Several hundred metres high in the air above the heads of the spectators circled a great airship of the Zeppelin type. That, according to the rumor, was to be the bearer of the surprise.
Franka sat in one of the boats with her companion and several other of Toker’s house-guests. General conversation was going on, and Franka, leaning back on her cushion, gave herself up to her thoughts. A peculiar melancholy weighed on her spirit—a feeling of isolation. A few hours previous there had been awaiting her something which she had looked forward to with keen anticipation, something which promised to give her a powerful emotion:—the visit of Prince Victor Adolph. Helmer had been responsible for this expectation. The words in his letter were, “He worships you”; he must have known it, else he would not have written so authoritatively, and those three words had gone through her like an electric shock. And what had the visit brought her? A bit of ill humor, nothing else. Not only the man did not worship her; he did not even understand her; her activities and her views were alien if not repulsive to him. Fortunately, she was not in love with him as yet, but only on the point of being. Consciously she had felt: It has not come as yet, but it is coming, it is coming.... She had heard it knocking at her door and had said, “Come in!”—but across the doorsill entered—nothing.
At this moment a mortar shot rang out. All looked up into the air. The Zeppelin began to descend in great spirals; now it was about fifty metres high. The basket and its passengers could be distinctly seen. Three or four persons were sitting in it and two forms were standing close to the rail. Another shot: the rail was thrown open. For Heaven’s sake—the two forms might fall out. And sure enough—for just here the third shot was heard, and the two swung off over the edge. A cry rose from all throats. The two figures as they fell stretched out their arms and with a quick motion unfolded a great pair of wings. It was a young man and a young girl. The youth wore striped tricot which gave his body the aspect of a butterfly’s form and the two wings were shaped like a butterfly’s. The maiden was enveloped in a white flowing robe which came down below her feet; her face was framed in blond curls and her wings were white and long like those frequently depicted as adorning the shoulders of the guardian of Paradise, the Archangel Michael, or those of the angel of the Annunciation.
Butterfly and angel floated down in an oblique, gently gliding flight. The throng was now breathless and dumb. In the center of the lake was stationed a large float; it was supposed that the daring flyers would land on it, but before they reached it, they turned up from a height of five or six metres, and, mounting, flew horizontally, came back, then flew down, and mounted again, performing aerial evolutions, crossing above the fantastic aeroplanes, and then returned to the Zeppelin which once more received them.
A tumultuous uproar of applause rang through the air. An immense feeling of happiness and victory stirred all hearts. So now the air was actually made subservient to mankind. Without an engine, independent as a bird, one could rise from the ground, glide through the air, rise and sink away, be conscious of the motion; it was, indeed, an intoxicating gain!
The address given that evening in the theater auditorium of the Rose-Palace concerned the new acquisition. The inventor, a hitherto unknown young English engineer, gave an exposition of the mechanism of his artificial wings, and related how for some years in all secrecy, under Mr. Toker’s auspices, he had been carrying on his investigations, labors, and experiments until at last he had been able to make a gift of his accomplished work to his fellow-men.
After the inventor had concluded his address, Toker himself stepped forward and announced that no other addresses would be given that evening, but that the respected public might enjoy the consciousness that henceforth no one would any longer need to envy the birds.
The auditorium was now transformed into a social assembly-room where the liveliest conversation was carried on. The topic of applicable pinions truly gave sufficient material for all sorts of interesting variations. Some rejoiced, others bewailed, still others tried to perpetrate witticisms; all were full of astonishment; exclamations flew about in merry confusion.
“I shall be mighty grateful when market-women, instead of swallows and doves, shall be seen flying round in the air with their baskets.”
“In place of the light-horse regiment we shall now have regiments of light birds.”