Chapter One The door opens, Michael.Gosling looked up.Julia came in. Hello!I'll be fine in a minute.I was just signing off on a few letters. not busy.I'm just here to see what tickets are being sent to the Den Norents.What is that young man doing here? With the instinct of an experienced actress who is good at using gestures to match her speech, she turned her clean head to the side of the room she had just passed through. He's an accountant from Lawrence|Humphrey LLP.He has been here for three days. He looks very young. He is an indentured employee.He seems to be very knowledgeable.But he was always amazed at our accounting system.He told me that he had never imagined that a theater could be managed in such an orderly manner.He said there were some houses in the city whose accounts were so messed up it would make your hair turn gray.

Julia watched the contented expression on her husband's handsome face, and smiled. He is a nice boy. His work is over today.I think we can take him home and treat him to a potluck.He's a nice decent guy. Is that a good enough reason to invite him to dinner? Michael didn't notice the slight sarcasm in her tone. If you don't want to invite him, I won't invite him.I just thought it would surprise him.He adores you adoringly.He has watched your play three times.He wishes I could introduce him to you. Michael pressed the bell and his secretary walked in. Take these letters, Margaret.What appointments do I have this afternoon?

Julia listened half-heartedly to Margaret's reading of the schedule of appointments, while, though she knew the room by no means, she looked around leisurely.It was a very suitable room for the manager's office of a first-class theatre.The walls are covered with wainscoting by a good interior decorator (at cost), and the walls are hung with engraved Zoffany (Note: 1733︱1810, British painter, Royal Founder of the Academy of Fine Arts, good at depicting fragments of contemporary drama plots in the form of genre paintings.) and stage scenes by Dwyld.Those armchairs were wide and comfortable.Michael sat on an ornately carved Chippendale chair, the It was a replica, but made by a famous upholsterer, and his Chippendale table, with its thick ball-claw feet, was extraordinarily solid.On the table was a photograph of herself in a strong silver frame, and symmetrically next to a photograph of their son Roger.Between the two was a stately silver inkstand, a present from her herself on his one year birthday, and behind it was a red morocco stationery stand, heavily embossed with gold. , where Michael puts his personal letterhead envelopes for use in handwritten letters.The address of the Siddons Theater was printed on the letterhead, and his crest was printed on the envelope: a boar's head, and below it was the inscription: Whoever offends me must be punished. (Note: The original text is Latin: Nemo me impune lacessit.) A bouquet of yellow tulips is inserted in a silver cup. This is the three consecutive championship trophies he won in the Drama World Golf Tournament, which shows Margaret's careful care. .Julia looked her over.Although her cropped hair was bleached with hydrogen peroxide and her lips were slathered with lipstick, she had a neutral expression, This is what marks an ideal secretary.She has been working with Michael for five years.She must have known him perfectly well during that time.Julia wondered if she could be so stupid as to fall in love with him.

At this moment Michael stood up from his chair. Okay baby, we can go now. Margaret handed him his black Homburg fedora, opened the door, and let Julia and Michael walked out.As they entered the outer office, the young man Julia had seen turned and stood up. Let me introduce you to Miss Lambert (Note: That is Julia, in the literary world, girls are often called Miss by nature after marriage.), said Michael.Then he said, with the air of an ambassador presenting his entourage to the prince of a country at the court to which he is accredited: This is the gentleman, Domon, who has put some order into our confused accounts.

The young man's face flushed.He smiled awkwardly at Julia's ready warm smile; she felt his palm wet with sweat as she shook his hand tightly and affectionately.His embarrassed appearance is sympathetic.People were introduced to Sarah.Siddons (Note: 1755︱1831, an English tragic actress, troupe manager, famous for her performance in Shakespeare.) would feel this kind of embarrassment.She remembered that she had just heard that the young man was going to be invited home for dinner, and she was not very happy with Michael.She looked straight into his eyes.Her own eyes were large, dark brown, and sparkling.Now she effortlessly showed a slightly amused and friendly expression, as instinctive as brushing off a fly buzzing around her.

Wondering if I could invite you to our house for a light meal and Michael will drive you home afterward. The young man blushed again, and his Adam's apple moved on his slender neck. You are too kind.He glanced uneasily at his clothes.I'm really sloppy. When we get home, you can wash up and brush your clothes. The car was waiting for them at the backstage door, a long black car with shiny aluminium, seats wrapped in silver leather and Michael's crest discreetly painted on the doors.Julia got into the car. Come sit with me.Michael is going to drive. They lived in Stanhope Square, and when they reached the house Julia ordered the butler to show the young visitor to the bathroom to freshen up.She went straight upstairs to the drawing room.She was putting on lipstick when Michael came up to her.

I told him to come up when he was freshened up. By the way, what's his name? I have no idea. Baby, we have to know.I want him to inscribe a note in our yearbook. Fuck you, he's not qualified enough.Michael only asked first-class celebrities to write inscriptions on their memorial books.We will not ask him again in the future. At this moment, the young man appeared.Julia had tried to keep him at ease in the car, but he remained remarkably shy.The cocktails were already there, and Michael poured them out.Julia picked up a cigarette, and the young man struck a match for her, but his hand was shaking so badly that she seized his hand and squeezed it tightly, seeing that he could not bring the fire to her cigarette.

Poor little darling, she thought, I think this is the greatest moment of his life.How nice it would be for him to blow it up to his family afterwards.I figured he'd be a goddamn little hero in his office. Julia talked to herself in her belly quite differently than she did to other people: when she talked to herself, she used sharp words.She took her first cigarette happily.It was indeed marvelous, when you thought about it, that just having lunch with her like this, and perhaps talking to her for three quarters of an hour, could make a man a hundred times more valuable in his own insignificant little circle.

The young man barely uttered a word. What a beautiful house. She slightly raised her beautiful eyebrows, and gave him a pleasing smile.He must have often seen her do this on stage. I'm so glad you liked it.Her voice was rather low and slightly hoarse.You feel as if his words have removed a stone from her heart.We thought Michael's taste was perfect. Michael glanced triumphantly across the room. I have a lot of experience.I always design the sets for our plays myself.Of course there was someone who did the heavy lifting for me, but it was my idea. They moved into this house two years ago.He knew, and Julia knew, that since they were on tour at the time, he had entrusted the work to a well-paid interior decorator, who had promised to have it all done for them when they returned, at a cost of Pay him back for the work in the theater they promised him.But there's no need to dwell on such tedious details to a lad who doesn't even know his name.

The interior furnishings of this house are extremely elegant, and the ancient and modern are well matched, so what Michael said is right, this place can be seen as a residence of an elegant person.Yet Julia insisted that her bedroom must call her own heart.After the end of the war (Note: Refers to the end of the First World War in 1918.), they had been living in Regent's Garden (Note: (Resent's Park) in Northwest London, the Regent's Canal flows through it.), She had a bedroom she wanted in the old residence, so she moved it all over as usual.The bed and dresser are upholstered in pink silk, and the chaise longue and armchair are light blue.Above the bed were a few fat cherubs painted in gold, hanging in the air together with a lamp with a pink shade, and several fat cherubs painted in gold gathered around the dressing table mirror.Several satinwood tables hold signed photographs of actors, actresses and royalty in ornate frames.The decorator had raised his eyebrows in disdain, but this was the only room in the whole house where Julia felt truly at ease.She wrote letters at a satinwood desk, on a gilt-painted Hamlet-like stool.

The steward announced that lunch was ready, and they went downstairs together. I hope you have enough to eat, said Julia, Michael and I both have small appetites. In fact, dishes include grilled platefish, schnitzel and spinach, and simmered fruit.This meal was originally prepared for normal hunger, not for gaining fat.The cook, informed by Marguerite that a visitor was coming for lunch, hastily fried some potatoes.They look crunchy and have an appetizing aroma.But only the young guest wanted to eat.Julia looked at them longingly, then shook her head in disapproval.Michael stared at it seriously for a while, as if he didn't quite understand what it was, then he suddenly woke up from the trance, and said no, thank you.They were seated at a long table, Julia and Michael in two tall Italian chairs at either end, and the young man in the middle of a chair, which was very uncomfortable to sit in, but which suited it very well. say.Julia noticed that he seemed to be looking at the sideboard.He leaned forward with a smile on his face. What do you want? His face flushed. I don't know if I can have a piece of bread. certainly. She winked at the butler; he was pouring Michael a glass of cognac, and turned and walked out of the dining room. Michael and I never eat bread.Foolish Jevons not to consider that you might ask for some. Eating bread was just a habit, of course, and Michael said it was a joy to get rid of it right away, if you set your mind to it. The poor little darling is scrawny, Michael. I don't eat bread because I'm afraid of getting fat.I didn't eat it because I didn't think it was necessary.After all, I exercise so often that I can eat whatever I like. He is now fifty-two years old and still in great shape.When he was young, he had thick curly chestnut hair, good skin, big dark blue eyes, a straight nose and small ears. He was once the most beautiful actor on the British stage.The only fly in the ointment is that his lips are a little thinner.He was exactly six feet tall and imposing.It was his striking good looks that led him to decide to pursue a stage career instead of becoming a soldier like his father.Now his chestnut hair is gray and much shorter; his face is wider and more wrinkled;But with his fine eyes and fine figure, he was still a very handsome man.He spent five years in the Great War and acquired a military demeanor, so if you didn't know who he was (unlikely, since his picture is always in pictorials in one form or another), you'd be mistaken for him Is a senior officer.He claims to have kept his weight constant since he was twenty, and for many years, rain or shine, he always got up at eight o'clock every morning, put on shorts and sneakers, and ran around the Regent's Garden. The secretary told me you were at a rehearsal this morning, Miss Lambert, said the young man, does that mean you're going to put on a new play? No, absolutely nothing, Michael replied, we're full houses. Michael thought we were getting a little worn out, so he asked us to do a rehearsal. Luckily I did.I found that in some places I didn't teach them to do that, but they did it quietly, and the lines were changed a lot at will.I'm adamant about reading my lines verbatim, though, God knows, playwrights write really bad lines these days. If you'd like to come to our play, said Julia gallantly, I'm sure Michael would be happy to save a few places for you. I'd love to see it again, replied the young man eagerly. I've seen it three times. is that so?exclaimed Julia in amazement, though she clearly remembered that Michael had told her so.It's not a bad script, it's just right for us, but I can't imagine anyone having to read it three times. I go to the theater is secondary, mainly to see your performance. I've got him at last, thought Julia, and then said aloud that when we first read the play Michael was really not sure about it.He didn't think my role was very good.You know, it's not really a star role.But I think it can be played well.Of course we had to cut out the other female character a lot during rehearsals. I'm not saying we rewrote the script, said Michael, but I can tell you that what we did was a lot different from the script the writer gave us. You are simply amazing, said the young man. (There's something charming about him.) I'm glad you like me, she replied. Since you adore Julia so much, I'm sure she'll send you a picture of herself when you go. Do you know? He blushed again, and his blue eyes sparkled. (He was indeed quite lovely.) He was not particularly beautiful, but his face was open and innocent, and his shyness was endearing.He had curly light brown hair that clung to his scalp unfortunately, and Julia thought he would look much better if he didn't smooth out the waves with pomade, but had a nice cut.His face was rosy, his skin was smooth, and his teeth were small and straight.She noticed that his clothes fit him well and dressed with style, and she secretly approved of him.He looks generous and neat. I assume you've never had any dealings with the theater interior?she says. there has never been.That's why I'm desperately trying to get this job.You can't imagine how excited this job is for me. Michael and Julia smiled kindly at him.His admiration made them feel their own heights. I never let outsiders come to our rehearsals, but since you are our accountant you almost belong to the theater, and I can make an exception for you if you really like to come. That's very kind of you.I have never in my life seen a rehearsal.Will you act in the next play? Oh, I probably won't act.I'm not that interested in acting anymore.I can hardly find a role that suits me.You see, I'm not likely to play the young lover well at my age, and playwrights don't seem to write the kind of characters they wrote when I was young anymore.That is what the French call a preacher (Note: The original text is raisonneur, which refers to the role of commentary, preaching and explanation in the play.).You know the kind of person I mean, a duke, a cabinet member, or a well-known counselor to the Crown, with clever witticisms to make you spin on his little finger.I don't know what happened to those writers.They don't seem to be able to write good lines anymore.Cooking without rice (Note: The original text is bricks without straw, literally translated as bricks without grass, from the "Bible. Exodus": On that day, Pharaoh ordered the supervisors and officials to say, you must not give grass to the people to make bricks as usual, and let them Pick up grass by yourself.) Now we actors are asked to cook without rice.So are they grateful to us?I mean, those writers.You'd be surprised if I told you the terms some of them had the nerve to ask. In fact we can't do without them, Julia said with a smile, and it's of no use if you play well if the script is bad. This is because the average person is not really interested in drama.In the heyday of British theater, people didn't go to the theater to see the play, but to see the actors.They don't ask Kemble (Note: John Philip Kemble (1757︱1823), Shakespeare actor, theater manager, who made many major reforms in stage art and theater management. Mrs. Siddons His sister.) and Mrs. Siddons in what.Audiences go to the theater to see them.Even now, although I don't deny that if the script is bad, you're screwed, I firmly believe that, even if the script is good, the audience goes to the actors, not to the play. I don't think anyone can deny that, said Julia. An actress like Julia, just needs a medium.Give her this and she can do the rest. Julia smiled delightedly but slightly dissentingly at the young man. You mustn't take my husband's word too seriously.I think we must admit that he was biased when he spoke of me. Unless the young man is a bigger fool than I imagined, he must know that you can do everything in acting. Oh, that's just what people think, because I'm always careful not to do anything I can't do. Michael immediately looked at his watch. I thought, boy, when you finish your coffee, we should go. The boy gulped down the rest of the coffee in his cup, and Julia got up from the table. You won't forget to give me a picture, will you? I think Michael has some in his little room.Come on, let's pick one. She took him into a rather spacious room behind the dining room.Although it was sort of Michael's private living room, one must have a room to hide away and smoke cigarettes alone, it was mostly used as a cloakroom when they had visitors.There is a magnificent mahogany writing desk inside, on which there are photos signed by George V (Note: 1910︱1936 King of England and Emperor of India; his wife is Queen Mary.) and Queen Mary.On top of the mantelpiece is an old copy of Lawrence's portrait of Kemble playing Hamlet.On a small table was a stack of typewritten scripts.The room was surrounded by bookshelves, and beneath them was a row of small cabinets, and from one of them Julia took out a bunch of her most recent photographs.She picked one and handed it to the young man. This one is okay. so gorgeous. Then it can't be too much like me, I thought it was. But it is very similar.It's just wonderful. She gave him a different kind of smile, a mischievous one, and she lowered her eyelids a little, then lifted them, and gazed at him for a moment with a soft expression, what they called her velvety eyes.There was no particular purpose in her glance.She does it, if not mechanically, then simply out of a pleasing instinct.The child was so young, so shy, and seemed so good-natured, and she would never see him again, and therefore thought he should be rewarded for spending money on seeing her plays again and again, and she wanted him to look back on this time. When you meet, you will feel that this is a big event in his life. She looked at her picture again.She wished she felt like this picture.With her cooperation, the photographer put her in the best pose, fully showing her beauty.Her nose was a bit too big, but he managed to use the light to make it very small. There was not a single wrinkle on her face to mar the smooth skin, and her eyes were full of love. good.Just take this one.You know I'm not a beautiful woman, not even a pretty one, Cochran used to say that I There is beaute du diable (Note: French, meaning the beauty of the devil, referring to the charming appearance.).do you know french I still understand this sentence. I'll sign it for you. She sat down at the desk and wrote in her unrestrained and smooth handwriting: Yours sincerely Julia.lambert.