The day was very warm and sultry, and the visitors, who flocked to Ehrestadt for the opera season, fanned themselves resignedly as they sat in the shaded gardens, drinking beer and liqueurs, and gossiping about the singers. The performance of 'Siegfried' was to be given that night for the second time, and they discussed it together.
"The tenor—ah, what a voice he had, and what acting, but Brünnhilde—bah!" They shook their heads. "The Schultz was growing old, and her voice was thin in the upper register; it struck against the roof of her mouth when she forced it, and sounded like tin. In the love-scene, when Brünnhilde wakes from her sleep—Tschut! What a pity a singer should ever grow old; and a still greater pity—a Jammerschade that she should go on singing!"
"The Conductor was in despair, and so were the Directors; but the contract was signed, it was too late. Ach bewahre, poor Ritter! He was in such a pique," they said, "der Arme! The bird—that was poor too, shrill and cheap! Die Neumann, who was she? Someone out of the chorus perhaps. But the Mime was splendid."
And then they went back to the great Siegfried again and praised him—"Perron! He was worth the rest of the performance together, he and the orchestra; but when he had sung it with the Lehmann last year, ach—that was a different matter. He had gone through the part like a Siegfried inspired, and she—ah divine! There was no Brünnhilde to compare with her now. What a night it had been! Do you recall it?" they said—"Do you remember it?" And then the opera-goers closed their eyes ecstatically.
"The season before was better, far better!—Tschut!" And then they went on drinking their beer and liqueurs, and fanning themselves resignedly. "If the heat did not break before night-fall there would be a thunder-storm." The clouds were gathering far in the West, and the insects were humming. The air was heavy with the scent of blossoms; and the waitresses ran to and fro, dressed in Tyrolese costume; the prettier they were the more they ran.
"One beer!—Three liqueurs!" "Sogleich, meine Herren!" The garden was shady, and the glasses clinked; the tongues wagged.
"You are not afraid; you are comfortable, child, swung up there in the tree-tops?"
Kaya's eyes shone like two stars down from the green. "My heart beats," she said, "but it is only stage fright; it will pass. Is the House full?"
"Packed to the roof!"
"I am only a bird," said Kaya softly, "They won't think of me. It is Siegfried they have come to hear, and Brünnhilde. How glorious to be a Brünnhilde!"