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.The look of sudden terror on the man's face convinced Evan that his father was finally feeling what Evan had felt, seeing what he had seen — the true face of the audience, that snarling mob with one pair of hungry eyes, yearning to see failure in whatever form it might present itself.He prayed his father could survive the knowledge of twenty-five years of self-delusion revealed in one night.After Quentin left Dennis backstage, John Steinberg cornered him in the lobby."Can he finish?" he asked, his face pale."He can finish.""Should I go back? Talk to him?""No.He just needs to be left alone right now.To get into character."Steinberg patted his brow with an immaculately pressed and pristinely white handkerchief."He never had to get into character before, Quentin.""Well, he does tonight.He's got to work it out.""Let's hope he does so in ten minutes or less.I hate giving refunds on five thousand dollar tickets."Quentin looked around the crowded lobby and thought that he had never seen such a lively crowd."I think they're getting their money's worth," he said bitterly."The only thing better would be if we sacrificed a few Christians." Then he pressed a smile from his tight lips."But don't worry, John.Dennis will be all right."High up in the production booth, Curtis Wynn had little time to worry.He was too busy preparing for the second act.Still, he could not escape the memory of that terrible moment when Dennis had not only gone up, but totally stepped out of character and pretty much stayed there until the curtain.No one could blame Curt, of course, but he wanted, as always, a show that was perfect, nothing less, and he had been getting it right up to the point that Dennis had floated away into Cloud-Cuckooland.What the hell had happened? Had he seen something? Maybe this purported stalker flitting around in the wings like some latterday Phantom of the Opera?He tried to shake away the thoughts and doubts, warned the crew to prepare for the early cues of Act II, Scene 1, gave the cue for the two minute bell to signal the dawdlers to return to their seats, and looked down at the huge red curtain that covered the stage, at the orchestra members all sitting in the pit, ready to begin the entr'acte, which would start in exactly 120 seconds.Despite everything, the show would go on.~ * ~Quentin Margolis stood at the back of the rear orchestra section and watched the first scene with tension in his stomach.He thought it would go well, and it did.Kelly Sears as Lise, Dan Marks as Kruger, and Wallace Drummond as Kronstein all played the scene to near perfection.Quentin detected slight nervousness on Drummond's part, though nothing that was noticeable by the audience.The scene between Dennis and Steven Peters as the peasant spy followed.It was weak, if not pitiful, and Quentin ached inside for Dennis.He had no doubt his friend would get through the rest of the performance, but he would be ending his acting career on the lowest note possible.He could watch no more.He turned and quietly walked through the inner foyer, thinking that he might sit in the lobby.But through the curtained glass he saw the dim, hulking shapes of security guards there, and went down the curving staircase instead to the lower lounge.The large room, filled with easy chairs and couches less opulent and far more comfortable than those of the lobby or the mezzanine lobby, was unoccupied, and Quentin eased himself onto a couch, put his head back, and closed his eyes to try and quell the headache that had begun to throb at his temples.After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked around the room.A door across the room and to his right went to the ladies' lounge and rest rooms, that on his left to the men's.Directly ahead of him was a closed cloakroom, and to the left a false fireplace with a black marble fireback and mantel.The mantel was beautifully carved with entwining vines and the figure of a faun in the center, its curled beard roiling downward into its triangular torso, which became lost in the vines at its navel.Looking at the erotic figure, Quentin wished he could get his own waist that slim.When he put his head back again and looked up he saw the bas-reliefs on the ceiling.Though they, like the furniture, were not as grand as those of the more open areas off the main lobby, they were nicely rendered — white, cherubic faces ringing the baroque molding, with larger heads puffing plaster clouds at each of the room's four corners.The four winds, Quentin thought, and he smiled.Blow me out of here.He closed his eyes again and entered a state of semi-consciousness that was not quite sleep, for he remained aware of where he was and what was happening on the stage.From far away he heard the Prime Minister Basil's solo, "Only for the Crown," in which Basil regrets the machinations he is forced to use to bring about the betrothal of Frederick and Maria, and knew that Scene 4, in which Frederick learns of Lise's death, would follow.Quentin did not want to see it.He kept his eyes closed, remaining in his self-induced trance, until he heard a sound he did not recognize.It was a grinding noise, as if stone teeth were gnashing
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