BEFORE leaving Frankfort I hurried to Cook’s office to look after my mail. I found awaiting me a special delivery letter from a friend of Barfleur’s, a certain famous pianist, Madame A., whom I had met in London. She had told me then that she was giving a recital1 at Munich and Leipzig and that she was coming to Frankfort about this very time. She was scheduled to play on Wednesday, and this was Monday. She was anxious to see me. There was a long account of the town outside Berlin where she resided, her house, its management by a capable housekeeper2, etc. Would I go there? I could have her room. If I did, would I wait until she could come back at the latter end of the month? It was a most hospitable3 letter, and, coming from such a busy woman, a most flattering one and evidently instigated4 by Barfleur. I debated whether to accept this charming invitation as I strolled about Frankfort.
At one corner of the shopping district I came upon a music store in the window of which were displayed a number of photographs of musical celebrities5. A little to my surprise I noticed that the central place was occupied by a large photograph of Madame A. in her most attractive pose. A near-by bill-board contained full announcement of her coming. I meditated6 somewhat more mellowly7 after this and finally returned to Cook’s to leave a telegram. I would wait, I said, here at Frankfort until Wednesday.
In due time Madame A. arrived and her recital, as455 such things go, was a brilliant success. So far as I could judge, she had an enthusiastic following in Frankfort, quite as significant, for instance, as a woman like Carreno would have in America. An institution known as the Saalbau, containing a large auditorium8, was crowded, and there were flowers in plenty for Madame A. who opened and closed the program. The latter arrangement resulted in an ovation9 to her, men and women crowding about her feet below the platform and suggesting one composition and another that she might play—selections, obviously, that they had heard her render before.
She looked forceful, really brilliant, and tender in a lavender silk gown and wearing a spray of an enormous bouquet10 of lilacs that I had sent her.
This business of dancing attendance upon a national musical favorite was a bit strange for me, although once before in my life it fell to my lot, and tempestuous11 business it was, too. The artistic12 temperament13! My hair rises! Madame A. I knew, after I saw her, was expecting me to do the unexpected—to give edge as it were to her presence in Frankfort. And so strolling out before dinner I sought a florist14’s, and espying15 a whole jardinière full of lilacs, I said to the woman florist, “How much for all those lilacs?”
“You mean all?” she asked.
“All,” I said.
“Thirty marks,” she replied.
“Isn’t that rather high?” I said, assuming that it was wise to bargain a little anywhere.
“But this is very early spring,” she said. “These are the very first we’ve had.”
“Very good,” I said, “but if I should take them all would you put a nice ribbon on them?”
“O-o-oh!” she hesitated, almost pouting16, “ribbon is456 very dear, my good sir. Still—if you wish—it will make a wonderful bouquet.”
“Here is my card,” I said, “put that in it.” And then I gave her the address and the hour. I wrote some little nonsense on the card, about tender melodies and spring-time, and then I went back to the hotel to attend Madame.
A more bustling17, aggressive little artist you would not want to find. When I called at eight-thirty—the recital was at nine—I found several musical satellites dancing attendance upon her. There was one beautiful little girl from Mayence I noticed, of the Jewish type, who followed Madame A. with positively18 adoring glances. There was another woman of thirty who was also caught in the toils19 of this woman’s personality and swept along by her quite as one planet dislocates the orbit of another and makes it into a satellite. She had come all the way from Berlin. “Oh, Madame A.,” she confided20 to me upon introduction, “oh, wonderful! wonderful! Such playing! It is the most wonderful thing in the world to me.”
This woman had an attractive face, sallow and hollow, with burning black eyes and rich black hair. Her body was long and thin, supple21 and graceful22. She followed Madame A. too, with those strange, questioning eyes. Life is surely pathetic. It was interesting, though, to be in this atmosphere of intense artistic enthusiasm.
When the last touch had been added to Madame’s coiffure, a sprig of blossom of some kind inserted in her corsage, a flowing opera cloak thrown about the shoulders, she was finally ready. So busy was she, suggesting this and that to one and another of her attendants, that she scarcely saw me. “Oh, there you are,” she beamed finally. “Now, I am quite ready. Is the machine here,457 Marie? Oh, very good. And Herr Steiger! O-o-oh!” This last to a well-known violinist who had arrived.
It turned out that there were two machines—one for the satellites and Herr Steiger who was also to play this evening, and one for Madame A., her maid and myself. We finally debouched from the hall and elevator and fussy23 lobby, where German officers were strolling to and fro, into the machines and were away. Madame A. was lost in a haze24 of artistic contemplation with thoughts, no doubt, as to her program and her success. “Now maybe you will like my program better,” she suggested after a while. “In London it was not so goot. I haf to feel my audience iss—how do you say?—vith me. In Berlin and here and Dresden and Leipzig they like me. In England they do not know me.” She sighed and looked out of the window. “Are you happy to be with me?” she asked naïvely.
“Quite,” I replied.
When we reached the auditorium we were ushered25 by winding26 passages into a very large green-room, a salon27, as it were, where the various artists awaited their call to appear. It was already occupied by a half-dozen persons, or more, the friends of Madame A., the local manager, his hair brushed aloft like a cockatoo, several musicians, the violinist Herr Steiger, Godowsky the pianist, and one or two others. They all greeted Madame A. effusively28.
There was some conversation in French here and there, and now and then in English. The room was fairly babbling29 with temperament. It is always amusing to hear a group of artists talk. They are so fickle30, make-believe, innocently treacherous31, jealous, vainglorious32, flattering. “Oh, yes—how splendid he was. That aria33 in C Major—perfect! But you know I did not care so much for his rendering34 of the Pastoral Symphony—very458 weak in the allegro35 ma non troppo—very. He should not attempt that. It is not in his vein—not the thing he does best”—fingers lifted very suggestively and warningly in the air.
Some artist and his wife did not agree (very surprising); the gentleman was the weaker instrument in this case.
“Oh!”—it was Madame A. talking, “now that is too-oo ridiculous. She must go places and he must go along as manager! Herr Spink wrote me from Hamburg that he would not have him around. She has told him that he affects her playing. Still he goes! It is too-oo much. They will not live together long.”
“Where is Herr Schochman?” (This being incident number three.) “Isn’t he leading to-night? But they promised me! No, I will not play then! It is always the way. I know him well! I know why he does it! It is to annoy me. He doesn’t like me and he disappoints me.”
Great business of soothing36 the principal performer of the evening—the manager explaining volubly, friends offering soothing comment. More talk about other artists, their wives, flirtations, successes, failures.
In the midst of this, by some miscalculation (they were to have been delivered over the footlights after the end of Madame A.’s first number) in came my flowers. They looked like a fair-sized bush being introduced.
“Oh!” exclaimed Madame A. when the card was examined and they were offered to her, “how heavenly. Good heavens! it is a whole tree. Oh—wonderful, wonderful! And these be-yutiful words! O-o-oh!”
More coquettish glances and tender sighs. I could have choked with amusement. It was all such delicious by-play—quite the thing that artists expect and must have. She threw away the sprig of jasmine she wore459 and drawing out a few sprigs of the lilac wore those instead. “Now I can play,” she exclaimed.
Deep breathings, sighs, ecstatic expressions.
Her turn came and, as I expected after hearing her in London, I heard delicious music. She had her following. They applauded her to the echo. Her two female satellites sat with me, and little Miss Meyer of Mayence—as I will call her—fairly groaned37 with happiness at times. Truly Madame A. was good to look upon, quite queenly, very assured. At the end of it all a fifteen- or twenty-minute ovation. It was beautiful, truly.
While we were in the green-room talking between sections of the program and intermediate soloists38, I said to her, “You are coming with me to supper, of course.”
“Of course! What else did you expect?”
“Are there any other restaurants besides those of the Frankforter Hof?”
“I think not.”
“How will you get rid of your friends after the performance?”
“Oh, I shall send them away. You take a table anywhere you like and I will come. Make it twelve o’clock.”
We were bundled back to the hotel, flowers, wraps, maid, satellites, and I went to see about the supper. In fifteen minutes it was ready; and in twenty minutes more Madame A. came, quite rosy39, all awake temperamentally, inquisitive40, defensive41, coquettish, eager. We are all greedy animals at best—the finer the greedier. The whole world is looking to see what life will give it to eat—from ideas, emotions, enthusiasms down to grass and potatoes. We are organized appetites, magnificent, dramatic, pathetic at times, but appetites just the same. The greater the appetite the more magnificent the spectacle.460 Satiety42 is deadly discouraging. The human stomach is the grand central organ—life in all its amazing, subtle, heavenly, pathetic ramifications43 has been built up around that. The most pathetic thing in life is a hungry man; the most stirringly disturbing thing, a triumphant44, greedy one. Madame A. sat down to our cold chicken, salad, champagne45, and coffee with beaming birdlike eyes.
“Oh, it is so good to see you again!” she declared; but her eyes were on the chicken. “I was so afraid when I wrote you from Munich that you would not get my letter. I can’t tell you how you appeal to me; we have only met twice, yet you see we are quite old friends already!”
Just as her none too subtle flattery was beginning to work, she remarked casually46, “Do you know Mr. Barfleur well?”
“Oh, fairly well. Yes, I know a little something about him.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“I am very fond of him,” I answered, my vanity deflating rapidly.
“He is so fond of you,” she assured me. “Oh, he admires you so much. What you think must have considerable weight with him, eh? Where did you first meet him?” she asked.
“In New York.”
“Now, between us: he is one of the few men in the world I deeply care for—but I don’t think he cares for me.”
“Good Lord!” I said to myself wearily, “why is it that all the charming ladies I meet either are or have been in love with Barfleur. It’s getting monotonous47!” But I had to smile.
“You will visit me in Berlin?” she was saying. “I461 will be back by the twenty-sixth. Can’t you wait that long? Berlin is so interesting. When I come, we shall have such nice talks!”
“Yes—about Barfleur!” I thought to myself. Aloud I said vaguely48, “It is charming of you; I will stop over to see you, if I possibly can.” Then I said good night and left.
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1
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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instigated
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| v.使（某事物）开始或发生，鼓动( instigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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6
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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mellowly
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| 柔软且甜地，成熟地 | |
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auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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espying
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| v.看到( espy的现在分词 ) | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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21
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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29
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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vainglorious
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| adj.自负的；夸大的 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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allegro
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| adj. 快速而活泼的；n.快板；adv.活泼地 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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soloists
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| n.独唱者，独奏者，单飞者( soloist的名词复数 ) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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40
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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41
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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43
ramifications
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| n.结果，后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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44
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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45
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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46
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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47
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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