The Regent

by Arnold Bennett

  IV

  "Won't you cam up to Miss April's dressing-room?" said Mr. Harrier,who in the midst of the fulminating applause after the second actseemed to be inexplicably standing over him, having appeared in aninstant out of nowhere like a genie.

  The fact was that Edward Henry had been gently and innocently dozing.It was in part the deep obscurity of the auditorium, in part his ownphysical fatigue, and in part the secret nature of poetry that hadbeen responsible for this restful slumber. He had remained awakewithout difficulty during the first portion of the act, in which ElsieApril--the orient pearl--had had a long scene of emotion and tears,played, as Edward Henry thought, magnificently in spite of itsinherent ridiculousness; but later, when gentle Haidee had vanishedaway and the fateful troubadour-messenger had begun to resumeher announcements of "The woman appears," Edward Henry's soul hadmiserably yielded to his body and to the temptation of darkness. Theupturned lights and the ringing hosannahs had roused him to a fullsense of sin, but he had not quite recovered all his faculties whenMarrier startled him.

  "Yes, yes! Of course! I was coming," he answered a little petulantly.But no petulance could impair the beaming optimism on Mr. Harrier'sfeatures. To judge by those features, Mr. Marrier, in addition tohaving organized and managed the soiree, might also have written thepiece and played every part in it, and founded the Azure Society andbuilt its private theatre. The hour was Mr. Marrier's.

  Elise April's dressing-room was small and very thickly populated, andthe threshold of it was barred by eager persons who were half in andhalf out of the room. Through these Mr. Marrier's authority forced away. The first man Edward Henry recognized in the tumult of bodieswas Mr. Rollo Wrissell, whom he had not seen since their meeting atSlossons.

  "Mr. Wrissell," said the glowing Marrier, "let me introduce Mr.Alderman Machin, of the Regent Theatah."

  "Clumsy fool!" thought Edward Henry, and stood as if entranced.

  But Mr. Wrissell held out a hand with the perfection of urbaneinsouciance.

  "How d'you do, Mr. Machin?" said he. "I hope you'll forgive me for nothaving followed your advice."

  This was a lesson to Edward Henry. He learnt that you should nevershow a wound, and if possible never feel one. He admitted that insuch details of social conduct London might be in advance of the FiveTowns, despite the Five Towns' admirable downrightness.

  Lady Woldo was also in the dressing-room, glorious in black. Herbeauty was positively disconcerting, and the more so on this occasionas she was bending over the faded Rose Euclid, who sat in acorner surrounded by a court. This court, comprising comparativelyuncelebrated young women and men, listened with respect to theconversation of the peeress who called Rose "my dear," the greatstar-actress, and the now somewhat notorious Five Towns character,Edward Henry Machin.

  "Miss April is splendid, isn't she?" said Edward Henry to Lady Woldo.

  "Oh! My word, yes!" replied Lady Woldo, nicely, warmly, yet with acertain perfunctoriness. Edward Henry was astonished that everybodywas not passionately enthusiastic about the charm of Elsie'sperformance. Then Lady Woldo added: "But what a part for Miss Euclid!What a part for her!"

  And there were murmurs of approbation.

  Rose Euclid gazed at Edward Henry palely and weakly. He consideredher much less effective here than in her box. But her febrile gaze waseffective enough to produce in him the needle-stab again, the feelingof gloom, of pessimism, of being gradually overtaken by an unseen andmysterious avenger.

  "Yes, indeed!" said he.

  He thought to himself: "Now's the time for me to behave like EdwardHenry Machin, and teach these people a thing or two!" But he couldnot.

  A pretty young girl summoned all her forces to address the greatproprietor of the Regent, to whom, however, she had not beenintroduced, and with a charming nervous earnest lisp said:

  "But don't you think it's a great play, Mr. Machin?"

  "Of course!" he replied, inwardly employing the most fearful andshocking anathemas.

  "We were sure _you_ would!"

  The young people glanced at each other with the satisfaction of provedprophets.

  "D'you know that not another manager has taken the trouble to comehere!" said a second earnest young woman.

  Edward Henry's self-consciousness was now acute. He would have paida ransom to be alone on a desert island in the Indian seas. He lookeddownwards, and noticed that all these bright eager persons, women andmen, were wearing blue stockings or socks.

  "Miss April is free now," said Marrier in his ear.

  The next instant he was talking alone to Elsie in another corner whilethe rest of the room respectfully observed.

  "So you deigned to come!" said Elsie April. "You did get my card."

  A little paint did her no harm, and the accentuation of her eyebrowsand lips and the calculated disorder of her hair were not more thanher powerful effulgent physique could stand. In a costume of green andsilver she was magnificent, overwhelmingly magnificent. Her varyingvoice and her glance at once sincere, timid and bold, producedthe most singular sensations behind Edward Henry's soft frilledshirt-front. And he thought that he had never been through anyexperience so disturbing and so fine as just standing in front of her.

  "I ought to be saying nice things to her," he reflected. But, no doubtbecause he had been born in the Five Towns, he could not formulate inhis mind a single nice thing.

  "Well, what do you think of it?" she asked, looking full at him, andthe glance too had a strange significance. It was as if she had said:"Are you a man, or aren't you?"

  "I think you're splendid," he exclaimed.

  "Now please!" she protested. "Don't begin in that strain. I know I'mvery good for an amateur--"

  "But really! I'm not joking."

  She shook her head.

  "What do you think of my part for Rose? Wouldn't she be tremendous init? Wouldn't she be tremendous?... What a chance!"

  He was acutely uncomfortable, but even his discomfort was somehow ajoy.

  "Yes," he admitted. "Yes."

  "Oh! Here's Carlo Trent," said she.

  He heard Trent's triumphant voice, carrying the end of a conversationinto the room: "If he hadn't been going away," Carlo Trent was saying,"Pilgrim would have taken it. Pilgrim--"

  The poet's eyes met Edward Henry's, and the sentence was neverfinished.

  "How d'ye do, Machin?" murmured the poet.

  Then a bell began to ring and would not stop.

  "You're staying for the reception afterwards?" said Elsie April as theroom emptied.

  "Is there one?"

  "Of course."

  It seemed to Edward Henry that they exchanged silent messages.