Part 14

That night, when Jules consulted Marshall, he learned what he had already surmised, that the manager was much upset by Miss King's refusal to extend her engagement on any but exorbitant terms, and though it would be completed in two weeks, he had not as yet found a sufficiently strong attraction to take her place; so he was not only willing, but glad, to renew with Blanche the contract she had at first made with him. Jules felt the more elated on being told that Miss King had not been nearly so good an attraction as his wife while giving the sensational plunge. He was in high spirits when he entered Blanche's dressing-room and told her the news. Blanche flushed with pleasure, not merely at the news, but at his affectionate manner as well; Madeleine, however, though she said nothing, seemed depressed. She had hoped that the poor child would never make that horrible dive again.

After that night Blanche was so happy that she seemed like another creature from the thin, white-faced little woman of the past few weeks. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Jules had been so different with her, she said to Mrs. Tate, since she had told him she would go on with the plunge. The night before he had taken her to the Hippodrome, and after the performance they had gone with Madeleine to a _café_; it reminded them of the days of their courtship in Paris.

The two weeks that followed were the happiest Blanche had known since those first days after the birth of her child. Jules' devotion extended not only to her, but to little Jeanne and to Madeleine as well. For several days the gloom that had wrapped the city during most of the winter lifted; the sun shone, and the feeling of spring was in the air. In the afternoons Blanche took walks with Jules in the park, and on Sunday they went to mass together and then drove out to Richmond and dined there. They agreed to pretend that they were still in their days of courtship, and Jules delighted Blanche by repeating some of the foolish speeches he had made to her in the first weeks of their love.

Then, too, they made great plans for the future. The negotiations with Hicks in New York had been broken off, but Jules had heard of an Australian manager who was in London looking for performers to appear during the following winter in Melbourne. How fine it would be if they could go out there and give performances in the chief Australian cities! Blanche, however, showed so little enthusiasm for this plan that Jules abandoned it for a time. Besides, he himself liked better the plan she suggested of returning to the _Cirque Parisien_. They might make an engagement there that would enable them to pass the winter in Paris. How good it would be to be back there again! Perhaps they could secure the little apartment in the _rue de Lisbonne_. Jules became so enthusiastic that he wrote to the manager in Paris, proposing terms. After a winter there they might think of going to Australia, where they would be much better paid than in Paris.

The thought of returning to France added to Blanche's happiness. Oh, to see her mother and Jeanne and Louise again! How good it would be! There had been times during the past few weeks when she felt as if she could not bear to be separated from them any longer. But in Paris they could come to see her; perhaps Monsieur Berthier would let her mother and the girls pass a few weeks with her. Of course, she would be with them in Boulogne for the summer. When she spoke of this to Jules, however, he said nothing. He had in mind other plans, a possible engagement at one of the French watering places; but he thought it best not to refer to this at present. He realized the importance of making as much money as possible and as quickly as possible. There was no knowing how long his wife's nerve would last. If she only held out for a few years longer, they could make a fortune in Australia and America. Then they could retire, and live comfortably in Paris for the rest of their lives. He expected to earn a great deal of money in America; but he had reasons for not speaking of that country at all for the present.

The two weeks during which Blanche was enjoying her new happiness were an exciting time for Mrs. Tate, who felt as if she were responsible for the success of her _protégée's_ return to her former place in the Hippodrome. Every day she repaired to Upper Bedford Place and held long conferences with Blanche. Everything promised well, she thought. Jules showed no signs of returning to the thraldom of Lottie King. How providential, Mrs. Tate thought, the quarrel between them had been! She did not know that, even before his break with her, Jules had begun to tire of the diver's domineering manner and of her habit of ridiculing him; moreover, he had at last perceived that she was only playing with him. This had helped to prejudice him against her performance, and as the novelty of the performance wore off, he saw that it was far inferior in daring and skill to his wife's magnificent plunge. This had never lost its fascination for him, and now, as he assisted Blanche in her daily exercises he felt the old thrill at its brilliancy and his own sense of importance in having a part in it.

On the afternoon of the day when her plunge was to be resumed, Blanche took a long rest. She was awakened by the crowing of Jeanne in the next room. She raised her hands to her head; at the thought of the ordeal of the evening, a sudden dizziness came upon her. It was more than three months since she had made the dive, and she wondered if she should be equal to it. How horrible if at the last moment she should lose her nerve! She arose quickly, hardly daring to allow herself to think, and she hurried to the child. How strong and beautiful Jeanne was! Blanche took her in her arms and pressed her closely. When Madeleine turned and lumbered out of the room, leaving them alone together, Blanche began to kiss the child passionately, and tears welled over on her cheeks. Then she bathed her face, for fear that Jules would see that she had been crying.

That night at dinner, Jules was in high spirits. "Marshall expects a big house," he said. "He's spent a lot of money advertising your dive. He thinks of getting a big poster made of you flying through the air."

During the whole of the meal Blanche was very quiet. Madeleine noticed that her eyes were shining. When it was time to go to the Hippodrome, Jules, wrapping his wife in her cloak, put his arms around her, and kissed her on the ear, as he had often done in the days of their engagement. She drew away and started for Jeanne's room.

"Where are you going?" he said.

"I want to kiss the little one good-night."

"But she's asleep!" he cried impatiently. "You mustn't wake her up."

In spite of his protest, she silently made her way into the room where the child lay, closing the door behind her. Jules listened, thinking that Jeanne would cry on being disturbed; but there was no sound. Then he knew that she was praying by the crib, and this angered him. It was about time to put a stop to her notions, he said to himself. When, a moment later, she came out, her face was covered with a thick veil, and, after glancing at her sharply, he said nothing.

On arriving at the Hippodrome, they found Mrs. Tate in the star dressing-room, which had been assigned to Blanche again.

"I have been waiting for you," Mrs. Tate said nervously. "I suppose I have no right to be here, but I felt that I _must_ see you, and I made my husband bring me. Are you quite well?"

She had observed the look of disgust given her by Jules, but this did not disturb her nearly so much as the white face that Blanche presented. Moreover, she did not feel reassured when Blanche smiled and said she felt perfectly well.

"Of course everything will be splendid. There's a tremendous crowd," Mrs. Tate added. "You'll have a great success."

Jules, after bowing coldly, had turned from the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Mrs. Tate seized Blanche by both hands and kissed her affectionately. "I mustn't keep you from dressing," she said with a smile. "Perhaps I'll come in and congratulate you when it's all over."

Blanche grew a shade paler, and Mrs. Tate hesitated at the door. "What is it?" she said.

"Nothing."

Mrs. Tate walked toward her. "Nothing?"

Blanche turned her head away. "If anything should happen," she said quietly, "the--the little one--I should like my mother to take her."

Mrs. Tate began to breathe hard; but she burst out laughing. "You silly child! Of course; I shall look after Jeanne anyway. Don't you worry about _her_. Now I must hurry out to that husband of mine. He'll be furious with me for keeping him waiting so long."

A few moments before Blanche appeared in the ring, Jules returned to the dressing-room, resplendent in his evening clothes, with three diamonds gleaming on his shirt-front, and carrying a bouquet of white roses.

"These are just like the roses I bought for you the night I met you. I selected them this afternoon, and they've just come. You must wear them in your belt, as you did then," he said, as she flushed with pleasure and thanked him. "I remember how tickled I was when I saw them; and oh, how I hated Pelletier when you took them out and gave them to him to hold, while you were going through your act."

Then, as she adjusted the flowers in her belt, he went on: "It's the biggest house of the season! Marshall says you're the best attraction he ever had. Ready?" he asked, surveying Blanche as she stood in her white silk tights. "You look just as you did when I first saw you," he added, putting one hand on her cheek and kissing her lightly on the other. "Come along."

Then he threw over her the robe she always wore on her way to the ring, and they hurried from the room. As Blanche ran out on the net and heard the applause of the vast audience, she felt a thrill of joy and an intoxicating sense of her own power. All fear seemed to leave her, and she laughed as she climbed hand over hand to the trapeze. From trapeze to trapeze she shot with delight; she had never felt so sure of herself, so exultant. When she returned to the net, Jules, who had taken his place at the rope, whispered to her: "You're in great form to-night. Keep it up."

She was smiling as she started on her long climb to the top of the building. But when she had taken her place on the beam from which she was to make her plunge and looked down at the black mass in the distance, her strength seemed suddenly to leave her. Her fingers tightened on the beam, as if she felt afraid of losing her balance. Then she heard her husband's voice ring through the place, crying the familiar warning. She knew the moment had come for making the plunge; but she continued motionless. She felt as if her will had become suddenly paralyzed, and a moment later, as if her body were frozen.

The black mass below seemed to dance before her, then to beckon to her, and in her ears she kept hearing the voice of little Jeanne and the sound of her laughter. Oh, she had known that this moment would come some time; she had known it ever since Jeanne was born. But she could not sit there forever; the crowd below was waiting to see her fall. If she did not make an effort she should lose her self-control and go plunging into the blackness. She must lift her hands and gather herself together, and hurl herself out as she had always done. But she had no strength; she could only lift her arms weakly. Then she tried to give her body the necessary impetus, and she plunged wildly into the air.

There was a cry of horror from the crowd, and a moment later the white figure lay motionless in the net. The people rose from their seats and rushed toward the ring. The police tried to drive them back as Jules leaped into the net and seized the prostrate body in his arms.

"Keep them back," he cried frantically, not realizing that he was speaking French. "She must have air." Then, turning, he said: "Blanche! Blanche! Can't you speak? Open your eyes so I may know you aren't dead."

He was terrified by the way her head fell back from her shoulders. "We must get her out of this," he said desperately, to two of the circus men who had followed him on the net, as he glanced down at the struggling mass beneath him. "Bring her to her dressing-room. Make those people get out of the way."

With difficulty they bore her through the crowd. Some one threw her cloak over her as she passed. She gave no sign of life, but the expression in Jules' face showed that he still hoped. When they reached her room, they placed her on the floor, and Jules closed the door to keep out the crowd. Madeleine, who had been ringing her hands and moaning, quickly loosened the tight bodice. Then the door was forced open again, and Marshall entered with a physician, who quickly bent over the prostrate figure and listened for the heart-beat.

"She's dead," he said quietly.

Jules threw himself on the body in a paroxysm of despair.

THE END.

PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, IN CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, FOR STONE AND KIMBALL, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK, M DCCC XCVI

Transcriber Notes:

Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.

Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.

Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.

Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted.

On page 18, "were" was replaced with "was".

On page 103, "Champs Élyseés" was replaced with "Champs Élysées".

On page 118, "wool house" was replaced with "wool-house".

On page 192, "aimably" was replaced with "amiably".

On page 222, "is" was replaced with "it".

On page 294, "palor" was replaced with "pallor".

End of Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle Blanche, by John David Barry