As I stared at her,
all else seemed to turn dim and vanish. She was in her costume with the
blood on her arm and breast, and her great billowy skirts about her, and
her stage-jewels, and she was smiling; and I, as I looked at her, seemed
to see the folly and the shame of her like fire; and yet that folly and
shame had a power that nothing else had. Her smile seemed to me like the
grin of a devil; and her colour to be daubs upon her bare cheek-bones,
and she herself like some rotten thing with a semblance of life that was
not life at all. I cannot put it into words at all: I know only that I
ceased applauding, and stared on her as if I were bewitched.

Then I saw my dear love's fingers on my arm, and her face looking at me
as if she were frightened.

"What is the matter, Cousin Roger?" she whispered; and then: "Come,
Cousin Roger; it is late."

Then my mood passed, or I shook myself clear of it.

"Yes; yes," I said. "It is nothing. Come, my dear."

* * * * *

The little passage by which we went out was crammed full of folk,
talking and whistling and laughing; some imitating the cries of the
actors, some, both men and women, looking about them freely with bold
eyes. I saw presently that Dolly did not like it, and that we should be
a great while getting out that way; and then I saw a little door beside
me that might very well lead out to the air. I pushed upon this, and saw
another little passage.

"James," said I, for he was close behind me, "go out and bring the
coach round to this side if there is a way out." (And then to Dolly.)
"Come, sweetheart, we will find a way out here."

I pushed my way behind a fellow who was just in front, and got through
the door, and Dolly and her maid followed me.

It was a little passage with doors on the right which I think led to the
actors' rooms and the stage, for I heard talking and laughing behind;
but I made nothing of that, and we went on. As we went past one of the
doors it opened all of a sudden and Mrs. Lee herself came out, still in
her dress and her jewels, and her face all a-daub with paint, and the
blood on her arm and dress, and ran through another door further along,
leaving behind her a great whiff of coarse perfume. It was but for an
instant that we saw her; yet, even in that instant, a sort of horror
came on me again as if she were something monstrous and ominous,
though--poor woman!--I have never heard anything against her more