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She herself had made a good start, at any rate, and now, if she could get to sleep Yes, they were all more interesting than they used to be. Look at Harsanyi, who had been so long retarded; what a place he had made for himself in Vienna. If she could get to sleep, she would show him something to-morrow that he would understand. She got quickly into bed and moved about freely between the sheets.
In the beginning it was an artist that you wanted to be; well, you may be an artist, always." Thea drew a long breath. Her hands fell in her lap. "So I'm just where I began. No teacher, nothing done. No money." Harsanyi turned away. "Feel no apprehension about the money, Miss Kronborg. Come back in the fall and we shall manage that. I shall even go to Mr. Thomas if necessary.
Thea brought her foot down sharply on the bare floor. Mrs. Harsanyi looked down at the foot in perplexity. "You mustn't wear such high heels, my dear. They will spoil your walk and make you mince along. Can't you at least learn to avoid what you dislike in these singers? I was never able to care for Mrs. Priest's singing." Thea was sitting with her chin lowered.
She had never learned to work away from the piano until she came to Harsanyi, and it helped her more than anything had ever helped her before. She almost never worked now with the sunny, happy contentment that had filled the hours when she worked with Wunsch "like a fat horse turning a sorgum mill," she said bitterly to herself. Then, by sticking to it, she could always do what she set out to do.
Come back this evening, then, and we will go to dinner somewhere, to some cheerful place. I think you need a party." Thea brightened. "Oh, I do! I'll love to come; that will be like old times. You see," she lingered a moment, softening, "I wouldn't mind if there were only ONE of them I could really admire." "How about Bowers?" Mrs. Harsanyi asked as they were approaching the stairway.
She finished the song only to begin it with fresh enthusiasm. She sat there singing it until the darkening room was so flooded with it that Harsanyi threw open a window. "You really must stop it, Miss Kronborg. I shan't be able to get it out of my head to-night." Thea laughed tolerantly as she began to gather up her music. "Why, I thought you had gone, Mr. Harsanyi. I like that song."
When the lights went out and the violins began to quaver their long D against the rude figure of the basses, Mrs. Harsanyi saw her husband's fingers fluttering on his knee in a rapid tattoo. At the moment when SIEGLINDE entered from the side door, she leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, "Oh, the lovely creature!" But he made no response, either by voice or gesture.
I could have dressed her so that she would have been very striking. She had so much individuality." Harsanyi bent forward, looking at the floor. "Yes, I know. I shall miss her, of course." Mrs. Harsanyi looked at her husband's fine head against the gray window. She had never felt deeper tenderness for him than she did at that moment. Her heart ached for him.
Harsanyi looked up quickly, "'Die Lorelei, you mean? One couldn't think of anything else anywhere in the house. I thought she was possessed. But don't you think her voice is wonderful sometimes?" Harsanyi tasted his wine slowly. "My dear, I've told you before that I don't know what I think about Miss Kronborg, except that I'm glad there are not two of her.
Her clothes, too, were different, like the attire of a shopgirl who tries to follow the fashions; a purple suit, a piece of cheap fur, a three-cornered purple hat with a pompon sticking up in front. The queer country clothes she used to wear suited her much better, Mrs. Harsanyi thought. But such trifles, after all, were accidental and remediable. She put her hand on the girl's strong shoulder.
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