling. ‘‘Won't you stay longer?” asked Fallerand. •‘That depends entirely on you,” she fenced, realising that the- moment was coming. ‘‘lf you care to extend my engagement I shall be pleased to stay, and I will think it very good of you.’ Ac ain she smiled at him. “Y\ette.” he said, suddenly, “you know as.-well as I do that I Avant you to marry me. Will you? You knoAv I lo\e you, and would do anything i could * lor you. I suppose you think I hi an old' fogey, but don’t laugh at me on that account.” •‘i’m not laughing at you. I think you’re the dearest old thing imaginable. But, I don’t think I could ever marry. You see I Avant to make » career. If i married you you Avould want me to give up all idea of that.” •‘Not unless you Avanted to. . But I wouldn’t like to go- away alone, and 1 couldn’t travel Avith you. I Avould be too busy lor that.” “Would you let me dance at your theatre sometimes —only sometimes — when I Avanted to?” Yvette questioned. ”Yes, of course. “You can do as you like if you marry me,” lie answered ‘‘You are so beautiful I cnilchi’t refuse you anything.” And so M: Caesar Fallerand, the Caesar havjng adopted in his youthful days Avhen he Avas a singer of some note, laid his heart at the feet of little Yvette Avith words so lavish tlia-t they would seem foolish to anyone for Avhose ears they were not intended. But, as this is a true story and- all the relevant iacts should be recorded, it ought to be mentioned that-, he told Yvette that he had married previously, and that his first wife had eloped six years ago with a young Italian tenor, leaving him with two baby girls. The elder of these Avas now nine and the second seven. He ha 1 obtained a divorce from his wife, and had given his love to his tAvo little daughters. If Yvette avgulcl share that love and not object to the small girls, he would be the happiest man in Christendom.

Yvette did not at first like the idea of the daughters, but she weighed them in the balance against the. other advantages, and. decided to become Madame Fallerand. And as Fallergnd walked with her to her home from the cafe, and kissed her in his big-heart-ed, fatherly way before saying good night at the door, she was supremely happy. So it cameabout that Yvette found a comfortable home, and an adoring husband, and banished all need for future care. And she could return to her dancing whenever she felt like doing so, although after she had been married two years, she said she would

never go back to the stage, because she was so contended where she was. i.ut before she achieved such contentment she had been dismissed by Lavenier from the Theatre B-ageliere. Which seems to suggest that the: gods always arrange matters for the best, and that there might be, after all, some thing in Maeterlinck’s saying that there is, perhapis, no such thing as the occurrence of a purposeless event. —P. L. Conigrave in the “Australasian.”