But this is only a secondary matter. For the present the avalanche of reproaches that fell on me was quite sufficient. A regular scene took place between Mitzi and her detective-composer. (For wasn't I a student in both these callings, of which I can only say that either is the worse?)
You, who have been kind enough to read these confessions, you know that I gave my inmost heart to the composition of my _Lady Macbeth_, and you will learn only too soon how I fared. So much for the composer. Now for the detective. You also know with what care I investigated "The Mystery of the Griseldis score," how patiently I waited and kept my suspicions for myself as long as I was not sure. If in the end I was deceived by appearances, if I made a blunder, was it my fault? What business had Fanny to walk out with Giulay, and Mitzi to embark upon an operatic career against the wish of her father?
Well, we were very busy, Mitzi saying nasty things to me, and I trying to soften her, when we heard Mr. Doblana's key turning in the lock. He was coming home from his rehearsal. Then we perceived the noise of a smaller key. He was opening the letter box. And after a minute he walked in, finding us seated in two opposite corners of the room, as far as possible from each other--Mitzi looking sullen--I meek.
And he? Gracious me, what a sour face he made. He walked up and down for a minute or so, and if there had been on our part the slightest wish to talk, we would not have dared to do it, so cheerful did he look.
At last he mumbled a few words about treachery, respect due by the children and so on, and after these short preliminaries the storm, the third one of the day, broke forth. He had just received a letter from the manager of the Brünn municipal theatre. Miss Doblana not being of age, her father was required to endorse the contract.
My word, he was in a rage. No!--he was not going to give his consent to such utter folly. He was indignant at being deceived in this way.
"Have I not a thousand times expressed my wish that you should not go on the stage?"
"Oh," answered Mitzi sweetly, "you have certainly done it more than a thousand times. But I have failed to understand why."
"Is the example of your unhappy aunt, of La Carina, not enough?"