"You are jesting," said the poetess, tapping him gently on the arm with the book which she was holding in her hand; "why should I have any privilege?"
"But, surely, there can be but one opinion about this that the most poetical character in the piece ought to be represented by the most poetical character in the company; and again, there can be but one opinion as to who that is."
"And who--ha! I will try to overcome my childish bashfulness--who could that be?" asked Primula, with melting voice, raising her eyes in sweet anticipation to Oswald.
"Permit me to take the copy you are holding in your hand, a moment. Thanks! I see there is a mark. Let us see where it is. 'Act Third.--Scene First.--Countess Terzky: Thekla, Fräulein von Neubrunn.' Thekla under-scored. I thank you, Thekla!"
"That is an accident," cried the blushing poetess, pressing the book, which Oswald handed back to her with an ironical bow, to her bosom. "I swear it to you by the nine Muses, it is an accident."
"And I swear by father Apollo himself, and by all the other Olympians besides, that I believe in no accident, at least only in the most fortunate accident which has led me to-night once more into the company of--may I venture to say so--of a friend."
"If you may say so!" cried the poetess, tenderly pressing Oswald's arm with her own; "if you may say so! Oh believe me, Mr. Stein, I have been your friend ever since you put your foot on our humble threshold; I have always taken your part when prosaic minds, without reverence for the Great and the Beautiful----"
Primula was forced to arrest the overflowing waters of her tenderness, which Oswald had called forth so suddenly by his coarse flattery; for at that moment they had reached the adjoining room, where a part of the company were already seated around the long table, which was covered with a white cloth, and lighted up with two lamps and two candles. At the upper end stood Mrs. Rector Clemens, the founder and manager of the "Dramatic Club," looking at her company like a herd at his flock, and appointing to the still homeless guests their seats, gesticulating fiercely with her arms, and letting her deep voice out more fully than seemed absolutely necessary.
"Sit down by Fredegunda, Doctor Broadfoot. Will you take a seat by my daughter Thusnelda, Doctor Stein? Mrs. Jager, you will please take a seat by Professor Snellius. Professor Jager, you by Mrs. Kubel. Well, now we are all seated."
Mrs. Manager seized a bell, which stood before her on the table, and began to ring it for half a minute with all the energy of a president of a parliament who wishes to drown the mad voices of a few hundred furious representatives of the people. As the absolute silence reigning in the whole assembly furnished no pretext for this display of energetic efforts, Mrs. Manager at last put the bell down on the table, and seized instead a sheet of paper, on which, as on a theatre bill, the parts in the piece and the names of the company were arranged in double columns.