The Woman-Hater | Page 8

makes me tremble," said Ina.
"Of course it does; and those who tremble succeed. In a long
experience I never knew an instance to the contrary. It is the conceited
fools, who feel safe, that are in danger."
"What is the part?"
"One you know--Siebel in 'Faust,' with two new songs."
"Excuse me, I do not know it."
"Why, everybody knows it."
"You mean everybody has heard it sung. I know neither the music nor
the words, and I cannot sing incorrectly even for you."
"Oh, you can master the airs in a day, and the cackle in half an hour."

"I am not so expeditious. If you are serious, get me the book--oh! he
calls the poet's words the cackle--and the music of the part directly, and
borrow me the score."
"Borrow you the score! Ah! that shows the school you were bred in. I
gaze at you with admiration."
"Then please don't, for we have not a moment to waste. You have
terrified me out of my senses. Fly!"
"Yes; but before I fly, there is something to be settled--salary!"
"As much as they will give."
"Of course; but give me a hint."
"No, no; you will get me some money, for I am poor. I gave all my
savings to my dear mother, and settled her on a farm in dear old
Denmark. But I really sing for you more than for Homburg, so make no
difficulties. Above all, do not discuss salary with me. Settle it and draw
it for me, and let me hear no more about that. I am on thorns."

He soon found the director, and told him, excitedly, there was a way
out of his present difficulty. Ina Klosking was in the town. He had
implored her to return to the opera. She had refused at first; but he had
used all his influence with her, and at last had obtained a half promise
on conditions--a two months' engagement; certain parts, which he
specified out of his own head; salary, a hundred thalers per night, and a
half clear benefit on her last appearance.
The director demurred to the salary.
Ashmead said he was mad: she was the German Alboni; her low notes
like a trumpet, and the compass of a mezzo-soprano besides.
The director yielded, and drew up the engagement in duplicate.
Ashmead then borrowed the music and came back to the inn

triumphant. He waved the agreement over his head, then submitted it to
her. She glanced at it, made a wry face, and said, "Two months! I never
dreamed of such a thing."
"Not worth your while to do it for less," said Ashmead. "Come," said
he, authoritatively, "you have got a good bargain every way; so sign."
She lifted her head high, and looked at him like a lioness, at being
ordered.
Ashmead replied by putting the paper before her and giving her the
pen.
She cast one more reproachful glance, then signed like a lamb.
"Now," said she, turning fretful, "I want a piano."
"You shall have one," said he coaxingly. He went to the landlord and
inquired if there was a piano in the house.
"Yes, there is one," said he.
"And it is mine," said a sharp female voice.
"May I beg the use of it?"
"No," said the lady, a tall, bony spinster. "I cannot have it strummed on
and put out of tune by everybody."
"But this is not everybody. The lady I want it for is a professional
musician. Top of the tree."
"The hardest strummers going."
"But, mademoiselle, this lady is going to sing at the opera. She must
study. She must have a piano.
"But [grimly] she need not have mine.

"Then she must leave the hotel."
"Oh [haughtily], that is as she pleases."
Ashmead went to Ina Klosking in a rage and told her all this, and said
he would take her to another hotel kept by a Frenchman: these Germans
were bears. But Ina Klosking just shrugged her shoulders, and said,
"Take me to her."
He did so; and she said, in German, "Madam, I can quite understand
your reluctance to have your piano strummed. But as your hotel is quiet
and respectable, and I am unwilling to leave it, will you permit me to
play to you? and then you shall decide whether I am worthy to stay or
not."
The spinster drank those mellow accents, colored a little, looked keenly
at the speaker, and, after a moment's reflection, said, half sullenly, "No,
madam, you are polite. I must risk my poor piano. Be pleased to come
with me."
She then conducted them to a large, unoccupied room on the first-floor,
and unlocked the piano, a very fine one, and in perfect tune.
Ina sat down, and performed a