Part 17 (2/2)
The young lord of Burgsdorf, who two hours previously had fallen asleep amidst the thunders of ”The Janissaries' March”--who, in perfect accord with his betrothed, had considered silly music a tiresome thing--now listened to those soft, floating sounds as intently as if they brought him a revelation.
He sat there, bent over, his eyes fixed immovably upon the young girl, who apparently put all her soul into the song, moving her head to and fro with an infinitely graceful motion.
When the song ended he breathed deeply and pa.s.sed his hand across his brow.
”My little singing bird,” said Dr. Volkmar, tenderly bending over his granddaughter and kissing her brow.
”Well, grandpapa, my voice has not exactly deteriorated in the last few months, has it?” she asked, teasingly, ”but it does not seem to please Herr von Eschenhagen. He does not say a word about it.”
She glanced with a childish pout over at Willibald, who now also arose and approached the piano. A slight flush suffused his face, and his usually quiet eyes flashed as he said in a low tone: ”Oh, it was beautiful, very beautiful!”
The young singer may have been accustomed to other compliments, but she felt the deep, honest admiration in the laconic words, and knew very well the impression the song had made. She smiled, therefore, as she replied: ”Yes, the song is beautiful. I have always had a regular triumph when I sang it as an addition to my role.”
”To your role!” replied Willibald, not understanding the expression.
”Yes, in the play from which I have just returned. Oh, it has been a splendid success, grandpapa. The manager would gladly have prolonged it, but I had already given the greater part of my vacation to it, and I wished to be with you at least a few weeks.”
The young lord listened with increasing astonishment.
Play! vacation! manager! What could all that mean? The doctor saw his surprise.
”Herr von Eschenhagen does not know your vocation, my child,” he said, quietly. ”My granddaughter has been educated for the opera.”
”How dryly you say that, grandpapa!” cried Marietta, springing up.
Straightening herself to the fullest height of her dainty figure, she added, with mock solemnity: ”For five months a member of the highly respected Ducal Court Theatre, a person of official honors and renown!”
Member of the Court Theatre! Willibald almost shuddered at those awful words. The obedient son of his mother shared her disdain of ”actresses.” Involuntarily he receded a step and glared horrified at the young lady who had imparted such awful news to him. She laughed merrily at this motion.
”You are not compelled to show so exceeding much respect and awe, Herr von Eschenhagen. I will allow you to remain near the piano. Has not Toni told you that I am on the stage?”
”Toni--no!” Willibald burst out, having lost his composure completely.
”But she is waiting for me. I must return to Furstenstein. I have tarried here already too long.”
”You are very polite,” laughed the girl, gayly. ”That is not very flattering to us, but since you are engaged you must naturally return to your fiancee.”
”Yes, and to my mamma,” said Willibald, who had a dark feeling that something awful threatened him, before which his mother appeared as a saving angel. ”I beg your pardon, but I have stayed here already too long----”
He stopped, for he remembered that he had already said that once, and searched for other words, but could not find any, and, unhappily, repeated the phrase for the third time.
Marietta almost choked with laughter, but Dr. Volkmar declared politely that they did not wish to detain him any longer, and begged him to take his regards to the Chief Forester and Fraulein von Schonan.
The young lord scarcely heard. He looked for his hat, made a bow, stammered a few words of adieu and ran off as if his head was burning.
He had but one thought--that he must leave as quickly as possible; that gay, teasing laugh made him crazy.
When Volkmar, who had escorted Willibald to the door, returned, his granddaughter was wiping the tears from her eyes, quite overcome with laughter.
”I believe something is wrong with Toni's betrothed here,” she cried, putting a delicate ringer to her forehead. ”At first he ran behind me, mutely carrying the bag like a fish wife; then he seemed to thaw at my singing, and now he is seized with an attack of something and runs away to Furstenstein to his 'mamma,' so quickly that I could not even send a greeting to his betrothed.”
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