It stifled Lily, for the moment. She would rather have received twenty “contracts” with the steel buckle than see that cowardice in her husband. She had her Pa’s blood in her, damn it!

“What!” she thought. “He believes me to misconduct myself with Jimmy, and he is too much of a coward to object!”

But there was nothing to be done. Trampy was as incapable of anger as of love. All those years of a low life had degraded him to that point. And Trampy had even lost the right to bear Jimmy a grudge, made as though he had forgotten everything, said that, after all, it was much better to be friends. And all this under Lily’s critical eye!

Jimmy! To be obliged to look pleasant at Jimmy! It gave him a lump in his throat. Fortunately, he had the others, the crowd of assiduous pros who thronged round his wife. Against those he gave free scope to his jealousy, and showed himself as strict with the rest as he had been accommodating with Jimmy. He meant to keep an eye on his wife:

“A married woman, on the stage, alone! I won’t have any more of that!”

He hit upon a contrivance to be always with her: he would be her “comic.” It was a new system which had come into fashion: the most plastic performances spoiled by the juxtaposition of their caricatures; acrobats, Olympian gods, parodied by a merry-andrew in a ridiculous coat: just as though Nunkie Fuchs, for instance, had taken it into his head to appear with his Three Graces and mimic their tricks, kicking about at the end of a wire with his fat, fatherly paunch and his round, silly face.

And Trampy, riding behind Lily, would simply give a parody of her tricks; it meant little work to him and was as good a way as another of going on the stage with her and establishing his title to her work and her salary....

And off they went again, with the basket trunk, and the bikes; and on the stage, every night, Lily, looking like a goddess, and Trampy, dressed in rags, went through their tricks and smiled ... applause for her, always; none for him, ever. Lily wore a very sad look in consequence, when they returned to the wings: a poor little wife, so sorry for her husband; but she triumphed at the bottom of her heart, while Trampy turned green with spite. He was furious with Lily: tried to make her fall, pushed her in turning; but Lily was too clever and sat as firmly on her bike as Ave Maria walked her slack-wire, when the brother used to shake it on purpose, whip in hand and snarling as if to bite.

Oh, if Lily had not made efforts to be a good little wife! Trampy was becoming unbearable. She posed as the poor little thing, despised, deceived and betrayed by her husband; she loved to hear people tell her so, called them to witness and continued, but without result, to make inquiries about Ave Maria.

And there were everlasting scenes at home. Lily had enough of it, more than enough of it! She had even decided to go away, to return to London; but, worn out with worry, she had to take to her bed, with a high fever. It was the finishing stroke: no work,—all the savings gone....

Trampy, fortunately, found an engagement:

“It’s all right, the neighbors will look after you,” he said, as he took his leave. “A man’s duty is to see that his wife doesn’t starve, eh, darling? I’m going to make money, too, and I’ll bring you heaps when I come back; and I’ll send you some. That’s the sort of man I am. I don’t talk of ‘my money!’”

Lily was left alone in Berlin.

Generally, she hated the hotels frequented by artistes, but she was very glad to be in one this time. She, poor little broken-down thing, was not left to the care of a common servant; she had nice, kind nurses.... And she had no lack of friends who took interest in her, very sincerely, for that matter, for she was a favorite with all of them, that pretty Miss Lily, who would soon be free....

Lily let herself be coddled. Pending the arrival of the money which Trampy was to send, she wanted for nothing, especially in the way of luxuries: chocolates, sweets, flowers, they brought her everything. Her friends passing through Berlin, the impersonator, the Paras, many others, hearing that she was ill, came to see her, treated her as a lady, cried out how well she was looking, how pretty she was and how it suited her to be ill in bed.

Lily thought that very nice, put on a languid air, like a poor little jaded thing that had got out of gear:

“I shall die of overdoing it, I know I shall,” she said. “I’ve been at the bike ever since I was that high”—raising her hand twelve inches above the bed—“and my heart’s worn out by the hard work. My knees, too. Sit down there on the basket trunk. You at the foot of the bed. Have a chocolate.”

Then she turned over in her sheets, which molded her firm, plump shape, took a bag of sweets from the chair beside her and offered it round. Poor little martyr, she had been forbidden them by the doctor, because of a cough.... But she took them all the same, merely for the sake of taking them, with a graceful movement, her bare arm outstretched, her wrist making a supple curve, like a swan’s neck, as she dipped her pretty hand into the bag.

In addition to her regular friends, such as the impersonator or the Paras, others, the people staying in the hotel, would tap discreetly at the glass door between her room and the passage, come in on tip-toe, speak in a whisper.

“What nonsense!” Lily would say. “I’m not dead yet, you know!”

And she laughed, and “Ugh! Ugh!” a cough or so, a matter of lifting her embroidered handkerchief to her mouth, a favorite gesture. And there were stories from all parts, the cackle of the profession. The Paras were living together now, as they explained to her. The parrots? No go; given them up; one had its neck wrung by a monkey in Chicago; another died of consumption at Stockholm; the rest of the troupe sold to the stage-doorkeepers of the different variety-theaters. His sight was beginning to fail. She wanted smartness; wasn’t—how should he put it? The husband looked for a word—wasn’t “Tottie” enough. However, they managed somehow, as “eccentric duetists.” Lily thought that very nice, those two talents combined, very original; but could they give her any news of Ave Maria ... a great artiste ... on the wire?...

If ever Lily might have hoped to receive news of Ave Maria, it was during this illness, from the artistes who visited her, on their way from anywhere to God knows where. Lily had news of everybody: of Mirzah, the white elephant, who had to be pole-axed for killing his keeper; of Captain North’s seals; of the Three Graces, who were doing triumphantly in England; of Poland, the Parisienne, now starring at Bill and Boom’s. Tom was talked about: biceps like thighs, now: a hornpipe danced on the hands. She had news of the Pawnees, of the Hauptmanns. Roofer was sending out four new troupes, to Canada, Australia, India, Cape Colony: the Greater-England Girls. She had news of the New Zealanders and of her cousin Daisy, who seemed to find the star business jolly hard work:

“The wind-bag!” said Lily.

They talked of Jimmy, of dogs, cats and monkeys and of Tom Grave and Butt Snyders, those great breakneck acrobats: they talked of one and all, but not a word of Ave Maria. They knew her by reputation, as one who had been through the mill, more than Lily had, as Lily modestly admitted.

“Darling,” said the impersonator affectionately, “don’t bother about that Ave Maria of yours. I’m jealous. Be mine, darling! How well we two should get on together, eh, Lily?”

“Hands off!” said Lily. “Be good ... there ... like that ... down by your sides ... or you’ll get a smacking!”

Concerts were got up for Lily’s amusement. Sketch-comedians pulled their faces: a musician twanged his banjo. At other times, by closing her eyes, Lily could have imagined herself in an aviary: the Whistling Wonder imitated the nightingale, the thrush, the lark. Another, an equilibrist, showed her how, when he was obliged to stay in bed with a broken leg and had nobody to wait on him, he used to wait on himself by going round the room on his hands ... like that. Lily was given, for nothing, a performance which was worth a whole music-hall program. To put everybody at their ease, Lily told them to smoke, took a puff or two at a cigarette herself—“Ugh! Ugh!”—almost choked....

They amused themselves, among themselves, free from any constraint due to the presence of jossers. Lily joked with them as she used to do with the apprentices in the mornings, when they showed one another their bruises of the day before. She made them look at her pigeon’s egg, on the side of her foot, the little ball-shaped muscle special to her profession, like the triceps of the pugilist or the dancing-girls’ calves. She was vain enough to put on a silk stocking, poked out her foot from under the bedclothes, let them feel “her egg,” made it jump under their fingers by a sudden contraction.

“Is that all you’ve got to show us, darling?” asked the impersonator.

“You don’t want much, I don’t think!” said Lily, pulling back her foot under the quilt.

The incident was interrupted by new-comers who had also known Lily when she was that high. They brought fresh news from Lisle Street. They had had a drink with P. T. Clifton himself, had had a drink with an author who was writing a book on the business.

“Another josser who’s sure to talk a lot of nonsense!” cried Lily. “If only they told the truth and described us as we are, a sight better than the society ladies, who come and wait for pros outside the stage-door!”

And they went on. The healths they had drunk with this girl and that girl; and new turns: competitors who were cropping up ... names ... names ... Ave Maria? Dead, they said: somewhere in Ecuador or Peru.

Then Lily stretched herself to her full length in the sheets, feeling weary, weary, crushed under all that talk.

And Trampy just didn’t write, sent no money at all. She blushed for him ... in spite of her wish to catch him tripping, before witnesses. She was ashamed to be his wife, his only wife, his little wife for ever.

On that day, as it happened, Jimmy came to pay her a visit. His engagement at the Kolossal was ending. He was to perform at the London Hippodrome, before going to the States. A certain air of respect surrounded him from the moment he entered the room, that Jimmy who already stood higher than any of them among the famous bill-toppers! And they gradually retired, as though Lily would prefer that. It was no use her saying, “Do stay!” They went all the same; and Lily was left alone with him, a little embarrassed and yet flattered at being thought on such good terms with Jimmy. As for him, he had just heard about Lily’s illness, Trampy’s absence, and hurried to see her, bringing her the good news that the lawsuit was over. Trampy would have nothing more to pay....

From that day, Jimmy was sometimes seen at Lily’s. He spoke little, sat down on the basket trunk, listened, thought of things. He was known to have his mind full of an invention superior to “Bridging the Abyss,” one could expect anything from him: a wonderful chap Jimmy, a bit cracked, though, with ideas of his own which went the round of the profession and were variously appreciated. A fund for stage-children; a reserve upon their earnings, to be banked and kept untouched till they came of age; a home of rest for the old and the sick; a weekly matinÉe for the benefit of the fund....

Jimmy described the piteous lot of those who grow old in a profession intended for youth: but a few shillings a month paid into the fund, a benefit performance or two ... and our home is established and endowed and we should see no more stars flung aside, to die in hopeless poverty, after amusing crowds of people for years and years.

“I’m with you,” said Lily, laughing. “Put me down for a pension for my old age ... if ever I reach old age ... ugh, ugh!”

And she coughed, with the embroidered handkerchief at her lips.

But Lily’s joke was left unechoed: everybody talked professional shop, quoted figures; the habit of signing contracts, of avoiding the traps laid by the agents had given them all a keen sense of business. And the frequent traveling, in the absence of education, had made them sharp at understanding, quick in the uptake. Their clean-shaven faces fell into wise folds, like lawyers’.

Jimmy also explained his idea about the apprentices, the compulsory so much per cent., the inalienable deposit paid in by the Pas and Mas ... and, much more still, by the profs and managers....

“Good!” said Lily. “I’m with you!”

There was a general laugh. The Whistling Wonder interrupted the conversation by quacking like a duck at Jimmy and cooing like a pigeon at Lily. Jimmy got up and said good-by, pleased to see Lily making daily progress.

“Ah, Lily,” they said again, when he had gone, “that’s the one you ought to have married, not the other!”

And thereupon they began to pursue their favorite theme and amuse themselves by describing the awful troubles which she would get into one day with “the other,” that drunkard;—the man with the thirty-six girls! And they laughed and they laughed, my! Lily herself held her sides with laughing.

All this was stage effect, professional exaggeration. Lily dared not indulge in it before Jimmy. She was more sincere, always a little embarrassed, in the presence of that man toward whom everybody was driving her, as though they all saw farther into her life than she herself could. She was no longer ill, only tired, with an accumulation of past wearinesses that made her love to lie down flat. But she would get up to-morrow, instead of remaining in bed to see her friends; no humbug before Jimmy.

The next day when he came, Lily was alone. So much the better, he had something to say to her. He had made up his mind that day. His own present prosperity formed too great a contrast with the poverty of Lily ... that poor kiddie who had run away from home in pursuit of happiness and whom he now found here, in this squalid room.... It was all very well to theorize about children who have earned fortunes and who haven’t a farthing; but that was mere talk! Suppose he helped Lily a little in the meantime. He had prepared all sorts of good reasons; he had found a smart excuse, the great excuse of the music-hall, that he had been betting on horses and losing. He would ask Lily to keep his money for him, as a kindness, otherwise he simply couldn’t help it, his money burned a hole in his pocket. Then, on second thought, why all that fuss? Hadn’t he known her since she was that high? And, the moment he came in, he just handed Lily a thousand-mark note:

“For the law-costs, Lily! And, anything over, for your expenses, till Trampy’s money comes. Only too pleased to be of any use. You can pay it back when it suits you. And good-by, Lily, ta-ta!”

And he hurried out, leaving Lily with the thousand marks in her hand.

Lily was stupefied and confused. She asked herself why? why? a real piece of brain-work, which made her head ache. Anyhow she would give back the money to-morrow! She wouldn’t keep it! Trampy would be sure to bring some; it was impossible that he should bring nothing; but, come what may, she would give back the money to-morrow! She took the great oath of the stage upon it: three fingers of her right hand uplifted; her left hand on the lucky charm. And then she went and shut the door, turned the key in the lock and lay down....

A noise woke her: some one was knocking outside; but, before she could get out of bed, one of the glass panes of the door broke into fragments. Somebody had smashed it with his elbow. A hand came through the opening, turned back the key. The door opened and Trampy entered, raging, growling:

“There’s a man here!”

“You won’t find him; you can kill me if you do!” cried Lily.

She expected a terrible scene. Trampy, drunk, had the look which he wore on his bad days. He peered into the corners, turned a cunning eye on Lily.

Trampy had spent the evening at the cafÉ and there heard of the visits which Lily received during his absence. The neighbors he didn’t mind about, but Jimmy. Jimmy again! The damned dog! Why should he poke his nose in? And, perhaps, at heart, Trampy was not sorry to have a scene with Lily, for he wasn’t bringing home a pfennig, having spent all his money on champagne with girls. He felt himself at fault. He would get out of it with violence.

“There’s a man here!” repeated Trampy, walking up to Lily like a madman.

She was humiliated to the core when she saw Trampy, dazed with tobacco, heavy with beer, stoop and look under the bed. And, suddenly, seeing the banknote which Lily had laid on the table, Trampy shouted:

“You can’t deny it this time. Tell me where the money comes from!”

“It’s from Jimmy,” said Lily, beside herself. “He thinks of me, Jimmy does, while you leave me here to starve. It’s ... it’s for the law-costs.”

“Oh, that’s another thing!” said Trampy, putting the note in his pocket.

“Let the money be!” cried Lily, leaping out of bed. “Don’t you touch it!”

“Everything here belongs to me, I should think,” said Trampy, a little more calmly, already overcome with drunken drowsiness. “Everything, even a dear little wifie,” he continued, putting his snout under Lily’s disgusted nose.

But she gave a movement of revulsion so spontaneous that Trampy turned pale under the insult:

“W-what! N-no love?” he stammered. “I’m not used to that. I can get l-l-love for the asking ... at the ca-ca-cafÉ ... or the th-theater ... or anywhere.”

And Trampy, making a false step, caught hold of the curtain and drew it back.

In the pitiless light of the morning, he appeared to Lily like a drowned man, with a puffed-out face, swollen eyes and wan cheeks. To think that she belonged to that! Lily spat at him in contempt. Oh, rather sleep with lizards and guinea-pigs than that; rather with a woolly dog, like Poland, that Parisienne! Oh, to get rid of him and be free again, thought Lily, never again to have Trampy before her eyes! And, suddenly, her mind was made up. She dressed herself hurriedly.

“Where are you going?” asked Trampy.

“I’m off!” said Lily. “I’ve had enough of this!”

“What’s that?” said Trampy, dull-mouthed, flinging his body across the bed. “What’s that? Say it again!”

“I say I hate the sight of you! I’m going back to my Pa and Ma!”

“You, you’re going back to ... well, good-by, darling, goo-good ... goo-good-by,” stammered Trampy, sprawling on the bed, among the disordered clothes....

Lily moved freely round the room, without even troubling about him, like one who has made up her mind once and for all. She packed up her things in the basket trunk. She put her bike outside the door; and, just as she was going to look for a neighbor to help her down with her trunk, an idea entered her head. She stopped on the threshold, came back to Trampy, slipped her hand into his pocket and gingerly took out the banknote:

“An insult like that!” she muttered. “I’d rather starve than not give Jimmy back the money!”