Chronicles of Clovis

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and discussion as Clytemnestra's spasmodic succession of lovers, who broke down on
probation with alarming uniformity. When the cast was at length fixed beyond hope of
reprieve matters went scarcely more smoothly. Clovis and the Baroness rather overdid
the Sumurun manner, while the rest of the company could hardly be said to attempt it at
all. As for Cassandra, who was expected to improvise her own prophecies, she appeared
to be as incapable of taking flying leaps into futurity as of executing more than a severely
plantigrade walk across the stage.
"Woe! Trojans, woe to Troy!" was the most inspired remark she could produce after
several hours of conscientious study of all the available authorities.
"It's no earthly use foretelling the fall of Troy," expostulated Clovis, "because Troy has
fallen before the action of the play begins. And you mustn't say too much about your own
impending doom either, because that will give things away too much to the audience."
After several minutes of painful brain-searching, Cassandra smiled reassuringly.
"I know. I'll predict a long and happy reign for George the Fifth."
"My dear girl," protested Clovis, "have you reflected that Cassandra specialized in
foretelling calamities?"
There was another prolonged pause and another triumphant issue.
"I know. I'll foretell a most disastrous season for the foxhounds."
"On no account," entreated Clovis; "do remember that all Cassandra's predictions came
true. The M.F.H. and the Hunt Secretary are both awfully superstitious, and they are both
going to be present."
Cassandra retreated hastily to her bedroom to, bathe her eyes before appearing at tea.
The Baroness and Clovis were by this time scarcely on speaking terms. Each sincerely
wished their respective r�le to be the pivot round which the entire production should
revolve, and each lost no opportunity for furthering the cause they had at heart. As fast as
Clovis introduced some effective bit of business for the charioteer (and he introduced a
great many), the Baroness would remorselessly cut it out, or more often dovetail it into
her own part, while Clovis retaliated in a similar fashion whenever possible. The climax
came when Clytemnestra annexed some highly complimentary lines, which were to have
been addressed to the charioteer by a bevy of admiring Greek damsels, and put them into
the mouth of her lover. Clovis stood by in apparent unconcern while the words:
"Oh, lovely stripling, radiant as the dawn," were transposed into:
"Oh, Clytemnestra, radiant as the dawn," but there was a dangerous glitter in his eye that
might have given the Baroness warning. He had composed the verse himself, inspired
and thoroughly carried away by his subject; he suffered, therefore, a double pang in
beholding his tribute deflected from its destined object, and his words mutilated and
twisted into what became an extravagant panegyric on the Baroness's personal charms. It
was from this moment that he became gentle and assiduous in his private coaching of
Cassandra.
The County, forgetting its dissensions, mustered in full strength to witness the much-
talked-of production. The protective Providence that looks after little children and
amateur theatricals made good its traditional promise that everything should be right on
the night. The Baroness and Clovis seemed to have sunk their mutual differences, and
between them dominated the scene to the partial eclipse of all the other characters, who,
for the most part, seemed well content to remain in the shadow. Even Agamemnon, with
ten years of strenuous life around Troy standing to his credit, appeared to be an
unobtrusive personality compared with his flamboyant charioteer. But the moment came
for Cassandra (who had been excused from any very definite outpourings during
rehearsals) to support her r�le by delivering herself of a few well-chosen anticipations of
pending misfortune. The musicians obliged with appropriately lugubrious wailings and
thumpings, and the Baroness seized the opportunity to make a dash to the dressing-room
to effect certain repairs in her make-up. Cassandra, nervous but resolute, came down to
the footlights and, like one repeating a carefully learned lesson, flung her remarks straight
at the audience:
"I see woe for this fair country if the brood of corrupt, self- seeking, unscrupulous,
unprincipled politicians " (here she named one of the two rival parties in the State)
"continue to infest and poison our local councils and undermine our Parliamentary
representation; if they continue to snatch votes by nefarious and discreditable means--"
A humming as of a great hive of bewildered and affronted bees drowned her further
remarks and wore down the droning of the musicians. The Baroness, who should have
been greeted on her return to the stage with the pleasing invocation, "Oh, Clytemnestra, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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