He looked round to make sure there was no one near by and tugged on the brass door handle, but the door didn’t yield, it was locked. That was strange. As far as Fandorin was aware, the actors of the ‘Ark’ were not in the habit of locking their dressing rooms. Erast Petrovich found this small fact symbolic. Eliza would not allow him into her secret world, she wouldn’t let him get even a brief glimpse of it.
He walked on, shaking his head. Not only were most of the dressing rooms not locked, their doors were actually standing ajar. The very last door was firmly closed, but when he turned the handle tentatively, it swung open immediately.
The scene revealed to Fandorin’s surprised gaze was in the spirit of the indecent Japanese shunga prints that are so popular with foreigners. Right there on the floor, between the make-up tables with their mirrors, Masa, wearing a close-fitting ninja jacket, but without the lower half of his costume, was intently turning up the kimono of Serafima Aphrodisina, who played the part of a trainee geisha in the show.
‘Oh!’ the ‘coquette’ exclaimed, jumping to her feet and adjusting her clothing. Erast Petrovich did not get the impression that she was seriously embarrassed. ‘Congratulations on the premiere!’
Gathering up the hem of her kimono, she darted out through the door.
The Japanese watched her go regretfully.
‘Do you need me, master?’
‘So you’re having an affair with Aphrodisina and not…?’ Fandorin didn’t finish his question.
Masa got up and said philosophically:
‘Nothing turns women’s heads like a Great Success. This beautiful girl showed no interest in me before, but after a thousand people applauded and shouted and cheered, Sima-san started making such wide eyes at me, it would have been stupid and impolite to leave the matter without any continuation. Many women in the hall were looking at me in exactly the same way,’ he concluded, examining himself in the mirror with satisfaction. ‘Some of them said: “How handsome he is! A genuine Buddha!”’
‘Put your trousers on, Buddha.’
Leaving the newborn star to admire his irresistibly handsome features and adjust his clothing, Fandorin walked on. He really had come to dislike Masa. The worst thing was that this puffed-up nobody was right: now he would become even more attractive to Eliza – after all, actresses were so susceptible to the tinsel glitter of success! He ought to tell her about Masa’s monkey business with Aphrodisina – but unfortunately, for a noble man, that was quite inconceivable…
Erast Petrovich was so consumed by his misery, it didn’t occur to him that he was also enveloped in the glittering cloud of a Great Success. This fact was only made clear to him when he entered the buffet quietly, trying not to attract any attention. No such luck!
‘Here he is, our dear author! At last! Erast Petrovich!’ Everyone came dashing towards him, vying with each other to congratulate him on the brilliant premiere, the superb triumph and his new-found fame.
Stern raised a glass of champagne.
‘Here’s to a new name on the theatrical Mount Olympus, ladies and gentlemen!’
Madam Reginina in her purple kimono, her eyes extended with mascara (all the actors were still in their stage costumes and make-up), declared with feeling:
‘I have always been an advocate of an author’s theatre, not a director’s or actors’ theatre! You are my hero, Erast Petrovich! Ah, if only you had written a play about a woman who is no longer young, but whose heart is still vibrant and filled with powerful passions!’
She was elbowed aside by her former husband, with his gleaming false bald patch and waxed samurai pigtail.
‘It is only now that I have really understood the concept of your work. It is majestic! You and I have a lot in common. Some day I shall tell you the story of my life…’
But the company’s female ‘intriguer’ was already pushing herself forward, her lips extended to reveal a small-toothed smile.
‘The most interesting plays in the world are the ones in which the central character is on the side of evil. You have shown that brilliantly.’
On the other hand, Vasya Gullibin, who had still not removed the swords from his belt, thanked Fandorin for ‘giving villainy its comeuppance’ – which, in his opinion, was the most important idea of Fandorin’s play and of existence in general.
And then Erast Petrovich stopped seeing and hearing them, because Eliza came up to him, took his neck in her hot hand, stunning him with an aroma of violets, kissed him and whispered every so quietly:
‘My best one, my very best! Forgive me, my darling, there was nothing else I could do…’
She slipped away, yielding her place to others and leaving Fandorin tormented by uncertainty: had she really said ‘my darling’ and not just ‘my dear’? He wasn’t sure that he had heard her correctly. So much depended on that! But he couldn’t just ask her, could he?
Calm down, it means absolutely nothing, he told himself. Madam Lointaine is an actress, and she is also under the spell of a Great Success. For her I am no longer just a man, but a Highly Promising Dramatist. That kiss is not worth a thing and I cannot be lured into the same trap for a second time, no thank you very much. And he deliberately added an extra dash of bitterness by asking: But why is your chosen favourite nowhere to be seen, my lady?
He actually had not seen Limbach at the premiere today and had drawn the only possible conclusion: there was no need for the cornet to besiege the fortress, if it had already been taken. He must be waiting in a hotel room with flowers and champagne. Well, good luck to him. To coin a phrase – may your bed be feather-soft!
After the actors, the dramatist was congratulated by the very small number of guests – the banquet was for the ‘inner circle’ only. The influential reviewers whom Erast Petrovich had seen in the box came over and paid him condescending compliments. Then his elbows were taken by two extremely amiable gentlemen, one with a pince-nez and the other with a perfumed beard. They were interested in whether he had any more compositions in hand or ‘on the drawing board’. Stern immediately came flying across and wagged his finger at them jokingly.
‘Vladimir Ivanovich, Konstantin Sergeevich, no pilfering our authors now. Or I’ll poison both of you, as Salieri poisoned Mozart!’
The last person to approach him, when all the others had gone back to the table, was the patron of the muses, Shustrov. He didn’t pay any compliments, but took the bull by the horns immediately.
‘Could you write a scenario on a theme from Japanese life?’
‘I b-beg your pardon? I don’t know that word.’
‘A scenario is the word for a cinematographic play. It’s a new idea in the field of film-making. A detailed exposition of the action, with dramatic instructions and scenes described in detail.’
Fandorin was surprised.
‘But what for? As far as I’m aware, the film-maker simply tells the actors playing the roles how to stand and which way to move. After all, there isn’t any dialogue, and the plot can change, d-depending on money, the weather and how busy the actors are.’
‘That’s how it used to be. But all that will change soon. Let’s have a talk about it later.’