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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

BOOK: The Joys of Love
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Elizabeth looked quickly at Kurt, then back at Ben. “I'd adore doing it with you. You know how I love Nina even if I'm all wrong for her.” She turned eagerly to Kurt. “Would it be all right if I do it, just for now, Kurt?”
“Of course, Liebchen. I'd like to see you.”
He sat down on the old couch to watch as Elizabeth and Ben started the scene. And so persuasive were they in their intensity that he hardly noticed as Jane and John Peter slipped in the door, their recorders under their arms, their hair blown
and their skin red from too much sun, and sat down next to him. None of them noticed when Valborg Andersen opened the door and stood quietly just inside, listening.
“‘Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on?'” Elizabeth was crying, and she was no longer Elizabeth, but a wild beautiful creature with a light burning inside her which adversity had not been able to extinguish. Elizabeth felt closer to Nina than to any other character in fiction or even to many living people, not through experience but through instinct—Nina who loved so desperately, so foolishly, and who was rejected.
Then Nina turned to the stage, and in her work finally found comfort and strength. She came home again, exhausted and half ill, to see the boy who loved her and whom she had been unable to love once she met the famous writer who casually took and destroyed her. “‘He does not believe in the theatre; he used to laugh at my dreams, so that little by little I became downhearted and ceased to believe in it too. Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety about my little one, so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless, and played my parts without meaning. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I could not walk properly or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mind of one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly badly he is acting.'”
Then exhaustion overcomes Nina. “‘I am a seagull—no—no, that is not what I meant to say. Do you remember how you shot a seagull once? A man chanced to pass that way and destroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short story, but
it is not what I meant to say … What was I saying? … Oh, yes, the stage. I have changed now. Now I am a real actress. I act with joy, with exaltation, I am intoxicated by it, and feel that I am superb. I have been walking and walking, and thinking and thinking, ever since I have been here, and I feel the strength of my spirit growing in me every day.'”
Elizabeth paused for a moment before she said the last words of the speech, the words which were her creed. Kurt leaned forward, his mouth slightly open, a habit of his whenever he was excited. John Peter reached over and took Jane's hand. Valborg Andersen remained quietly in the doorway.
“‘I know now, I understand at last, Constantine, that for us, whether we write or act, it is not the honor and glory of which I have dreamt that is important, it is the strength to endure. One must know how to bear one's cross, and one must have faith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I think of my calling I do not fear life.'”
As Elizabeth finished, Valborg Andersen made a slight sound and all heads turned toward her. Elizabeth looked quickly around the room and when she saw Miss Andersen, she turned scarlet.
Valborg Andersen came into the room. “You. The tall girl,” she said. “Nina.”
“Y-yes, Miss Andersen,” Elizabeth stammered.
“I want you for
Macbeth
. To play the Gentlewoman in the sleepwalking scene. I am putting Marian Hatfield in Miss Dorothy Dawne's place as Lady Macduff, and we'll need someone else to replace her as the Gentlewoman. You'll do very well if you'd like to do it. You have the right quality.”
Elizabeth stood still, not saying a word, and Valborg Andersen went on.
“Small though the role is, the Gentlewoman is exceedingly important to the scene and I was quite in despair over it. It can throw off the whole balance of the play, and there was no one in the company to replace Miss Hatfield. Joe McGill suggested I might find someone among the apprentices and told me you were rehearsing here. I liked the way you did Nina. What's your name?”
“Elizabeth Jerrold.”
“That's a beautiful speech.”
“Yes.”
“And a beautiful play. Are there enough of you to cast it?”
As Elizabeth remained speechless, Ben answered for her. “Oh, no. We just do bits of it among ourselves, Miss Andersen.”
“Is it part of your work? What you're supposed to do?”
“Oh, no. We just do it for ourselves. It was Liz—Elizabeth's idea.”
With a great effort Elizabeth spoke. “Miss Andersen—”
“Yes, Miss Jerrold?”
“Nina isn't really my part. It's Jane Gardiner's.” She indicated Jane sitting next to John Peter. “I just do Masha. Jane's a better actress than I am. I was just doing Nina with Ben because Jane and John Peter hadn't come. So—so Jane really ought to play the Gentlewoman.”
Jane was making unhappy gestures of dissent and Valborg Andersen looked intently at Elizabeth.
“Don't you want to do it?”
“Yes, of course!” Elizabeth cried. “It's not that! It's just that Jane's a better actress than I am.”
“Please don't listen to her,” Jane said. “Please.”
Valborg Andersen raised her eyebrows as she looked at them. “I think I'd rather have you as the Gentlewoman, anyhow, Miss Jerrold. Your height will give an interesting quality to the role. But I'd like to see the whole of that scene, and if Miss Gardiner and Mr … .” She smiled at Ben. “I'm sorry, I've only heard you called Ben around the theatre.”
“Walton,” Ben said.
“—Mr. Walton would care to do it for me, I'd be glad to see it tomorrow morning. Dress rehearsal doesn't start till the afternoon.”
“Golly, that would be wonderful,” Ben said. “We—we can't thank you enough, Miss Andersen.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. Can you be there by ten o'clock? At the theatre?”
“Any time.” Ben was nodding furiously. “The set from Courtmont's play should be down by then and
Macbeth
should be up. I'll make sure of it, so we'll have the time.”
“All right. The theatre, at ten o'clock. You, Nina, Miss Jerrold, I'm assuming you are familiar with the lines, but you'd better come back to the theatre with me now. We'll do a quick run-through before dinner and then we'll have to work very hard tomorrow afternoon at dress rehearsal. Mr. Walton, in view of the change of cast, Mr. McGill would like you back at the theatre, too.”
Elizabeth and Ben followed Miss Andersen out. The others
looked after them, excitement and affectionate amusement mingling on their faces.
“She's completely crazy, that girl,” Kurt said. “Perhaps that is why I am rather nuts about her.”
 
When Miss Andersen dismissed the company, Elizabeth went over to Ben's table and waited while he made some notes in the script. In spite of considerable childishness in his offstage life, Ben was an excellent and thorough assistant to Joe McGill. He looked up at Elizabeth and smiled, a smile that was amazingly gentle and somehow mature for his boyish face.
“Happy, Liz?”
She flung out her arms. “Ecstatic.”
“It's an ill wind,” Ben said.
“Yes. Bless Dottie.”
“Dottie's not going to love you for this.”
“Dottie doesn't love me anyhow.”
Ben rubbed a long, rather bony finger against his nose. “The Elizabeth-Dorothy mutual hate society, huh?”
“Oh, I haven't anything against Dottie,” Elizabeth said magnanimously. “She just doesn't interest me.”
“Does she interest Kurt?” Ben started sharpening his pencils with a pocket knife and cast a rather wicked glance at Elizabeth from the corner of his eye.
“Dottie interests most men, I guess.” Elizabeth tried to sound casual. “Huntley isn't going to let her interest anybody too much.”
“You put great faith in Huntley,” Ben said, then added, “Oh,
to hell with Dottie anyhow. Liz, I'm glad you got this break. You deserve it if anyone ever did.”
“Oh, Ben—” Elizabeth let her breath out in an ardent sigh. “It would be impossible for anybody
not
to act with Miss Andersen directing. Now I really see—I mean, it's not that she shows you how, it's just that she makes you know how. She makes you aware every second with every particle of you, so that you're working much more—more productively, than you ever could by yourself.”
Ben stood up. “Think she's better than Kurt?” he asked.
“I don't think you ought to make comparisons. Kurt's lots younger and he works differently. But I don't think you ought to say one way is better than another.”
“Oh, Liz,” Ben said with a deep sigh, flinging his arm about Elizabeth's shoulders, “life can be such hell.”
“What's the matter, Ben?” she asked gently.
“Liz, sometimes you're an awful dope,” he said.
“I know, but why in particular?”
“Forget it.” Ben started arranging his pencils in a neat row beside the script. His face suddenly had an ageless, simian look of tragedy. “Let's get back to
Macbeth
. We're going to have some good performances next week. And yours is going to be one of them.”
Elizabeth sat down on the dusty canvas that covered the floor of the stage and breathed deeply the familiar beloved odor of paint, glue, old coffee, greasepaint, and dust. Beneath her the sea breathed quietly. “I feel kind of guilty about it—”
Ben sat heavily on his three-legged stool. “You and your guilt complexes. What now?”
“Well—Miss Andersen came in when I was doing Jane's scene. If Jane had been doing it, she'd probably be in
Macbeth
instead of me.”
“Don't worry about Jane,” Ben said. “Jane's okay. She won't hold it against you.”
“I know that. It's just that she can't help—well, she can't help feeling badly about it.”
“Okay, so she feels badly about it,” Ben said. “It's her own fault, isn't it? She and John Peter didn't need to stay swooning on the beach with their recorders when they were supposed to be working.”
“Jane has ever so much more experience than I have,” Elizabeth said.
“All the more reason for you to get some experience then. You'll learn a lot next week.”
“It'll be marvelous,” Elizabeth said. “It'll be the most marvelous experience in the world.” She lay down on the floor, resting her head on her arm to protect it from the dusty grey canvas, and looked up into the flies. Light came filtering down from a shuttered window above the grid, and long motes of dust twined with the ropes that held up the curtain. “Maybe one reason I feel kind of guilty about Jane is that I'm so happy. If you're too happy about anything, fate usually gives you a good sock in the jaw and knocks you down. Oh, Ben, everything's worked out so marvelously, Soapie having paid room and board for next week and now
Macbeth
and everything. Even if I have to go back to Jordan I can bear it, but now I can't help believing that something will happen so that I won't have to go back.”
Ben knelt down beside her. “Liz,” he said softly, “you're beautiful, did you know?”
“Don't be silly. I'll do. I can pass for beautiful on the stage with good makeup and lighting, but I'm certainly not beautiful myself.”
“That's what you think,” Ben said. “It's time to go over to the Cottage for dinner.”
He reached down a hand to help her off the floor and they walked back to the Cottage in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
The apprentices were all waiting for Elizabeth and crowded around her, full of excited congratulations, only turning away when the Prices entered, escorting Sarah Courtmont into the dining room for dinner. The actress sat at the Prices' small round table in a corner away from the company and apprentice tables.
Ditta sat next to Elizabeth. “I think it's wonderful, your being in
Macbeth
,” she said. “Anything I can do to help you out in any way? I'm afraid I'm not up to box office, but I could do some typing or set tables for you if that would be any good.”
“Thanks a million, Ditta. Being in the dress rehearsal tomorrow will make things tight, but I can manage. I don't have to do the box office tomorrow, and as long as Price doesn't give me anything extra, I don't think I'll have any trouble. You're a darling to offer.”
“Well, just let me know if you think of anything,” Ditta said.
“I will. Good grief, I've got to get upstairs and get dressed for ushering. Some of the flashlights weren't working last night
and I have to check them, and if there's time, I want to look over my lines. You can have my dessert.”

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