I was so tired of stepping this way and that, that my first impulse was to refuse, but for fear that this might mean the sacrifice of my real American candy, I followed him meekly into the next room, where he solemnly scribbled something in a big black book. Then, with a flourish which shook the gold fringe of his uniform, he handed me a paper.
"That is all," he said.
"All?" I asked. Now that escape seemed so near I doubted its possibility.
"That is all," he repeated, with a low bow. I turned on my heel and never slackened my pace till I was at the door of the pension. By this ridiculous proceeding I had lost just two hours on my counterpoint. The candy, however, is wonderful! I never tasted anything more refreshing. Certainly, Germany is no place for candy—nor for doing things quickly, either.
On the fifteenth came the first production in Germany of the French opera Messidor before a crowded audience at the opera house. The libretto is by Zola and the music by Bruneau. The work is typical of its school, especially in the orchestration. As in some of Massenet's pieces, the trombones burst forth every few minutes, as if to say, "Don't fancy for a moment, kind public, that we have gone out for a glass of beer. We never miss but a few bars." The so-called symphonic Legende vom Golde, a symbolic pantomime, if I may so call it, which opens the third act, struck me as unutterably tawdry, but the last scene had a perfectly charming setting, and the climax was very effective. At the final curtain the composer was called out several times, but the opinion of the audience seemed to be divided, for although the applause was plentiful, continued hissing from the opponents of the French school was distinctly audible. Bruneau is tall and slight, with black pointed beard and waxed mustache. He responded in several constrained little bows, as though charmed with the applause, and as if utterly unconscious of any less complimentary sounds.
We are hearing much talk of balls and frivolity, for the carnival is just beginning. Already the Baron is planning to make up a large party for something, and of course I shall write you all about it. Louise and Edith are coming over to do ear-training to-night at eight, and it is already time for supper, so this must end my letter for to-day. All good wishes for you.
M.
Do you know the "Beethoven-Lied" by Cornelius? The greater part of it is composed of the principal theme of the first movement of the Eroica Symphony. We sang it in the chorus hour on Thursday. I should think it might be a splendid thing for your club to work at.