Lumber across the stage in
your purple tights, wiggle around in your sultana's toque. That's the
baby. And kick your legs at us as you exit. Ah, what a kick! But never
mind. It is quite good enough for us. And--it reminds us.
* * * * *
We applaud. Does the noise sound ghastly? What is it we applaud? God
knows. But applause is a habit. One applauds in a theater. How does it
sound in the wings to you, madam, our applause? Rather meaningless, eh?
And not interesting at all? Ah, we forgive you for that, for not feeling a
great thrill at our applause. Nevertheless, it is a rather piquant thing,
our applause. Considering how cold it is outside, how long winter is in
passing. Considering how cheerless the buildings look.
Put on the red ball gown and come out and crack jokes with the
hop-headed-looking juvenile lead. Greetings, madam. How marvelous you look
in this ball gown! Ah, indeed! You were walking down the street the other
day and chanced to meet. Hm, we've heard that joke, but we'll laugh again.
Matrimony. I'll tell you what marriage is. A lottery. Yes, we've heard
that one, too. Accept our laughter, nevertheless.
Your jokes, madam, are neither young nor refined.
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