The cuttle-fish, then,
was the purple forest, or perhaps one tree in the forest, and the
oblong patch was the crimson castle. The stage remained empty, and
Edward Henry had time to perceive that the footlights were unlit and
that rays came only from the flies and from the wings.

He glanced round. Nobody had blenched. Quite confused, he referred
again to the programme and deciphered in the increasing gloom:
"Lighting by Cosmo Clark," in very large letters.

Two yellow-clad figures of no particular sex glided into view, and
at the first words which they uttered Edward Henry's heart seemed in
apprehension to cease to beat. A fear seized him. A few more words and
the fear became a positive assurance and realization of evil. "The New
Don Juan" was simply a pseudonym for Carlo Trent's "Orient Pearl"!...
He had always known that it would be. Ever since deciding to accept
the invitation he had lived under just that menace. "The Orient Pearl"
seemed to be pursuing him like a sinister destiny.

Weakly he consulted yet again the programme. Only one character bore
a name familiar to the Don Juan story, to wit "Haidee," and opposite
that name was the name of Elsie April. He waited for her--he had no
other interest in the evening--and he waited in resignation; a young
female troubadour (styled in the programme "the messenger") emerged
from the unseen depths of the forest in the wings and ejaculated to
the hero and his friend, "The Woman appears." But it was not Elsie
that appeared. Six times that troubadour-messenger emerged and
ejaculated, "The Woman appears," and each time Edward Henry was
disappointed. But at the seventh heralding--the heralding of the
seventh and highest heroine of this drama in hexameters--Elsie did at
length appear.

And Edward Henry became happy. He understood little more of the play
than at the historic breakfast-party of Sir John Pilgrim; he was well
confirmed in his belief that the play was exactly as preposterous as
a play in verse must necessarily be; his manly contempt for verse was
more firmly established than ever--but Elsie April made an exquisite
figure between the castle and the forest; her voice did really set up
physical vibrations in his spine. He was deliciously convinced that
if she remained on the stage from everlasting to everlasting, just so
long could he gaze thereat without surfeit and without other desire.
The mischief was that she did not remain on the stage. With despair he
saw he