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.Stretched out ondeep, deep, into the darkest dungeon of my heart  so deep, so her couch-bed she tried to read.Then made the round of thedark, that I never dared to look into it again.studio, examined wet canvases without seeing them, pickedThe years passed.I lived a life of quiet, peaceful happiness up open tubes and flung them down again.Horribly use- wifehood, motherhood  I quite forgot the silent partner less, this business called life.What does it all matter, whenwho lay fettered and twisted, far from sunlight and life and love is gone? And who can hold love? Oh, misery! misery!love.Perhaps she had died? And still so many years to live.To live alone.Or would heOne magnificent autumn day, ablaze with gold and scarlet come back? Could he come back? Oh  if only for a littleand lapislazuli, the fulness of life suddenly thrilled me, over- while! Oh, to see him just once more  his dark face, hispowered me.Oh! all that had gone before seemed so drab, black eyes, to smell his tobacco breath, to feel the grasp of hisso poor, so meaningless.I heard a call insistent, throbbing, irre- strong hand.One o clock  no  he would not comesistible.And I followed, intoxicated, delirious  I became queen back.This time all was over for ever  she felt it, she knewin a universe of passionate glories.it.But perhaps to-morrow? He might regret  repent  heAnd then, of a sudden, my silent partner stood before me  might come for breakfast, like the last time.Oh! jolly, happy,wan, tortured, perverted.She had broken her chains.She had divine breakfast! No, no, never again.His love was dead.Shearisen terribly.Flame-eyed and insatiable, she drove me from knew it.And would he love some other woman? Would hisorgy to orgy.And in the fulness of my frenzy  she slew me.eyes burn into another s eyes, his kisses crush another s mouth!HELEN WOLJESKA.God  God  this was hell.She could not bear it.She would   not.She must make an end  now  immediately.NOCTURNE.With feverish hands she felt for a tiny Japanese dagger heA yellow satin ribbon across the mat ivory of her frail shoul- once had given her.It must end her agony  der held up the tattered batiste chemise.Long black silk stock- Yet  he might come to-morrow! HELEN WOLJESKA.316THE INTERNATIONAL 317QUELQUE CHOSE (SOME SHOWS) De Luxe Annie is clever, but unreal.It is science, but it is them that unless they do exactly what their mother wishes theynot convincing.The first two acts are thrilling, but the last scene will be assailed by life-long regret after she is dead.This loath-of the third act is a trifle absurd.Though possibly true to life, it some superstition is utterly false.I think that the best reformis not true to art.However, with a little rewriting,  De Luxe would be to kill all women as soon as they have borne, say, twoAnnie can be made theatrically a real success.It belongs to the children.It should at least be a plank in any reasonable plat-same category as  The Thirteenth Chair, though technically it form of reconstruction.Whether they should be eaten is a mat-is inferior.In spite of its flaws we must admit that the play ter of economics and of dietetics, somewhat beyond the scopeenthralls nine-tenths of the time.This is more than we can say of a mere theatrical notice.of nine-tenths of the plays now running on Broadway.* * ** * *Adolf Bolm s Ballets-Intime is sublimated vaudeville; as such,I saw  Friend Martha at the Booth Theatre last night.There it is great.Itow is a Japanese dancing in a Japanese manner;was a lot of early William IV stuff; the old ancestor s picture Bolm, himself a Russian, dancing in a Russian manner.that slides and admits the hero by a secret passage, and the Roshanara is an English woman with a French temperament,indignant father, and all that sort of elopement drivel.But what and there is no pretense of Orientalism in her Oriental dances,killed the play is the characteristic Americanism, the theme of which therefore please.She does them in a purely Parisian mother-love (excuse my blushes).Let us write a warning upon manner [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]