.. I don't know, will
they permit burying her properly--with choristers, with priests?
For that reason I'm asking you to assist me with your advice. Or,
perhaps, you will direct me somewhere? ..."
Now the artiste had little by little become interested and was
already beginning to forget about her fatigue, and migraine, and
the consumptive heroine dying in the fourth act. She was already
picturing the role of an intercessor, the beautiful figure of
genius merciful to a fallen woman. This was original, extravagant,
and at the same time so theatrically touching! Rovinskaya, like
many of her confreres, did not let one day pass by--and, if it
were possible, she would not have let pass even one hour--without
standing out from the crowd, without compelling people to talk
about her: to-day she would participate in a pseudo-patriotic
manifestation, while to-morrow she would read from a platform, for
the benefit of revolutionaries exiled to Siberia, inciting verses,
full of fire and vengeance. She loved to sell flowers at
carnivals, in riding academies; and to sell champagne at large
balls.
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