merton of the movies-第25部分

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or　the　dance　right　down　to　the　last　scene。　Don't　artists　get　the　razz；　though。　And　that　Hugo；　he'd　spend　a　week　in　the　hot　place　to　save　a　thin　dime。　Let　me　tell　you；　Countess；　don't　you　ever　get　your　lemon　in　his　squeezer。〃

There　were　audible　murmurs　of　sympathy　from　the　Countess。

〃And　so　the　old　trouper　had　to　start　out　Monday　morning　to　peddle　the　brush。　Took　him　three　days　to　land　anything　at　all；　and　then　it's　nothing　but　a　sleeping　souse　in　a　Western　bar…room　scene。　In　here　now　he　issomething　the　Acme　people　are　doing。　He's　had　three　days；　just　lying　down　with　his　back　against　a　barrel　sleeping。　He's　not　to　wake　up　even　when　the　fight　starts；　but　sleep　right　on　through　it；　which　they　say　will　be　a　good　gag。　Well；　maybe。　But　it's　tough　on　his　home。　He　gets　all　his　rest　daytimes　and　keeps　us　restless　all　night　making　a　new　kind　of　beer　and　tending　his　still；　and　so　on。　You　bet　Ma　and　I；　the　minute　he's　through　with　this　piece；　are　going　pronto　to　get　that　face　of　his　as　naked　as　the　day　he　was　born。　Pa's　so　temperamentallike　that　time　he　was　playing　a　Bishop　and　never　touched　a　drop　for　five　weeks；　and　in　bed　every　night　at　nine…thirty。　Me？　Oh；　I'm　having　a　bit　of　my　own　in　this　Acme　pieceGod's　Great　Outdoors；　I　think　it　isanyway；　I'm　to　be　a　little　blonde　hussy　in　the　bar…room；　sitting　on　the　miners'　knees　and　all　like　that；　so　they'll　order　more　drinks。　It　certainly　takes　all　kinds　of　art　to　make　an　artist。　And　next　week　I　got　some　shipwreck　stuff　for　Baxter；　and　me　with　bronchial　pneumonia　right　this　minute；　and　hating　tank　stuff；　anyway。　Well；　Countess；　don't　take　any　counterfeit　money。　So　long。〃

She　danced　through　a　doorway　and　was　goneshe　was　one　who　seldom　descended　to　plain　walking。　She　would　manage　a　dance　step　even　in　the　short　distance　from　the　castingoffice　door　to　the　window。　It　was　not　of　such　material；　Merton　Gill　was　sure；　that　creative　artists　were　moulded。　And　there　was　no　question　now　of　his　own　utter　seriousness。　The　situation　hourly　grew　more　desperate。　For　a　week　he　had　foregone　the　drug…store　pie；　so　that　now　he　recalled　it　as　very　wonderful　pie　indeed；　but　he　dared　no　longer　indulge　in　this　luxury。　An　occasional　small　bag　of　candy　and　as　much　sugar　as　he　could　juggle　into　his　coffee　must　satisfy　his　craving　for　sweets。　Stoically　he　awaited　the　endsome　end。　The　moving…picture　business　seemed　to　be　still　on　the　rocks；　but　things　must　take　a　turn。

He　went　over　the　talk　of　the　Montague　girl。　Her　father　had　perhaps　been　unfairly　treated；　but　at　least　he　was　working　again。　And　there　were　other　actors　who　would　go　unshaven　for　even　a　sleeping　part　in　the　bar…room　scene　of　God's　Great　Outdoors。　Merton　Gill　knew　one；　and　rubbed　his　shaven　chin。　He　thought；　too；　of　the　girl's　warning　about　counterfeit　money。　He　had　not　known　that　the　casting　director's　duties　required　her　to　handle　money；　but　probably　he　had　overlooked　this　item　in　her　routine。　And　was　counterfeit　money　about？　He　drew　out　his　own　remaining　bill　and　scrutinized　it　anxiously。　It　seemed　to　be　genuine。　He　hoped　it　was；　for　Mrs。　Patterson's　sake；　and　was　relieved　when　she　accepted　it　without　question　that　night。

Later　he　tested　the　handful　of　silver　that　remained　to　him　and　prayed　earnestly　that　an　increase　of　prosperity　be　granted　to　producers　of　the　motion　picture。　With　the　silver　he　eked　out　another　barren　week；　only　to　face　a　day　the　evening　of　which　must　witness　another　fiscal　transaction　with　Mrs。　Patterson。　And　there　was　no　longer　a　bill　for　this　heartless　society　creature。　He　took　a　long　look　at　the　pleasant　little　room　as　he　left　it　that　morning。　The　day　must　bring　something　but　it　might　not　bring　him　back　that　night。

At　the　drug　store　he　purchased　a　bowl　of　vegetable　soup；　loaded　it　heavily　with　catsup　at　intervals　when　the　attendant　had　other　matters　on　his　mind；　and　seized　an　extra　halfportion　of　crackers　left　on　their　plate　by　a　satiated　neighbour。　He　cared　little　for　catsup；　but　it　doubtless　bore　nourishing　elements；　and　nourishment　was　now　important。　He　crumpled　his　paper　napkin　and　laid　upon　the　marble　slab　a　trifling　silver　coin。　It　was　the　last　of　his　hoard。　When　he　should　eat　next　and　under　what　circumstances　were　now　as　uncertain　as　where　he　should　sleep　that　night；　though　he　was　already　resolving　that　catsup　would　be　no　part　of　his　meal。　It　might　be　well　enough　in　its　place；　but　he　had　abundantly　proved　that　it　was　not；　strictly　speaking；　a　food。

He　reached　the　Holden　studios　and　loitered　outside　for　half　an　hour　before　daring　the　daily　inquiry　at　the　window。　Yet；　when　at　last　he　did　approach　it；　his　waning　faith　in　prayer　was　renewed；　for　here　in　his　direst　hour　was　cheering　news。　It　seemed　even　that　his　friend　beyond　the　window　had　been　impatient　at　his　coming。

〃Just　like　you　to　be　late　when　there's　something　doing！〃　she　called　to　him　with　friendly　impatience。　〃Get　over　to　the　dressing　rooms　on　the　double…quick。　It's　the　Victor　people　doing　some　Egyptian　stuff　they'll　give　you　a　costume。　Hurry　along！〃

And　he　had　lingered　over　a　bowl　of　soggy　crackers　soaked；　at　the　last；　chiefly　in　catsup！　He　hurried；　with　a　swift　word　of　thanks。

In　the　same　dressing　room　where　he　had　once　been　made　up　as　a　Broadway　pleasure　seeker　he　now　donned　the　flowing　robe　and　burnoose　of　a　Bedouin；　and　by　the　same　grumbling　extra　his　face　and　hands　were　stained　the　rich　brown　of　children　of　the　desert。　A　dozen　other　men　of　the　paler　race　had　undergone　the　same　treatment。　A　sheik　of　great　stature　and　noble　mien　smoked　an　idle　cigarette　in　the　doorway。　He　was　accoutred　with　musket　and　with　pistols　in　his　belt。

An　assistant　director　presently　herded　the　desert　men　down　an　alley　between　two　of　the　big　stages　and　to　the　beginning　of　the　oriental　street　that　Merton　had　noticed　on　his　first　day　within　the　Holden　walls。　It　was　now　peopled　picturesquely　with　other　Bedouins。　Banners　hung　from　the　walls　and　veiled　ladies　peeped　from　the　latticed　balconies。　A　camel　was　led　excitingly　through　the　crowded　way；　and　donkeys　and　goats　were　to　be　observed。　It　was　a　noisy　street　until　a　whistle　sounded　at　the　farther　end；　then　all　was　silence　while　the　voice　of　Henshaw　came　through　the　megaphone。

It　appeared　that　long　shots　of　the　street　were　Henshaw's　first　need。　Up　and　down　it　Merton　Gill　strolled　in　a　negligent　manner；　stopping　perhaps　to　haggle　with　the　vendor　who　sold　sweetmeats　from　a　tray；　or　to　chat　with　a　tribal　brother　fresh　from　the　sandy　wastes；　or　to　purchase　a　glass　of　milk　from　the　man　with　the　goats。　He　secured　a　rose　from　the　flower　seller；　and　had　the　inspiration　to　toss　it　to　one　of　the　discreet　balconies　above　him；　but　as　he　stepped　back　to　do　this　he　was　stopped　by　the　watchful　assistant　director　who　stood　just　inside　a　doorway。　〃Hey；　Bill；　none　of　that！　Keep　your　head　down；　and　pay　no　attention　to　the　dames。　It　ain't　done。〃

He　strolled　on　with　the　rose　in　his　hand。　Later；　and　much　nearer　the　end　of　the　street　where　the　cameras　were；　he　saw　the　sheik　of　noble　mien　halt　the　flower　seller；　haggle　for　another　rose；　place　this　daintily　behind　his　left　ear　and　stalk　on；　his　musket　held　over　one　shoulder；　his　other　hand　on　a　belted　pistol。　Merton　disposed　of　his　rose　in　the　same　manner。　He　admired　the　sheik　for　his　stature；　his　majestic　carriage；　his　dark；　handsome；　yet　sinister　face　with　its　brooding　eyes。　He　thought　this　man；　at　least；　would　be　a　true　Arab；　some　real　son　of　the　desert　who　had　wandered　afar。　His　manner　was　so　much　more　authentic　than　that　of　the　extra　people　all　about。

A　whistle　blew　and　the　street　action　was　suspended。　There　was　a　long　wait　while　cameras　were　moved　up　and　groups　formed　under　the　direction　of　Henshaw　and　his　assistant。　A　band　of　Bedouins　were　now　to　worship　in　the　porch　of　a　mosque。　Merton　Gill　was　among　these。　The　assistant　director　initiated　them　briefly　into　Moslem　rites。　Upon　prayer　rugs　they　bowed　their　foreheads　to　earth　in　the　direction　of　Mecca。

〃What's　the　idea　of　this　here？〃　demanded　Merton　Gill's　neighbour　in　aggrieved　tones。

〃Ssh！〃　cautioned　Merton。　〃It's　Mass　or　something　like　that。〃　And　they　bent　in　unison　to　this　noon…tide　devotion。

When　this　was　done　Henshaw　bustled　into　the　group。　〃I　want　about　a　dozen　or　fifteen　good　types　for　the　cafe；〃　he　explained　to　his　assistant。　Merton　Gill　instinctively　stood　forward；　and　was　presently　among　those　selected。　〃You'll　do；〃　said　Henshaw；　nodding。　The　director；　of　course；　had　not　remembered　that　this　was　the　actor　he　had　distinguished　in　The　Blight　of　Broadway；　yet　he　had　again　chosen　him　for　eminence。　It　showed；　Merton　felt；　that　his　conviction　about　the　screen　value　of　his　face　was　not　ill　founded。

The　selected　types　were　now　herded　into　a　dark；　narrow；　low…ceiled　room　with　a　divan　effect　along　its　three　walls。　A　grizzled　Arab　made　coffee　over　a　glowing　brazier。　Merton　Gill　sat　cross…legged　on　the　divan　and　became　fearful　that　he　would　be　asked　to　smoke　the　narghileh　which　the　assistant　director　was　now　preparing。　To　one　who　balked　at　mere　cigarettes；　it　was　an　evil…appearing　device。　His　neighbour　who　had　been　puzzled　at　prayer…time　now　hitched　up　his　flowing　robe　to　withdraw　a　paper　of　cigarettes　from　the　pocket　of　a　quite　occidental　garment。

〃Go　on；　smoke　cigarettes；〃　said　the　assistant　director。

〃Have　one？〃　said　Merton's　neighbour；　and　he　took　one。　It　seemed　you　couldn't　get　away　from　cigarettes　on　the　screen。　East　and　West　were　here　one。　He　lighted　it；　though　smoking　warily。　The　noble　sheik；　of　undoubtedly　Asiatic　origin；　came　to　the　doorway　overlooking　the　assistant　director's　work　on　the　narghileh。　A　laden　camel　halted　near　him；　sneered　in　an　evil　manner　at　the　bystanders；　and　then；　lifting　an　incredible　length　of　upper　lip；　set　his　yellow　teeth　in　the　nearest　shoulder。　It　was　the　shoulder　of　the　noble　sheik；　who　instantly　rent　the　air　with　a　plaintive　cry：　〃For　the　love　of　Mike！keep　that　man…eater　off'n　me；　can't　you？〃

His　accent　had　not　been　that　of　the　Arabian　waste…land。　Merton　Gill　was　disappointed。　So　the　fellow　was　only　an　actor；　after　all。　If　he　had　felt　sympathy　at　all；　it　would　now　have　been　for　the　camel。　The　beast　was　jerked　back　with　profane　words　and　the　sheik；　rubbing　his　bitten　shoulder；　entered　the　cafe；　sitting　cross…legged　at　the　end　of　the　divan　nearest　the　door。

〃All　right；　Bob。〃　The　assist