Part 4 (2/2)
Perchance when she had given up all hope of any favourable answer, he spoke.
”There is a way--though it pleases me not, Deb--whereby thou might be able to see the rehearsals at least. The Company a.s.sembles at eight of the morning, thou dost know; now I could take thee in earlier by an entrance I wot of, at Blackfriars, a little half-hidden doorway but seldom used--thence through my tiring-room--and so--and so--where dost think?”
”Nay! I know not,” she exclaimed. ”Where then, Darby?”
”To the Royal Box!” he answered. ”'Tis fair above the stage, yet a little to the right. The curtains are always drawn closely there to save the tinselled velvet and cloth o' gold hangings with which 't hath lately been fitted. Now I will part these drapings ever so little, yet enough to give thee a full sweeping view o' the stage, an' if thou keep'st well to the back o' the box, Deb, thou wilt be as invisible to us as though Queen Mab had cast her charmed cloak about thee. Egad!
there be men amongst the High Chamberlain's Players I would not have discover thee for many reasons, my little sister,” he ended, watching her face.
For half a moment the girl's lips quivered, then her eyes gathered two great tears which rolled heavily down and lay glittering on her grey kirtle.
”'Tis ever like this with me!” she exclaimed, das.h.i.+ng her hand across her eyes, ”whenever I get what I have longed and longed for. First com'th a ball i' my throat, then a queer trembling, an' I all but cry.
'Tis vastly silly is't not, but 'tis just by reason o' being a girl one doth act so.” Then eagerly, ”Thou would'st not fool me, Darby, or change thy mind? Thou art in earnest? Swear it! Cross thy heart!”
”Ay! I am in earnest,” he replied, smiling; ”in very truth thou shalt see thy brother turn love-sick maid and mince giddily about in petticoats. I warrant thou'lt be poppy-red, though thou art hidden behind the gold curtains, just to hear the n.o.ble Romeo vow me such desperate lover's vows.”
”By St. George, Deb! we have a Romeo who might turn any maid's heart and head. He is a handsome, admirable fellow, Sherwood, and hath a way with him most fascinating. He doth act even at rehearsals as though 'twere all most deadly pa.s.sionate reality, and this with only me for inspiration. I oft' fancy what 'twould be--his love-making--an' he had a proper Juliet--one such as thou would'st make, for instance.”
”I will have eyes only for thee, Darby,” answered Debora, softly, ”but for thee, an', yes, for Master Will Shakespeare, should he be by.”
”He is often about the theatre, sweet, but hath no part in this new play. No sooner hath he one written, than another is under his pen; and I am told that even now he hath been reading lines from a wonderful strange history concerning a Jew of Venice, to a party of his friends--Ben Jonson and d.i.c.k Burbage, and more than likely Lord Brooke--who gather nightly at 'The Mermaid,' where, thou dost remember, Master Shakespeare usually stays.”
”I forget nothing thou dost tell me of him,” said the girl, as she turned to leave the room. ”O wilt take me with thee on the morrow, Darby? Wilt really take me?----”
”On the morrow,” he answered, watching her away.
CHAPTER IV
IV
Thus it fell that each morning for one heavenly week Debora Thornbury found herself safely hidden away in what was called by courtesy ”The Royal Box.” In truth her Majesty had never honoured it, but commanded the players to journey down to Greenwich when it was her whim to see their performances. Now, in 1597, the Queen had grown too world-weary to care much for such pastimes, and rarely had any London entertainment at Court, save a concert by her choir boys from St. Paul's--for these lads with their ofttimes beautiful faces, and their fine voices, she loved and indulged in many ways.
At first Debora felt strangely alone after Darby left her in the little compartment above the stage at Blackfriars. Lingering about it was a pa.s.sing sweet odour, for the silken cus.h.i.+ons were stuffed with fragrant gra.s.ses from the West Indies, and the hand-railings and footstools were of carven sandalwood. Mingled with these heavy perfumes was the scent of tobacco, since the young n.o.bles who usually filled the box indulged much in the new weed.
The girl would lean back against the seat in this dim, richly coloured place, and give her mind up to a perfect enjoyment of the moment.
From her tiny aperture in the curtains, skilfully arranged by Darby, she could easily see the stage--all but the east wing--and, furthermore, had a fair view of the two-story circular building.
How gay it must be, she thought, when filled in gallery and pit with a merry company! How bright and glittering when all the great cressets and cl.u.s.ters of candles were alight! How charming to feel free to come and go here as one would, and not have to be conveyed in by private doorways like a bale of smuggled goods!
Then she would dream of olden times, when the sable friars went in and out of the old Dominican friary that stood upon the very place where the theatre was now built.
”'Twas marvellous strange,” she thought, ”that it should be a playhouse that was erected on this ground that used to be a place of prayer.”
So the time would pa.s.s till the actors a.s.sembled. They were a jovial, swaggering, happy-go-lucky lot, and it took all their Master-player's patience to bring them into straight and steady work. But when the play once began each one followed his part with keen enthusiasm, for there was no half-hearted man amongst the number.
Debora watched each actor, listened for each word and cue the prompter gave them with an absorbed intensity she was scarcely conscious of.
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