The Black Cross Part 39

"Then come with me now," cried the Kapellmeister, "As you are! Is that your hat on the nail? Put it on. The placards are out--and the orchestra sits in the pit, waiting. I have promised them a Walkure with a voice like a bell! Come, Kaya--come! You are not nervous, little one, or afraid?"

Kaya ran lightly to the peg and took down her hat. She was laughing, and her face was alight as if the sun-beams had touched it; her lips were parted and the dimples came and went in her cheeks:

"Now--my cloak!" she cried, "Quick! Help me--the right sleeve, dear master, can you find it? Yes--yes! And my gloves--here they are!"

"Kaya, your face is like a rose and your feet are dancing."

She blushed. "You don't know," she said, "I have dreamed all my life of being Brunnhilde. When I feel the helmet and the s.h.i.+eld on my breast, and the touch of the spear--it is like wine!" She stopped suddenly and pa.s.sed her hand over her face.

"What is it, Kaya?"

"I forgot," she said, "I forgot--! Take my cloak; take my hat! I cannot sing. I forgot!"

Ritter stared at her: "What do you mean, child; what are you talking about? Is it fright? Tschut! It will pa.s.s." He took the cloak again and laid it about her shoulders: "Come now, the orchestra will be growing impatient. It is ten o'clock past."

"I cannot," said Kaya, and her lip trembled: "Telegraph to Dresden, dear Master--quickly!"

"Potztausend--and why?"

She backed slowly away from him and the cloak fell to the ground.

"Kaya, you shake as if you had a chill!"

"Can Brunnhilde sit aloft in the flies?" she said, "She is there in front of the footlights and everyone sees her. Oh--I forgot!"

"Donnerwetter! Of course she is seen! Is it the sight of the audience that will frighten you?"

"No," she said, "not the audience."

Ritter made an impatient movement forward: "What then? Sacrement! You were full of joy not a moment ago; there was no fear in your eyes, and now--it is as if someone had struck you!" He followed her to the corner where she had retreated step by step; and when she could go no further, he laid his hands on her shoulders.

"Look at me," he said, "straight in the eyes, Kaya, straight in the eyes. You must."

"I--cannot!"

"I tell you you must."

He bent over her, and she felt his hands bearing heavily on her shoulders; his eyes were flas.h.i.+ng, insistent, determined: "You must."

"I cannot."

"Come."

She shook her head.

"Kaya--! You have been like my child! I--I love you as my own daughter! Your career, your success is dear to me. I have ventured more than you know on this chance--that you might have it. The town is crowded with strangers. The House will be full. They will hear you and your fame may be made in a night! What is the matter with you, little one?"

"I cannot," said Kaya.

His grasp grew heavier. "If you throw away this chance--listen to me--it may be years before you have another. You are young, and managers are hard to approach; you found that yourself. It is the merest accident of fate that the Schultz should be ill just now, while no other soprano is on hand, and you know the part. You sang it for me, Kaya, that night, and your voice was Brunnhilde's own. Would you be a coward now? Come, and let me cover you with the s.h.i.+eld and the helmet; when you feel the spear in your hand the fright will leave you.

It is not like you to be afraid, Kaya. Your eyes are like a doe's!

Don't be frightened, little one."

She looked at him and tried to speak, but no words came.

"If I yielded to you, Kaya, if I let you be conquered by the stage-terror once, it would be a rock in your path forever. Come with me! My will is strong, stronger than yours, and I swear you shall come! If I have to carry you in my arms to the stage, you shall come; and you will thank me for it afterwards when the terror has pa.s.sed."

"No--no!" The girl pressed closer against the wall, "Don't, dear Master, take your hands from my shoulders. I cannot!"

"Come."

"No."

He stared down into the blue eyes: "I tell you you shall come. You are throwing away the chance of a lifetime; do you understand? If you have no care for your own future, I shall care for it for you. Kaya!"

"No."

"Come, I tell you!"

His eyes were hard and cold, and her form was slight; it reeled in his grasp. She gazed at him and her chin was set like his own.

"If you care for me, Kaya, if you are grateful--" he hesitated, "Ah, come with me, Kaya! It is not fear I see in your eyes; it is something else. What is it? Tell me!" He put his arm about her shoulders suddenly, and the harsh look left his face: "Confide in me, little one, I won't try to force you. You are slight and frail, but your will is like iron; it is useless. If I carried you it would be useless."

Kaya took a quick breath. "Dear Master," she said, "It is not the audience I fear, not the audience, but it is someone in the audience.

If that someone should see me and--and recognize me!"

"You forget, Kaya; did I recognize you?"

"No, but the foot-lights were not in my face. When the House is crowded and the curtain is up, and the glare is full in my eyes, then--"

"You are disguised by the hair red-blonde, and the helmet covering. No one could tell! At a distance you are not Kaya, you are Brunnhilde.

Brunnhilde is always the same. When your eyes are hidden, Kaya, and your curls--the House is large--no one could tell!" He was drawing her slowly toward the door.

"You did not," said Kaya, "but--if he were there he would know."

"Who?"

She looked at him mutely, and he took his hand from her shoulder.

"Whoever it is," exclaimed Ritter harshly, "from the House, I swear to you, your own mother would not know you, unless she had seen you before in the part. That is nonsense! From the orchestra perhaps, from the conductor's stand--but not from the House. Kaya, you hurt me, child; you hurt me sorely if you refuse!"

He stood before her with his arms folded. "My heart is set on your success," he said, "and if--"

Kaya, looking up suddenly, saw that there were tears in his eyes.

"Master," she cried. And then her will broke suddenly like iron in a furnace, red-hot under the stroke of the hammer. "You are sure?" she cried, "From the House no one would know me? You are sure?"

"I am sure."

She hesitated, looking away from him.