Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [128]
The New World Symphony had little effect on Mildred, except that three airplanes went over while it was being played, and she became terrified lest one go over while Veda was singing, and ruin everything. But the sky was clear when she appeared again, looking much smaller than she had in the first half, quite girlish, a little pathetic. The parasol was gone, and the bonnet, instead of being on Veda's head, was carried in her hand. A single orchid was pinned to Veda's shoulder, and Mildred fiercely hoped that it was one of the six she had sent. The program said merely "Mad Scene from Lucia di Lammermoor," but there seemed to be a little more tension than usual before Mr. Treviso raised his stick, and presently Mildred knew she was present at a tremendous vocal effort. She had never heard one note of this music before, so 'far as she knew; it must have been rehearsed at the studio, not at home. After the first few bars, when she sensed that Veda was all right, that she would make no slip, that she would get through to the end, Mildred relaxed a little, permitted herself to dote on the demure, pathetic little figure pouring all this elaborate vocal fretwork out at the stars. There came a tap on her shoulder, and Mr. Pierce was handing her a pair of opera glasses. Eagerly she took them, adjusted them, levelled them at Veda. But after a few moments she put them down. Up close, she could see the wan, stagey look that Veda turned on the audience, 'and the sharp, cold, look that she constantly shot at Mr. Treviso, particularly when there was a break, and she was waiting to come in. It shattered illusion for Mildred. She preferred to remain at a distance, to enjoy this child as she seemed, rather than as she was.
The number was quite long, was in fact the longest number Mildred had ever heard, but when it was done the sound that swept over the vast amphitheatre was like thunder. Ved'a came out for bow after bow, and presently, after her dozenth or so reappearance, she came out followed by Mr. Treviso, and without hat or any encumbrance, just a simple, friendly little girl, hoping to be liked. A gentleman with a flute stepped forward, carrying a chair, 'and camped near Veda. When she saw him she 'went over and shook his hand. Then Mr. Treviso took the orchestra briskly through the introduction of Lo, Hear the Gentle Lark, and there was a ripple of applause, for this was one of the things that Veda had made popular on the radio. When she got through there were cheers, and she began a whole series of her radio numbers: Love's Old Sweet Song, Schubert's Ave Maria, an arrangement of the Blue Danube Waltz that permitted her to do vocal gingerbread while the orchestra played the tune, and a Waldteufel waltz Mr. Treviso had dug up for her, called Estudiantina.
Many of these had been called for, with insistent shouting, by the audience, and toward the end, the orchestra sat back and listened while Mr. Treviso accompanied her on the piano that had been pushed out during the intermission. Now Veda came out, and said: "Even if it's not a song that's supposed to be sung on a symphony program, may I sing a song just because I want to sing it?" As the audience broke into amiable applause, Monty looked at Mildred, and she sensed something coming. Then Mr. Treviso played a short introduction, and Veda began the song about