THE SONG OF THE LARK
deed, she burst out with the flaming cry of their kinship: "If you are Siegmund, I am Sieglinde!" Laughing, singing, bounding, exulting,—with their passion and their sword,—the Volsungs ran out into the spring night.
As the curtain fell, Harsanyi turned to his wife. "At last," he sighed, "somebody with enough! Enough voice and talent and beauty, enough physical power. And such a noble, noble style!"
"I can scarcely believe it, Andor. I can see her now, that clumsy girl, hunched up over your piano. I can see her shoulders. She always seemed to labor so with her back. And I shall never forget that night when you found her voice."
The audience kept up its clamor until, after many reappearances with the tenor, Kronborg came before the curtain alone. The house met her with a roar, a greeting that was almost savage in its fierceness. The singer's eyes, sweeping the house, rested for a moment on Harsanyi, and she waved her long sleeve toward his box.
"She ought to be pleased that you are here," said Mrs. Harsanyi. "I wonder if she knows how much she owes to you."
"She owes me nothing," replied her husband quickly. "She paid her way. She always gave something back, even then."
"I remember you said once that she would do nothing common," said Mrs. Harsanyi thoughtfully.
"Just so. She might fail, die, get lost in the pack. But if she achieved, it would be nothing common. There are people whom one can trust for that. There is one way in which they will never fail." Harsanyi retired into his own reflections.
After the second act Fred Ottenburg brought Archie to the Harsanyis' box and introduced him as an old friend of Miss Kronborg. The head of a musical publishing house joined them, bringing with him a journalist and the president of a German singing society. The conversation was
476
