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He had the aspect of one wakes from a dreadful dream. "Childrun!" he whispered brokenly. "Childrun! If yoll please, once more. Act One, Opening Chorus. Come! La-la-la!" "La-la-la!" chanted the subdued members of the ensemble.
I weave it into the finale of the second act, and we have an echo of it, sung off stage, in the third act. What I play you now is the second-act duet. The verse is longer. So! The male voice begins." A pleasant time was had by all for ten minutes. "Ah, but this is not rehearsing, childrun!" cried Mr Saltzburg remorsefully at the end of that period. "This is not business.
There was a general movement, and chairs and benches were dragged to the piano. Mr Saltzburg causing a momentary delay by opening a large brown music-bag and digging in it like a terrier at a rat-hole, conversation broke out again. Mr Saltzburg emerged from the bag, with his hands full of papers, protesting. "Childrun! Chil-drun! If you please, less noise and attend to me!"
She mused awhile, a rather anxious expression clouding her perfect profile. She looked like a meditative Greek Goddess. "If he doesn't," she added with maidenly dignity, "it's the las' time I go out with the big stiff. I'd tie a can to him quicker'n look at him!" A murmur of approval greeted this admirable sentiment. "Childrun!" protested Mr Saltzburg. "Chil-drun!
Mr Saltzburg obviously weakened. His fingers touched the keys irresolutely. "But, childrun!" "I am sure it would be a great pleasure to all of us," said the duchess graciously, "if you would play it. There is nothing I enjoy more than a good varlse." Mr Saltzburg capitulated.
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