A stout woman in a red blouse stepped timidly forward.
"Oh, you are, are you? Well, Madame, you haven't distinguished yourself so far; perhaps you will do better alone. Have you the score?"
"Yes, Herr Kapellmeister."
"Begin then."
The soprano took a long breath and her cheeks grew red like her blouse. She watched the eyes of the leader, and there was a light in them that she mistrusted, a reddish glimmer that boded evil to any who crossed him.
She began tremulously.
"Stop."
She started again.
"Your voice quavers like a jews'-harp. What's the matter with you?"
"I don't know, Herr Kapellmeister, it was all right when I tried it this morning."