While they were chatting with her, there suddenly bounded on to the
stage from some mysterious inlet, a little girl in a dirty white frock,
with tucks up to the knees, short trousers, sandalled shoes, white
spencer, pink gauze bonnet, green veil and curl papers, who turned a
pirouette, then looking off in the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded
forward to within six inches of the footlights, and fell into a
beautiful attitude of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an old pair of
buff slippers came in at one powerful slide, and chattering his teeth
fiercely, brandished a walking-stick.
"They are going through, 'The Indian Savage and the Maiden,'" said Mrs.
Crummles.
"Oh!" said the manager, "the little ballet interlude. Very good. Go on.
A little this way, if you please, Mr. Johnson. That'll do. Now!"
The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed, and the Savage,
becoming ferocious, made a slide towards the Maiden; but the Maiden
avoided him in six twirls, and came down, at the end of the last one,
upon the very points of her toes. This seemed to make some impression
upon the Savage, for after a little more ferocity and chasing of the
Maiden into corners, he began to relent, and stroked his face several
times with his right thumb and forefingers, thereby intimating that he
was struck with admiration of the Maiden's beauty. Acting upon the
impulse of this passion, he began to hit himself severe thumps in the
chest, and to exhibit other indications of being desperately in love,
which, being rather a prosy proceeding, was very likely the cause of the
Maiden's falling asleep; whether it was or no, asleep she did fall,
sound as a church, on a sloping bank, and the Savage, perceiving it,
leant his left ear on his left hand, and nodded sideways, to intimate to
all whom it might concern that she _was_ asleep, and no shamming.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107