The countess had now directed her glass toward the platform. “Franka is not sitting up there this time ... but that Helmer! Who would have thought that I should have seen Eduard’s secretary in this way again! It is said that he is going to give an address. I am curious.”
“I am not,” muttered the cousin.
“You are an unendurable man, Coriolan,” remarked Albertine suavely.
“We need not be vexed, my worthy friends,” observed Baron Malhof at this moment, taking a part in the conversation, after having vainly looked round to find Franka. “One must never be vexed; certainly not while on a pleasure journey. One ought thankfully to get from it all the possible satisfaction that may be offered. Domestic cares, local prejudices, have been left far behind. One drinks in all the delight of the ‘now,’ of the unfamiliar, of the unusual. And especially here in this festal hall, where such a brilliant company is assembled, where it smells so fragrant,—I would wager that the ventilator distributes atomized rosewater,—where sweet music is playing, where beautiful women are to be seen, and where one can stare at two living rulers of great States, and where there is to be great oratory in various tongues of Babel about the ‘lofty flights of human thought.’... If this is not a place of amusement, what is it, I’d like to know? Do you see, in my opinion life is a storehouse, filled full of joyance and annoyance, and all wisdom consists in getting out of that storehouse all possible joy and avoiding everything that can possibly annoy....”
A stir went through the audience. The President of the French Republic and the King of Italy had entered their box. Mr. Toker had ushered them in, and he remained for a few moments standing in the back of the box in order, as could be plainly seen, to give his illustrious guests some information about his likewise illustrious house-guests; for his eyes, as well as those of the two rulers, moved, during the conversation, from one to another of the selected circle filling the background of the platform.
Now Mr. Toker went back to his place and gave the signal to begin.
For the introduction, a second performance was given of the Rose-Quintette which on the first day had afforded such enjoyment; again it exerted the same charm and aroused the whole audience to the utmost enthusiasm. The King from the land of music set the example, and the applause throughout the auditorium rose into a perfect storm. Vera’s eyes were filled with tears of delight. The Rose-Quintette was a genuine affront to that ultra-modern school of those who pose as scorners of melody; they did not, indeed, hiss, but they exchanged significant glances and bitterly ironical smiles.
After the applause had subsided, the great Italian tragédienne came forth and recited Hero’s lament over the body of Leander, a soul-stirring monologue from the first work of a Roman poet as yet comparatively unknown. It was a decidedly long while after she had finished, before the applause began: people were too deeply moved to express their gratification instantly. Genuine tears trembled on the eyelashes of the great artist, and in the audience many cheeks were wet. Who has never stood by the bier of one dearly beloved, and has not gazed down into an abyss of grief so profound that the heart is penetrated by the terror of eternity?
Now followed one of those ten-minute pauses during which the auditorium changed into a salon. Some of the guests left their places; calls were paid; there was promenading up and down the lobbies. The master of the house stepped into the box where sat the two exalted rulers in order to explain to them the meaning of the intermission; they in turn went out on the platform and allowed the various celebrities to be presented to them. The King greeted the actress as an old acquaintance, shook hands with her, and talked with her for some time. Then he greeted his other fellow-countryman, the great inventor, with equal heartiness. To be proud of one’s king and to feel for him a genuine affection, is a widespread sentiment in monarchical countries; but there is also very frequently in royal personages a feeling of pride and of gratitude for those who as artists or otherwise wear the crown of glory of their country, and this feeling might be called kings’ loyalty. For centuries monarchs have showed this loyalty in the form of gratitude to the heads of the great noble families, especially for the leaders of armed forces on land and sea; but of late they have begun to realize that the fame of a country is borne over wider reaches of space and time by the names of its intellectual great men than by the names of its aristocrats and soldiers.
The ringing of a bell announced the resumption of the exercises, and an expectant silence reigned throughout the hall. John Toker and Chlodwig Helmer stepped out to the speaker’s desk. The American began in English:—