Free Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy by Judith Gould Page A

baths. Then Count Kokovtsov had arrived, and a pall had descended upon them all. Since travel ling with the troupe, Senda had met her share of unpleasant characters, and something inside told her that Kokovtsov was not a man one crossed lightly, if one dared cross him at all.
    'Despite its size and splendour, this palace is a private home and is to be regarded as such. It is filled with treasures from around the world, and because of that, the rules I have out lined must be followed to the letter, as much for your protec tion as for that of Their Highnesses. This way, should anything be damaged or missing, none of you will be held accountable. I assume I am making myself perfectly clear?'
    All too clear, Senda thought bitterly as she levelly returned the Count's pompous gaze. Obviously he was trying to instill fear in all of them, thereby causing each of them to spy upon the other. Well, she could voice her opinion about that.
    Clearing her throat, she stepped forward and conveyed her opinion that so many strictures might stifle the creative impulses so important to acting.
    The Count cocked an eyebrow and regarded her coldly. 'Be that as it may, I assume that you are seasoned professionals? As such, you have surely played a variety of places, each of which has had certain rules of etiquette. So it is here. Obeying our household rules should be second nature. As long as you do not abuse the privileges provided you here, there is nothing to worry about. You need only concern yourselves with giving a good performance.'
    Later that evening, after eating, bathing, and putting her tiny daughter to bed, Senda considered the restraints the Count had put upon the troupe. Much as she despised any rules, whose bases were deeply rooted distrust, she felt curiously relieved. Surely under such stringent observation Schmarya would find himself unable to do anything which might further his vengeful goals, thereby sabotaging the troupe's chances for success. He was occupied now with several other men of the troupe examining the theatre.
    Breathing a sigh of relief, she concentrated on familiarizing herself with the script of The Lady of the Camellias. She gave silent thanks that, during their countless afternoon trysts in the forest, Schmarya had taught her to read—and that she'd continued learning on her own over the past three years. But she didn't study long. Soon she turned off the solitary lamp in the room she shared with Schmarya and Tamara and fell into the most sound and peaceful sleep she had enjoyed in weeks.
     
    Four o'clock in the afternoon the next day, Senda was alone, pacing the stage of the private theatre in the Danilov Palace. The servant whose duty it was to keep an eye on her had left her in peace and was waiting outside in the hallway. Senda's face was screwed up in concentration, deepening her dimple as she recited her lines, summoning them from memory. Her voice rose and fell with thick emotion. '. . . and my impulses unquestioningly. I had found such a man in the Duke, but old age neither protects nor consoles, and one has other needs. Then I met you. Young! Ardent! Happy! The tears I saw you shed for me, your anxiety over my health, your mysterious visits during my illness . . . your honesty. Your enthusi asm . . . your enthusiasm . . . your enthusiasm . . .' She had to consult the script again. 'Oh, damn!' she blurted out, then bit down on her pink underlip and scowled. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. Hers was the central character, and as such, she had the most lines. Many, many more than she had anticipated. She realized now her unmitigated gall. Acting the part of Marguerite Gautier was not the simple matter she had convinced herself it would be. And to think she had believed that she knew the entire play by heart! By rote!
    She sighed heavily, her bosom rising slowly, than falling. It was a fine time to discover that she had deluded herself. Not that the lines weren't on the tip of her tongue at