ou; my
heart was sore, seeing you suffer. The words came out like a lash;
they cut you. I saw how they hurt you. Little one--if I bare the
wound to the air again, forgive me--forgive me! No--don't shrink away.
If you love him like that, my God--I know him! He comes to my house!
Only a few weeks ago he was there, and he's coming again; soon, I tell
you, soon. I swear I will bring him to you! If he won't come, I will
force him; with my hands I will drag him if he refuses."

The girl gave a cry: "Drag him!" she cried, "Force him! Ah, he'd fly
at a word--he'd fly to me!" She caught her breath: "Bozhe moi!" she
said suddenly, and laughed: "What are you talking about, dear Master?
Velasco--he's nothing to me! A musician, you said--a violinist! You
forget I am Bruennhilde to-night. We talked of a curse--not love.
Siegfried is still behind the flames and cannot get past."

She laughed again, a sound like a trill: "You forget, don't you?" she
said, "I was acting a part! It wasn't real; I was only
playing--pretending. How the Schultz cheated you! Ah, dear
Master--you thought she had lost her wits and her size all at once.
You never noticed how she had shrunken; and that was because I stood on
tip-toe, and held myself straight with the helmet. If the light hadn't
fallen full on my face, you would never have guessed! I laughed to
myself; how I laughed! I--laughed!"

"Child," said the Kapellmeister suddenly. "You are sobbing!"

"I am not--I am laughing, dear Master. Look at me! There is the mill
across the promenade. How gaunt the wheel looks, and strange, with its
spokes dripping, and the rain lashing down! And there is a light in my
window--a candle, see? Old Marta is waiting, and how she will scold.
Tell me, Master--dear Master, before we get there, tell me--some day
may I act Bruennhilde and sing, when the curtain is up, and the House is
full, and Siegfried is there, and you at the baton--and the orchestra
playing? Tell me!"

She drew closer to him, and the last words came out in a whisper,
breathless and eager. "Put those other thoughts out of your mind, dear
Kapellmeister. Ve--Velasco is only a name--nothing more!

"If I can sing I will be happy; I promise you. The sting of the curse
will--pass. You are silent and cold!" she cried, "You won't tell me,
and we are almost there--at the mill! Master!"

The Kapellmeister started: "The mill?" he stammered, "What were you
saying, Kaya? How cold