The Joys of Love by Madeleine L'Engle Read Free Book Online Page A

aware that at the moment you are—shall we say—short of cash. Okay, that’s a fact and what difference does it make? We know you aren’t trying to milk us dry or take advantage of us or anything. Now take the dratted cummerbund or I’ll think you think I don’t have any taste. Oh, lawks, maybe that’s the root of it. Do you think it would look awful?”

    â€œNo. I think it would look wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “I thought of a sash of a darker color when I sewed the outfit, only for Ivy we had to be all one color.”
    â€œWell, will you take it then?” Jane asked. “Please. Or you’ll really hurt my feelings.”
    â€œThanks ever so much.” Elizabeth knew that her gratitude was clumsy and ill-expressed. “I—just thanks, Jane.”
    â€œOh, forget it,” Jane said. “Here, let me put it on for you. Oh, Liz, it does look elegant! Come on, hon, we have to dash. If you’re head usher you ought to be there before anybody else.”
    The opening went beautifully. The audience loved Mariella Hedeman, the company’s character woman, as the crotchety old lady in the wheelchair, and Kurt Canitz as her murderer got three solo curtain calls and several shouts of “Bravo.” The apprentices, standing in the back, jumped up and down and shouted and cheered. Afterwards they all went backstage. They were imbued with a glowing sense of vicarious importance. After all, Ben was really one of them and he was assistant stage manager; and Mariella Hedeman gave them voice lessons; and Huntley Haskell, who played the rather sweetly pompous young Englishman, was their acting coach. Even Marian Hatfield, their movement teacher, who had not been in this play, had joined everyone backstage. The apprentices felt they belonged in this company; they were part of a professional theatre; these were their friends and colleagues who had just given the audience a pleasant and exciting evening.
    Ben had met them anxiously. “Did you notice I was a little late on the second act curtain?” he asked with a worried frown. His blue shirt was moist with nervous perspiration and his
shadow loomed grotesquely on one of the flats like a beanpole of a giant.
    â€œNo,” Jane said, “it looked perfect to me. I don’t think it should have come down a second earlier.”
    â€œYou mean you don’t think anybody in the audience noticed it, then?”
    â€œFor crying out loud, no.” John Peter sounded exasperated.
    â€œWell, Kurt swore at me like mad. I didn’t think it was late. Maybe he just had the jitters like the rest of us,” Ben said, sounding relieved. “We’re in, anyhow. They loved it, didn’t they?”
    â€œWasn’t Kurt wonderful?” Elizabeth cried.
    â€œOh, he was okay,” John Peter said. “I’ve seen the part done a lot more subtly. Kurt doesn’t know the meaning of shading. And of course his accent was out of place.”
    Elizabeth knew better than to argue with John Peter in the backstage crowd, especially as Jane was nodding in agreement. John Peter was opinionated at all times, and here, with people milling around, she would have no chance even if she shouted. “We’ll discuss his performance later,” she said. “I want to go see Miss Hedeman now. See you later, kids.” She moved across the stage toward the long passage off which the dressing rooms were located.
    Kurt Canitz’s dressing room door was open. He was sitting at his table in his dressing gown, his makeup still on, talking to a group of people. He looked up as Elizabeth passed and called out to her.
    â€œYes, Mr. Canitz?” She stopped and waited to hear whether he wanted a cup of coffee or a fresh tin of Albolene.

    â€œI want to talk to you. Wait for me, will you? I won’t be long,” he said, and smiled at her.
    â€œYes, Mr. Canitz.”
    Elizabeth went down the