"Who is it?" asked a voice, not Mitzi's, but that of a woman I did not know.
I gave my name. There was some whispering inside which I could indistinctly perceive through the door, and then a woman came out, opening the door so little that I could not even have a peep at the inside.
"Fräulein regrets," said the woman, as if I had been a mere stranger, "she cannot see you now."
One is above all the son of one's country. I daresay no Englishman would have acted otherwise than I did. I bowed to that dressing woman as if she had been a noble lady and went on to the stage.
There I found the manager of the theatre chatting with his Graz colleague. They both congratulated me, and the manager of the Graz theatre complained about the coldness of the public.
"You will find no such frosty people in the south, in Graz," he told me, "for if you are willing to let me have your opera at the same terms as the ones you have here, I will play it within two months. I should be pleased if I could secure Miss Dobanelli for the part of the Lady."
Yon may conceive how pleased I was and how warmly I thanked him for such encouragement. But the entre-acte being nearly over we had to leave the stage.
My way back to the audience led me past Mitzi's dressing room. Just as I was going by, the door opened and.... Franz von Heidenbrunn came out. I thought that my heart was going to stop. So Mitzi had received him, while her door had remained closed for me. I went on as in a dream.
Before the door of his box I found dad and the mater.
"What has happened?" asked my old Daniel Cooper & Co. "Why are you so pale?"