“I must try her voice again, as I remarked. Last night I was struck with her sense of the dramatic point of what we were singing—a quality which I do not too often find in my pupils. I think, mein Fräulein, that with care and study you might take a place on the stage.”
“The stage!” I repeated, startled, and thinking of Courvoisier’s words.
But von Francius had been reckoning without his host. When Miss Hallam spoke of “putting the matter into his hands,” she understood the words in her own sense.
“The stage!” said she, with a slight shiver. “That is quite out of the question. Miss Wedderburn is a young lady—not an actress.”
“So! Then it is impossible to be both in your country?” said he, with polite sarcasm. “I spoke as simple Künstler—artist—I was not thinking of anything else. I do not think the gnädiges Fräulein will ever make a good singer of mere songs. She requires emotion to bring out her best powers—a little passion—a little scope for acting and abandon before she can attain the full extent of her talent.”
He spoke in the most perfectly matter-of-fact way, and I trembled. I feared lest this display of what Miss Hallam would consider little short of indecent laxity and Bohemianism, would shock her so much that I should lose everything by it. It was not so, however.
“Passion—abandon! I think you can not understand what you are talking about!” said she. “My dear sir, you must understand that those kind of things may be all very well for one set of people, but not for that class to which Miss Wedderburn belongs. Her father is a clergyman”—von Fraucius bowed, as if he did not quite see what that had to do with it—“in short, that idea is impossible. I tell you plainly. She may learn as much as she likes, but she will never be allowed to go upon the stage.”
“Then she may teach?” said he, inquiringly.
“Certainly. I believe that is what she wishes to do, in case—if necessary.”
“She may teach, but she may not act,” said he, reflectively. “So be it, then! Only,” he added as if making a last effort, “I would just mention that, apart from artistic considerations, while a lady may wear herself out as a poorly paid teacher, a prima donna—”