"Has the Fräulein gone home?"
"No," said Marta, yawning, "She is in one of the dressing-rooms. I begged her to come, but she wouldn't."
The Kapellmeister laid his hand on her shoulder carelessly: "If you are sleepy," he said, "go back to the mill; I will bring her myself presently. The House is dark now, and the people are going." He gave a curt nod, dismissing the old woman, and strode on through the wings.
One person after another stopped him: "Ha, Kapellmeister, where did that nightingale hail from?"
"I snared it for you, Siegfried; were you satisfied?"
"Ach, mein Gott! I thought I was back on the Riviera, and it was moon-light.— Snare me another Brünnhilde, can't you?" The great tenor laughed and put his finger to his lips: "Singing with the Lehmann spoils one," he said, "Bah—! It was frightful to-night! She grows always worse. Would the bird were a goddess instead." He waved his hand: "Good-night!"
"Good-night," said the Kapellmeister, hurrying on.
"Ritter—hey! Stop a moment! What has come over the Neumann?"
"Nothing, Jacobs—nothing! She is dead."
Mime straightened his back that was stiff from much crouching: "Ausgeworfen?"