What is it, Kaya?"

"I forgot," she said, "I forgot--! Take my cloak; take my hat! I
cannot sing. I forgot!"

Ritter stared at her: "What do you mean, child; what are you talking
about? Is it fright? Tschut! It will pass." He took the cloak again
and laid it about her shoulders: "Come now, the orchestra will be
growing impatient. It is ten o'clock past."

"I cannot," said Kaya, and her lip trembled: "Telegraph to Dresden,
dear Master--quickly!"

"Potztausend--and why?"

She backed slowly away from him and the cloak fell to the ground.

"Kaya, you shake as if you had a chill!"

"Can Bruennhilde sit aloft in the flies?" she said, "She is there in
front of the footlights and everyone sees her. Oh--I forgot!"

"Donnerwetter! Of course she is seen! Is it the sight of the audience
that will frighten you?"

"No," she said, "not the audience."

Ritter made an impatient movement forward: "What then? Sacrement! You
were full of joy not a moment ago; there was no fear in your eyes, and
now--it is as if someone had struck you!" He followed her to the
corner where she had retreated step by step; and when she could go no
further, he laid his hands on her shoulders.

"Look at me," he said, "straight in the eyes, Kaya, straight in the
eyes. You must."

"I--cannot!"

"I tell you you must."

He bent over her, and she felt his hands bearing heavily on her
shoulders; his eyes were flashing, insistent, determined: "You must."

"I cannot."

"Come."

She shook her head.

"Kaya--! You have been like my child! I--I love you as my own
daughter! Your career, your success is dear to me. I have ventured
more than you know on this chance--that you might have it. The town is
crowded with strangers. The House will be full. They will hear you
and your fame may be made in a night! What is the matter with you,
little one?"

"I cannot," said Kaya.

His grasp grew heavier. "If you throw away this chance--listen to
me--it may be years before you have another. You are young, and
managers are hard to approach; you found that yourself. It is the
merest accident of fate that the Schultz should be ill just now, while
no other soprano is on hand, and you know the part. You sang it for
me, Kaya, that night, and your voice was Bruennhilde's own. Would you
be a coward now? Come, and let me cover you with the shield and the
helmet; when you feel the spear in your hand the fright will leave you.
It is not like