Part Third

The `Residenz-Theater' sparked and hummed
With lights and people.  Gebnitz was to sing,
That rare soprano.  All the fiddles strummed
With tuning up; the wood-winds made a ring
Of reedy bubbling noises, and the sting
Of sharp, red brass pierced every ear-drum; patting
From muffled tympani made a dark slatting
Across the silver shimmering of flutes;
A bassoon grunted, and an oboe wailed;
The 'celli pizzicato-ed like great lutes,
And mutterings of double basses trailed
Away to silence, while loud harp-strings hailed
Their thin, bright colours down in such a scatter
They lost themselves amid the general clatter.
Frau Altgelt in the gallery, alone,
Felt lifted up into another world.
Before her eyes a thousand candles shone
In the great chandeliers.  A maze of curled
And powdered periwigs past her eyes swirled.
She smelt the smoke of candles guttering,
And caught the glint of jewelled fans fluttering
All round her in the boxes.  Red and gold,
The house, like rubies set in filigree,
Filliped the candlelight about, and bold
Young sparks with eye-glasses, unblushingly
Ogled fair beauties in the balcony.
An officer went by, his steel spurs jangling.
Behind Charlotta an old man was wrangling
About a play-bill he had bought and lost.
Three drunken soldiers had to be ejected.
Frau Altgelt's eyes stared at the vacant post
Of Concert-Meister, she at once detected
The stir which brought him.  But she felt neglected
When with no glance about him or her way,
He lifted up his violin to play.
   The curtain went up?  Perhaps.  If so,
   Charlotta never saw it go.
   The famous Fraeulein Gebnitz' singing
   Only came to her like the ringing
   Of bells at a festa
   Which swing in the air
   And nobody realizes they are there.
   They jingle and jangle,
   And clang, and bang,
   And never a soul could tell whether they rang,
   For the plopping of guns and rockets
   And the chinking of silver to spend, in one's pockets,
   And the shuffling and clapping of feet,
   And the loud flapping
   Of flags, with the drums,
   As the military comes.
   It's a famous tune to walk to,
   And I wonder where they're off to.
   Step-step-stepping to the beating of the drums.
   But the rhythm changes as though a mist
   Were curling and twisting
   Over the landscape.
   For a moment a rhythmless, tuneless fog
   Encompasses her.  Then her senses jog
   To the breath of a stately minuet.
   Herr Altgelt's violin is set
   In tune to the slow, sweeping bows, and retreats and advances,
   To curtsies brushing the waxen floor as the Court dances.
   Long and peaceful like warm Summer nights
   When stars shine in the quiet river.  And against the lights
   Blundering insects knock,
   And the `Rathaus' clock
   Booms twice, through the shrill sounds
   Of flutes and horns in the lamplit grounds.
   Pressed against him in the mazy wavering
   Of a country dance, with her short breath quavering
   She leans upon the beating, throbbing
   Music.  Laughing, sobbing,
   Feet gliding after sliding feet;
   His — hers —
   The ballroom blurs —
   She feels the air
   Lifting her hair,
   And the lapping of water on the stone stair.
   He is there!  He is there!
   Twang harps, and squeal, you thin violins,
   That the dancers may dance, and never discover
   The old stone stair leading down to the river
   With the chestnut-tree branches hanging over
   Her and her lover.
   Theodore, still her lover!
The evening passed like this, in a half faint,
Delirium with waking intervals
Which were the entr'acts.  Under the restraint
Of a large company, the constant calls
For oranges or syrops from the stalls
Outside, the talk, the passing to and fro,
Lotta sat ill at ease, incognito.
She heard the Gebnitz praised, the tenor lauded,
The music vaunted as most excellent.
The scenery and the costumes were applauded,
The latter it was whispered had been sent
From Italy.  The Herr Direktor spent
A fortune on them, so the gossips said.
Charlotta felt a lightness in her head.
When the next act began, her eyes were swimming,
Her prodded ears were aching and confused.
The first notes from the orchestra sent skimming
Her outward consciousness.  Her brain was fused
Into the music, Theodore's music!  Used
To hear him play, she caught his single tone.
For all she noticed they two were alone.