The Kapellmeister leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. He gave one fierce glance at the chorus over his shoulder. "Hush!" he cried, "No noise if you please. Attend to your scores, or go out. Now, Fraulein--sing."
Kaya pushed the chair to one side and moved closer to the piano, leaning on it and gazing out into the darkened House, at the rows of seats, ghostly and empty, and the black cave beyond. A Volkslied came to her mind, one she had heard as a child and been rocked to, a peasant song, simple and touching. Her lips parted slightly.
For a moment there was silence; then the tones came like a breath, soft and pianissimo, clear as the trill of a bird in the forest wooing its mate. It rose and fell, swelling out, filling the spaces, echoing through the vault.
"On the mountain-top were two little doves; Their wings were soft, they shimmered and shone. Dear little doves, pray a prayer--a prayer For the son of Fedotjen, Michäel--Michäel, For he is alone--alone."
With the last word, repeated, half whispered, the voice died away again; and she stood there, still leaning against the piano and clasping her hands, looking at the Kapellmeister with her blue eyes dark and pleading, like two wells. "Will it do?" she said with her voice faltering, "Will you take me, Herr Director--in the chorus?"
The Kapellmeister shrugged his shoulders: "You have no voice for a chorus," he said roughly, "Try this."
"I know," said Kaya, "My voice is not as it was. Helmanoff--" she laughed unsteadily, "He would be so angry if he heard me, and tell me to study, just as you told the Mademoiselle who went out; but I will do better, Monsieur, believe me. I will work so hard, and my voice will come back in time after--" She gazed at him and a mist came over her eyes. "Do take me," she said, "I beg you to take me--I beg you."
The Kapellmeister passed his hand over his face: "Tschut, child!" he said, "What are you talking about? Be quiet now and sing this as I tell you. You have heard it before?"
He handed her the score, running his fingers over the bird motive of 'Siegfried,' giving her the key. Then he leaned back again and folded his arms.
Kaya gave her head a little backward movement as if to free her throat, and threw off the cloak, standing straight.