Finally the three blows were struck. Two footmen, stationed in the gallery, opened simultaneously the two sides of the door, and the little theatre was seen to move forward lightly, as if of its own accord, and to take its place before the door-way, which it entirely filled. Four musicians, whom Christian had stipulated for, played a brief quartette in the Italian style. The curtain rose, and the applause which was given to the scenery afforded the operators time to place their marionettes in position for appearing upon the stage.
Christian never began his performances without inspecting his audience through a little peep-hole, which he had contrived for the purpose. The first person he saw happened to be the very one he was looking for. Margaret was seated next Olga, in the front row. She was in a delicious toilet, and looked positively ravishing. Christian next noticed the baron, who was in the front row of the gentlemen’s seats, behind those of the ladies, and whose lofty stature made him at once conspicuous. He was even paler, if possible, than the evening before. Massarelli did not seem to be present, but Christian saw with pleasure Major Larrson, Lieutenant Erwin Osburn, and the other young officers who, on the previous evening, during the ball and after it, had shown him such cordial sympathy, and whose ruddy countenances, already lighted up with the expectation of pleasure, were full of kindly interest. At the same time, Christian could hear them praising the scene.
“Why, that is Stollborg!” said several voices.
“True,” said Baron Olaus, in his metallic voice, “I really believe that they have tried to represent old Stollborg.”
As for M. Goefle, he could neither hear nor see; he was for the moment horribly discomposed. To give him time to recover himself, Christian began with a scene between two actors, which he played alone. His voice adapted itself with singular ease to the different utterances of the beings he was representing; and not only did he vary his intonations, he made each character, at the same time, use just the language which was best suited to its part and position in the little comedy. From the very outset the audience were charmed with his natural and truthful style. M. Goefle, whose duty it was for the moment to represent an old man, very soon came in with his part. At first he did not succeed very well in disguising his voice, but the audience were so far from suspecting his presence, and were so thoroughly convinced that Christian did all the talking, that there was the greatest amazement at the infinite resources of the operator.
“Wouldn’t you be willing to swear,” said Larrson, “that there were a dozen persons in there?”
“There must be four, at least,” said the lieutenant.
“No,” replied the major, “there are only two, the master and his assistant. But the assistant is a mere brute, who very seldom speaks, and who has not opened his mouth, so far.”
“But hark! there are two persons speaking. I distinctly hear two different voices.”
“Pure delusion!” replied the enthusiastic Larrson; “it is Christian Waldo all alone. He can represent two or three or four persons all at the same time, and more too, perhaps; who knows? He is the very devil. But attend to the piece; it is wonderfully entertaining. One would like to commit his plays to memory, so as to write them out.”