ain. "SCHON," he muttered as he
finished the accompaniment softly. He dropped his hands on his knees and
looked up at Thea. "That is very fine, eh? There is no such beautiful
melody in the world. You can take the book for one week and learn
something, to pass the time. It is good to know--always. EURIDICE,
EU--RI--DI--CE, WEH DASS ICH AUF ERDEN BIN!" he sang softly, playing the
melody with his right hand.

Thea, who was turning over the pages of the third act, stopped and
scowled at a passage. The old German's blurred eyes watched her
curiously.

"For what do you look so, IMMER?" puckering up his own face. "You see
something a little difficult, may-be, and you make such a face like it
was an enemy."

Thea laughed, disconcerted. "Well, difficult things are enemies, aren't
they? When you have to get them?"

Wunsch lowered his head and threw it up as if he were butting something.
"Not at all! By no means." He took the book from her and looked at it.
"Yes, that is not so easy, there. This is an old book. They do not print
it so now any more, I think. They leave it out, may-be. Only one woman
could sing that good."

Thea looked at him in perplexity.

Wunsch went on. "It is written for alto, you see. A woman sings the
part, and there was only one to sing that good in there. You understand?
Only one!" He glanced at her quickly and lifted his red forefinger
upright before her eyes.

Thea looked at the finger as if she were hypnotized. "Only one?" she
asked breathlessly; her hands, hanging at her sides, were opening and
shutting rapidly.

Wunsch nodded and still held up that compelling finger. When he dropped
his hands, there was a look of satisfaction in his face.

"Was she very great?"

Wunsch nodded.

"Was she beautiful?"

"ABER GAR NICHT! Not at all. She was ugly; big mouth, big teeth, no
figure, nothing at all," indicating a luxuriant bosom by sweeping his
hands over his chest. "A pole, a post! But for the voice--ACH! She have
something in there, behind the eyes," tapping his temples.

Thea followed all his gesticulations intently. "Was she German?"

"No, SPANISCH." He looked down and frowned for a moment. "ACH, I tell
you, she look like the Frau Tellamantez, some-thing. Long face, long
chin, and ugly al-so."

"Did she die a long while ago?"

"Die? I think not. I never hear, anyhow. I guess she is alive somewhere
in the world; Paris, may-be. But old, of course. I hear her when I was a
youth. She is to