"Ach, mein Gott! I thought I was back on the Riviera, and it was moon-light.-- Snare me another Brünnhilde, can't you?" The great tenor laughed and put his finger to his lips: "Singing with the Lehmann spoils one," he said, "Bah--! It was frightful to-night! She grows always worse. Would the bird were a goddess instead." He waved his hand: "Good-night!"
"Good-night," said the Kapellmeister, hurrying on.
"Ritter--hey! Stop a moment! What has come over the Neumann?"
Mime straightened his back that was stiff from much crouching: "Ausgeworfen?"
The singer laughed: "The way Perron jumped! Did you see him? With the first note he gaped open-mouthed into the branches, and came within an ace of dropping his sword. I chuckled aloud in the wings. Who is she, Kapellmeister?"
"Good-night--good-night!" cried Ritter, "excuse me, but I am late and in a hurry. This opera conducting is frightfully wearing; I am limp as a rag. Good-night!" he ran on.
The doors of the dressing-rooms stood open, and he peered into them, one after the other. In some the electric light was still on, and the costumes were scattered about on the open trunks. The principals were gone already, and most of the chorus; and the men of the orchestra went hurrying by like shadows, with their instruments under their arms. In the House itself, behind the asbestos curtain, which was lowering slowly, came the sound of seats swinging back, and the voices of the ushers as they rushed to and fro.
"Kaya!" called the Kapellmeister softly, "Where are you?" He hurried from room to room.
The dressing-room of Madame Schultz was on the second floor, up a short, winding stair-case, and the lights were turned low. Ritter paused in the doorway.
The prima-donna was standing before the pier-glass, still in costume; her soft, white robes trailed over the floor, and her red-blonde hair hung to her waist. The helmet glittered on her head, and she held her spear aloft as if about to utter the Walküre cry. The figure was superb, magnificent; a goddess at bay. And as the Kapellmeister stared at her in astonishment, he saw that she was tense with emotion.
"Madame," he stammered, "You! You--still here?"
Her face was to the glass, her back to the door; she wheeled about quickly and faced him: "Yes, I am here!" she cried, "Brünnhilde is here! The House was cold to me to-night--they clapped Perron. It was all Siegfried. They would have hissed me if they had dared." The spear shook in her trembling hand.