--"Perron! He was worth the rest of the performance together, he
and the orchestra; but when he had sung it with the Lehmann last year,
ach--that was a different matter. He had gone through the part like a
Siegfried inspired, and she--ah divine! There was no Bruennhilde to
compare with her now. What a night it had been! Do you recall it?"
they said--"Do you remember it?" And then the opera-goers closed their
eyes ecstatically.

"The season before was better, far better!--Tschut!" And then they
went on drinking their beer and liqueurs, and fanning themselves
resignedly. "If the heat did not break before night-fall there would
be a thunder-storm." The clouds were gathering far in the West, and
the insects were humming. The air was heavy with the scent of
blossoms; and the waitresses ran to and fro, dressed in Tyrolese
costume; the prettier they were the more they ran.

"One beer!--Three liqueurs!" "Sogleich, meine Herren!" The garden was
shady, and the glasses clinked; the tongues wagged.

"You are not afraid; you are comfortable, child, swung up there in the
tree-tops?"

Kaya's eyes shone like two stars down from the green. "My heart
beats," she said, "but it is only stage fright; it will pass. Is the
House full?"

"Packed to the roof!"

"I am only a bird," said Kaya softly, "They won't think of me. It is
Siegfried they have come to hear, and Bruennhilde. How glorious to be a
Bruennhilde!"

The Kapellmeister took out his watch: "I must go," he said, "Good-bye,
little one; remember what I told you, and let your voice come out
without effort; not too loud, or too soft! When your part is over, one
of the stage-hands will let you down again."

Kaya nodded, swinging herself childishly. "It is sweet to be a bird,"
she said, "I think I shall stay here always, and Siegfried will never
find me."

"No--he shall never find you!" said the Kapellmeister suddenly and
sharply. Their eyes met for a moment. "Are you all right?" he
repeated, "You are pale."

Kaya shrank back into the leaves that were painted, and they trembled
slightly as if a breeze had passed; and the great drop-curtain blew
out, bulging.

"Keep the windows shut," called the voice of the stage manager,
"Quick--before the curtain goes up. A storm is coming, and the
draughts--oh Je!" He went hurrying past.

Ritter glanced at his watch again mechanically; then he crossed the
stage to the left, and hurried down a small, winding stair