"Have you your cloak?"
"Yes."
"An umbrella?"
"No."
"It is raining. Don't you hear it, and the thunder in the distance? The storm has broken. Come, we will take a cab." He strode across the stage and down the staircase; she following. He nodded to the watchman:
"Still rehearsing," he said shortly, "Sorry to keep you up. Whistle, will you, for a Droschke? Gott! The rain is terrific; hear it! Come."
There was the sound of wheels, of horses' hoofs.
He went forward and opened the door of the Droschke, and Kaya crept in.
She was no longer the Brünnhilde; she was a little figure, slight and pale, and wrapped in a cloak; and she sat in the corner against the cushions, staring out at the rain, quivering at the thunder crashes.
Ritter stepped in behind her and closed the door. "Nonnen-Mühle!" he cried, "and drive fast. We are chilled to the bone! The storm grows worse; it is devilish late!" He flung himself back in the opposite corner, and the Droschke rolled on.