When Schiller returned with the chair, the manuscript lay on the table, and Charlotte sat before him in perfect composure.
Schiller began to read the first act of “Don Carlos” to his “friend,” in an elevated voice, with pathos and with fiery emotion, and entirely carried away by the power of his own composition!
But his friend and auditor did not seem to participate in this rapture! Her large black eyes regarded the reader intently. At first her looks expressed lively sympathy, but by degrees this expression faded away; she became restless, and at times, when Schiller declaimed in an entirely too loud and grandiloquent manner, a stealthy smile played about her lips. Schiller had finished reading, and laid his manuscript on the table; he now turned to his friend, his eyes radiant with enthusiasm. “And now, my dear, my only friend, give me your opinion, honestly and sincerely! What do you think of my work?”
“Honestly and sincerely?” she inquired, her lips twitching with the same smile.
“Yes, my friend, I beg you to do so.”
“Well, then, my dear friend,” she exclaimed, with a loud and continuous peal of laughter; “well, then, my dear Schiller, I must tell you, honestly and sincerely, that ‘Don Carlos’ is the very worst you have ever written!”
Schiller sprang up from his chair, horror depicted in his countenance. “Your sincere opinion?”
“Yes, my sincere opinion!” said Charlotte von Kalb, still laughing.
“No,” cried Schiller, angrily, “this is too bad!”
Schiller seized his hat, and, without taking the slightest notice of Charlotte, left the room, slamming the door behind him.[8]