The Great Sarah
I awoke in a daze of disorientation, taking a moment to stir and flutter my eyelashes. When I finally opened my eyes, I was met by the sight of Marie and several of the other girls hovering over me, their faces reflecting worry. I took a moment to draw in a few deep breaths, then laughed at the absurdity of having passed out.
It wasn't uncommon for the stays of the corsets to become too tight, but I had never been faint of heart like a lot of the others, and I attributed it logically to the fact it must have been the exertion of performing, combined with nerves.
"Oh, these silly costumes."
"All right, you girls, let's get back out there and make these gents thirsty," the stage manager called to the others as he hurried over to where we were.
"Problems?" he asked Marie, glancing between us.
"Nothing for you to be worried about," she responded bluntly.
"Let's not stand around, then," he said, then bustled away.
Anything that might have been said afterward was unknown to me, as I felt a dry itching in my throat, and turned to cough into a handkerchief Marie held for me. Recovering, I looked back up at the ceiling, before sitting up. I had a client to meet, after all, so there really was no use sitting around.
Marie helped me to change out of my costume from the number, and I slipped a long red dress over my head, watching the crimson skirt fall about me in a waterfall of silk. Marie moved to lace it up, while I tugged on a pair of black satin gloves, and began to fix my makeup, lightly dusting on more rouge to hide the slight pallor I'd taken on following my brief fainting spell.
"That twinkle-toes Duke has really taken the bait, girl," she said, yanking hard on the strings of the laces, prompting me to gasp with the effort of having the corset laced so tightly. "With a patron like him, you'll be the next Sarah Bernhardt."
My next gasp was not from the tightening of the dress, however, but more from the suggestion that I could compare to the actress whom I idolized. I knew not when I had come to admire Sarah Bernhardt so much, only that she was everything I aspired to be – a famous actress.
I glanced at the black and white photograph of her that was tucked into a corner of my mirror, asking in almost scandalized surprise, "Do you really think so, Marie? I'd do anything if I could be like the great Sarah."
"Well, why not?" she asked, as if such an idea was not far from reality. "You have the talent. You hook that Duke and you'll be lining up the great stages of Europe."
"I'm going to be a real actress, Marie," I stated, resolutely – and yet at the same time, with a tone of wonder. "A great actress. And I'm going to fly away from here."
I turned to the little bird that chirped away in its cage alongside my dressing table. "Oh, yes, we're going to fly, fly away from here."
Harold came running backstage a second later, asking, "Duckling, is everything all right?"
I turned around to face him, brushing off the concern much in the way I always had. My mood had lightened considerably from earlier, and I responded in a tone of confident reassurance, "Oh, yes, of course, Harold."
"Oh, thank goodness," he said, sounding relieved, and moved on to the topic more closely at hand – and to him, no doubt, that was really more important.
"You certainly wove your magic with that Duke on the dance floor."
I smiled and posed dramatically, a hand behind my head. "How do I look? Smoldering temptress?"
"Oh, my little strawberry!" Harold exclaimed. "How can he resist from gobbling you up?"
We indulged in an admittedly childish dance with each other – though we were, by then, far too enthusiastic to care – and Harold went on to note, "Everything's going so well!"
And so it was, so straight off to the elephant I went.