This was her destiny, the payment she must return the
world for having once made a mistake. One out of the multitude, she
felt strong enough in the crisis to choose deliberately the straight
and narrow path leading through Gethsemane.
And this very choosing gave back her womanhood, cleared her dazed brain
for action, and sent the red blood throbbing through her veins. Her
immediate surroundings began to take definite form. To the left the
great, deserted stage extended, wrapped in total darkness, silent,
forsaken, the heavy drop-curtain lowered to the floor. Through its
obscuring folds resounded noisily a crash of musical instruments, the
incessant shuffling of feet, a mingled hum of voices, evidencing that
the dance was already on in full volume. Far back, behind much
protruding scenery, a single light flickered like a twinkling star, its
dim, uncertain radiance the sole guide through the intricacies of
cluttered passageways leading toward the distant stage entrance. Half
frightened at this gloomy loneliness, the girl moved gingerly forward,
her skirts gathered closely about her slender figure, with anxious eyes
scanning the gloomy shadows in vague suspicion.
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