Part 72 (1/2)
Eight o'clock had struck, the cannon had announced the commencement of the play, the waiting throng pressed in, crowding each other, and the doors were closed.
Outside of the theatre it was silent and empty. The carriages had driven away. The people who could get no tickets had dispersed. Only the venders of photographs and eatables still sat in their booths, listening idly and sleepily to the notes of the music, which came in subdued tones through the board part.i.tion.
Suddenly the ground trembled slightly under the wheels of a carriage driven at furious speed. A pair of horses covered with foam appeared in the distance--in a few seconds a dusty victoria stopped before the Pa.s.sion Theatre.
”St, st!” said one of the box-tenders, appearing at the top of the stairs and hurrying down to prevent farther disturbance.
”Can I get a ticket?” asked the lady in the carriage.
”I am very sorry--but unfortunately every seat is filled.”
”Oh, Heaven! I lost an hour--one of the horses met with an accident, I have driven all night--I beg you--I _must_ get in!”
The box-tender shrugged his shoulders. ”Unfortunately it is impossible!” he said with an offensively lofty manner.
”I am not accustomed to find anything which I desire impossible, so far as it depends upon human beings to fulfill it,” she answered haughtily.
”I will pay any price, no matter whether it is a thousand marks, more or less--if you will get me even the poorest seat within the walls.”
”It is not a question of price!” was the smiling answer. ”If we had the smallest s.p.a.ce, we could have disposed of it a hundred times over to-day.”
”Then take me on the stage.”
”Oh, it is no use to speak of that--no matter who might come--no one is allowed there.”
”Then announce me to the burgomaster--I will give you my card.”
”I am very sorry, but I have no admittance to the stage during the performance. In the long intermission at twelve o'clock you might be announced, but not before.”
The countess' heart throbbed faster and faster. She could hear the notes of the music, she fancied she could distinguish the different voices, yet she was not permitted to enter. Now came the shouts of ”Hosanna!”--yes, distinctly--that was the entry into Jerusalem, those were the exulting throngs who attended him. If she could only look through a c.h.i.n.k--! Now, now it was still--then a voice--oh! she would recognize those tones among thousands. A draught of air bore them to her through the cracks in the walls. Yes, that was he; a tremor ran through every limb--he was speaking.
The world hung on his lips, joy was in every eye, comfort in every heart--within was salvation and she must stand without and could not go to her own husband. But he was not her husband, that had been her own wish. Now it was granted!
The ”foolish virgin” outside the door burst into tears like a child.
The man who had just refused her request so coldly, pitied her: ”If I only knew how to help you, I would do so gladly,” he said thoughtfully.
”I'll tell you! If it is so important come during the intermission, but on _foot_, without attracting attention, to the rear entrance of the stage--then I'll try to smuggle you in, even if it is only into the pa.s.sage for the chorus!”
”Oh, sir, I thank you!” said the countess with the look which a lost soul might give to the angel who opened the gates of Paradise.
”I will be there punctually at twelve. Don't you think I might speak to Herr Freyer during the intermission?” she asked timidly.
A smile of sorrowful pity flitted over the man's face. ”Oh, he speaks to no one. We are rejoiced every time that he is able to get through the performance.”
”Alas! is he so ill?”
”Yes,” replied the man in a tone very low as if he feared the very air might hear, ”very ill.”
Then he went up the stairs again to his post.
”Where shall we drive now?” asked Martin.