Part 59 (1/2)

Three dull knocks were heard. They were the signal that the court had entered the pa.s.sage leading from the palace to the theater. Every eye, every opera-gla.s.s was directed to the royal box.

The queen entered, radiant with youthful beauty. The n.o.bles who occupied the first tier arose. She bowed graciously, and then sat down, and attentively read the playbill that was fastened to the front of the box. The king entered soon after and took the seat beside her. He, too, saluted the n.o.bles who were still standing, and who seated themselves at the same time he did, just as if they were part of himself.

The king reached back for his lorgnette, which was handed to him, and surveyed the audience, while the orchestra played the overture. Irma's wish was realized. Since the new intendant had come into power, there was music at the beginning of the play and during the _entr'actes_.

”Who's sitting behind the queen?”

”Countess von Wildenort.”

She wore a single rose in her brown hair. She was exchanging a few complimentary remarks with Colonel Bronnen, and was smiling and showing her pearly teeth.

A young critic in the pit said to his neighbor:

”It is surely not without design that Countess Wildenort, like Emilia Galotti, wears only a single rose in her hair.”

There was so much talking during the overture, that those who desired to listen to the music frequently hissed, but without avail; for it was not until the curtain rose that the audience became silent.

It is not until near the end of the first act of the play that there is any occasion for marked applause. The prince's haste and prejudice are shown in his readiness to sign the death-warrant, while the carriage waits for him. Old privy councilor Rota withdraws the doc.u.ment.

In order to mark the festal character of the evening's performance, the intendant had selected music by celebrated composers, for the _entr'actes_. The malicious maintained that this was only done in order to prevent discussion of the play, which had not been performed for many years. If this had really been the intention, the lively conversation, both in the royal box and among the rest of the audience, prevented its success.

In reply to a remark of the king's, the intendant said:

”The role of Rota, although insignificant, is quite a graceful one, and, in this, Lessing has proved himself the master. Another advantage is that the part can be played by a veteran.”

The queen looked around in surprise--was this mere acting, instead of a living, thrilling fact?

They went on with the play. The scene between Appiani and Marinelli aroused tumultuous applause. The queen never once left her place, although it was her wont between the acts to retire to the _salon_ near her box; and Irma, as first maid of honor, was obliged to remain in attendance.

Between the third and fourth acts, the lord steward met Bronnen in the corridor and said: ”If they would only get through with this confounded, democratic play. The sweet rabble down there may become demonstrative.” The next act was the fourth, containing the scene between Orsina and Marinelli. The queen held her fan with a convulsive grasp. She saw and heard all that pa.s.sed on the stage while, with strained attention, she listened to the quickened breathing of Irma, who stood behind her. She longed to turn round suddenly and look into her face, but did not venture to do so. With one and the same glance, she saw the figures on the stage and watched her husband's countenance.

Her eyes and ears did double service. It was all she could do to control herself. The play went on. Orsina and Odoardo--if Irma were now to faint--What then? What had she done in having this piece performed?--Orsina hands the dagger to her father, and at last rises into a frenzy of fury. ”If we, all of us,” she cried, ”this whole host of forsaken ones, were transformed into bacchantes and furies, with him in our possession, and were tearing him to pieces and rending the flesh from his limbs--yea, tearing out his vitals in order to find the heart which the traitor promised to each and yet gave to none! Ah, what a dance that would be! That would--”

If Irma should cry out!--The queen clutched the rail of the box with convulsive grasp. She felt as if she, herself, must cry out to the audience.

But all was as silent as before.

When the scene was over, the king, addressing Irma, in a careless tone, said: ”Muller plays excellently, does she not?”

”Wonderfully, Your Majesty, although some parts were overacted. The pa.s.sage, 'I have nothing to pardon, because I have not been offended,'

she gave in too sharp a tone, and her voice seemed unnatural. The sentences of one who had been thus openly humiliated should be more like dagger thrusts; the words should prepare us for the sharp point of the dagger that follows them.”

Irma's voice was firm and clear. The queen fanned herself, in order to cool her burning face and prevent herself from betraying her agitation.

One whose conscience reproved her could not have spoken thus. Her voice must have faltered and the terrible lesson of the play itself must have petrified her, thought the queen, as she turned toward Irma and nodded pleasantly.

I am stronger than I imagined, thought Irma to herself, smoothing her gloves. While she heard Odoardo's words, a mist had arisen before her eyes. If it had been her father--and it might have been he. A cry arose from her heart, but did not pa.s.s her lips; and now she was quiet and self-composed. The play progressed without interruption, and, when it was over, the audience were not content until they had twice called the Odoardo of the evening before the curtain. The king joined in the applause.

The court party returned to the palace, and retired to the queen's apartments for tea.

The queen was cheerful, as if she had escaped from some danger. For the first time in a long while her bearing was easy and vivacious. A dread load had been lifted from her heart. She was now free and vowed that she would never more think basely of any one; and, least of all, of her neighbor.