"I see that you have thought of something," said Cosima, when I returned to her.
"Yes, we will play a charade."
"A charade? Splendid! I do not know exactly what that is, but I am sure that it is something good."
"As to that, you must risk the pillage of your wardrobe."
"I risk it. They shall open the cupboards and the drawers for you. Take anything you like, except, perhaps, my India shawl, which I cherish very much.... But you must tell me exactly what you are going to do, so I can explain it all to Wagner; otherwise he would torture his mind in the effort to comprehend.... I am sure that he hasn't the slightest idea what a charade may be!"
The drawing-room was deserted, so it was possible for Richter, Servais and me to gather round the piano, and with the greatest secrecy to think out, to discuss and to arrange our foolishness.
The music would be a great help to us in representing characters, crowds, uproars and riots. Therefore Richter's rôle was very important, and as, once the charade had commenced, he would be separated from us, we agreed upon certain signals that we should all recognise.
The gallery, with its large opening into the drawing-room, was chosen for our stage: its heavy portières, drawn back or dropped, formed the curtain. All was arranged, the lamps disposed in the right places, the accessories gathered together. Our greatest difficulty was to induce the servants to let us have a kettle and a broom from the kitchen, two objects that were indispensable to our stage setting. The cook, throwing up her arms, cried that it was not at all suitable to take such things to the drawingroom, so we were obliged to take them by main force.