The drawing-master's delicate tact instantly perceived Prince Emil's generous intention.
"Pardon me," he said, with a shade of bashfulness, "I did not know that I was in the presence of a gentleman of such high rank--"
"No, no, you were perfectly right," interrupted Prince Emil, who was pleased with the man's modest confidence, and immediately entered into conversation with him. He asked various questions, and Ludwig described how he was frequently compelled to get suitable figures for his tableau from the forests and the fields, because the better educated people all had parts assigned to them, and how difficult it was to work with this untrained material; especially as he had barely two or three minutes to arrange a tableau containing three hundred persons.
The countess gazed absently at the motley throngs surging toward the Passion Theatre. The fresh morning breeze blew into the carriage. All nature was full of gladness, a festal joy which even the countess' richly caparisoned horses seemed to share, for they pranced gaily and dashed swiftly on as if they would fain vie with the sun-god's steeds above. The Bavarian flags on the Passion Theatre fluttered merrily against the blue sky, and now another discharge of cannon announced the commencement of the performance. The carriage made its way with much difficulty through the multitude to the entrance, which was surrounded by natives of Ammergau. Ludwig Gross ordered the driver to stop, and sprang out. All respectfully made way for him, raising their hats: "Ah, Herr Gross! The drawing-master! Good-day!"
"Good-day," replied Ludwig Gross, then unceremoniously giving the countess his arm, requested the prince to follow and led them through several side passages, to which strangers were not admitted, into the space reserved for boxes, where two fine-looking young men, also members of the Gross family, the "ushers" were taking tickets. Ludwig lifted his hat and left them to go to his work. The prince shook hands with him and expressed his thanks. "A cultured man!" he said, after Ludwig had gone. Meanwhile one of the ushers had conducted the countess to her seat.
There directly before her lay the long-desired goal! A huge amphitheatre built in the Greek style. Between the boxes, which overlooked the whole, and the stage, under the open sky, extended a vast space, whose seats rose to the height of a house. The orchestra, too, was roofless, as also were the proscenium and the stage, at whose extreme right and left stood the houses of Pilate and Caiaphas, between which stretched the streets of Jerusalem. The chorus was stationed on the proscenium and here all the great scenes in which the populace took part were performed. The main stage, occupying the centre only, as in the Greek theatre, was a temple-like covered building with a curtain, in a certain sense a theatre within a theatre, where the scenes that required a smaller frame were set. Beyond, the whole was surrounded by the amphitheatre of the lofty mountains gazing down in majestic repose, surmounting and crowning all.
The orchestra was playing the last bars of the overture and the surging and hum of the thousands who were finding their seats had at last ceased. The chorus came forward, all the singers clad in the Greek costume, at their head as choragus Johannes Diemer, arrayed in diadem and toga. A majestic figure of true priestly dignity, he moved across the stage, fully imbued with the spirit of the sublime drama which it was his honorable office to open. Deep silence now reigned throughout the audience. It seemed as if nature herself was listening outside, the whispering morning breeze held its breath, and not a single bird-note was heard. The repose of the Sabbath spread its wings protectingly over the whole scene, that nothing should disturb this consecrated mood.
As the stately figures advanced wearing their costly robes with as much dignity as if they had never been clad in any other garments, or would be forced again to exchange them for the coarse torn blouse of toil; as they began to display the art acquired with such self-sacrificing devotion after a wearisome day of labor, and the choragus in the purest, noblest intonation began the first lines:
"Sink prostrate, overwhelmed with sacred awe,
Oh, human race, bowed by the curse of God!"
the countess' heart was suddenly stirred by a new emotion and tears filled her eyes.