Daniel looked at her; she blushed, and looked at Herr Carovius questioningly. “Don’t you know our Daniel Nothafft, you little ignoramus?” said Herr Carovius. “You know nothing of our coryphæus? Hail to the Master! Welcome home! He is here, covered with fame!”
At any other time Herr Carovius’s biliary sarcasm would have aroused Daniel’s whole stock-in-trade of aversion and indignation. To-day he was unimpressed by it. “How young she is,” he thought, as he feasted his eyes on the embarrassed, laughing Dorothea, “how gloriously young!”
Dorothea was angry because she did not have on the red dress she had had made in Munich.
“Dorothea!” called a strong voice from the first floor.
“Oh, there’s father!” whispered Dorothea. She was frightened. She ran up the steps on her tiptoes, dragging her long veil after her. The maid followed her.
“A devil, a regular little devil, Maestro,” said Herr Carovius turning to Daniel. “You must come in some time and hear how she can draw the bow. She’s a regular little devil, I say.”
Daniel bade Herr Carovius adieu, and went walking down the street with bowed head.
XII
In the province, Dorothea Döderlein, fresh from the Bavarian capital, was a phenomenon that attracted general attention. Her conduct seemed, to be sure, a bit liberal, but then she was an artist, and her name appeared in the newspapers every now and then, so it was only natural to make allowances for her. When she gave her first concert, Adler Hall was almost completely sold out.