matinée you may hear a girl . . . an extraordinary girl! We cannot make out quite yet whether she is to be a Rachel or a Viardot . . . for she sings exquisitely, and recites and plays. ... A talent of the very first rank, my dear boy! I 'm not exaggerating. Well then, won't you take a ticket? Five roubles for a seat in the front row.'
'And where has this marvellous girl sprung from?' asked Aratov.
Kupfer grinned. 'That I really can't say. . . . Of late she 's found a home with the princess. The princess you know is a protector of every one of that sort. . . . But you saw her, most likely, that evening.'
Aratov gave a faint inward start . . . but he said nothing.
'She has even played somewhere in the provinces,' Kupfer continued, 'and altogether she 's created for the theatre. There! you 'll see for yourself!'
'What 's her name?' asked Aratov.
'Clara . . .'
'Clara?' Aratov interrupted a second time.
'Impossible!'
'Why impossible? Clara . . . Clara Militch; it 's not her real name . . . but that 's what she 's called. She 's going to sing a song of Glinka's . . . and of Tchaykovsky's ; and then she 'll
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