Fair Margaret
Page 47'Nothing can move that man!' cried Madame Bonanni, in a helpless tone.
'Nothing but the sound of your marvellous voice, my angel artist,' said
Schreiermeyer. 'That always makes me weep, especially in the last act
of this opera.' Margaret could not fancy the manager blubbering, though she had more
than once seen people in front with their handkerchiefs to their eyes
during the scene in the tomb.
'Put my wig on,' said Madame Bonanni to the cadaverous maid, and she
sat down in front of the toilet-table. 'We must talk business at once,'
she continued, suddenly speaking with the utmost calm. 'The appointment
is at my house, at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, Schreiermeyer. Miss
if you can get him.' 'I have not the Minister of Fine Arts in my pocket, dearest lady,'
observed the manager, 'but I will try. Why do you name such a very
early hour?' 'Because I breakfast at eleven. Tell the Minister that the King is
coming too. That will bring him. All Ministers are snobs.' 'The King?' repeated Margaret in surprise, and somewhat aghast.
'He is in Paris,' explained Madame Bonanni carelessly. 'He's an old
friend of mine, and we dined together last night. I told him about you
and he said he would come if he could but you never can count on those
people.' Margaret was too timid to ask what king Madame Bonanni was talking of,
but she supposed her teacher would tell her in due time; and, after
had never spoken to a royalty in her life and thought it would be very
amusing to see a real, live king in the prima donna's eccentric
surroundings.
'I shall turn you all out when you have heard her sing,' continued
Madame Bonanni. You and I will lunch quite alone, my dear, and talk
things over. There is one good point in Schreiermeyer's character. He
never flatters unless he wants something. If he tells you that you sing
well, it means an engagement next year. If he says you sing divinely,
your début will be next week, or as soon as you can rehearse with a
'So that is settled,' she said, turning sharp round on the stool, which
creaked loudly. 'Go home and go to bed, my children, unless you want to
hear poor old Bonanni sing the rest of this stupid opera!' She laughed, at herself perhaps; but suddenly in the tones Margaret
heard a far-off suggestion of sadness that went to her heart very
strangely. The singer turned her back again and seemed to pay no more
attention to her visitors. Margaret came close to her, to say goodbye,
and to thank her for all she was doing. The great artist looked up
quietly into the young girl's eyes for a moment, and laid a hand on
hers very kindly.