CHAPTER X
A NIGHT ADVENTURE
Nan was going to the Grand Opera for the first time in her life and she was in a state of wild excitement over it. As yet the Corners had not learned the mysterious workings attending ticket buying in Munich, and it seemed to them the most difficult of undertakings.
"From all I can learn," said Miss Helen, "there are three places in which you can buy tickets. The programme is generally announced at the end of each week for the following week, and the tickets are for sale on Sunday morning. You can rise before six o'clock and go stand in line till nine, when the office of the Hof-theatre is open. If you are lucky you may not have to stand more than an hour after that, and if it is not a subscription performance, or as they call it, an abonnement, you may get a good place for a small sum. Missing your chance at the Hof-theatre, you can rush off to the old Academia to take the same chances. If the Academia fails you there is still the Kiosk in the Maximilianplatz. The trouble is, however, that you seldom know until the day of the performance who is going to sing."
"It seems to me a most unsatisfactory arrangement," returned Mrs. Corner. "I could never stand in line for hours, Helen, and surely you should not and we cannot let either of the girls do it."
"Perhaps we shall find an easier way after a while," Miss Helen replied. "When we get to the pension no doubt we shall learn the ropes from Fräulein Bauer. We will wait till then. I have heard that sometimes when the Ring is to be given, the students take their blankets and camp out by eight of the evening before the tickets are to be sold. A friend told me that one student hired a Dienstmann to stand in line for him, paying him six marks, and by the time his turn came in the morning all the tickets had been sold, though I believe that was for a subscription night."
To hear all this was a disappointment to Nan who had hoped that opera would be one of the first pleasures she should have, and she resolved that as soon as they were settled in their pension she would interview Fräulein Bauer on her own account and see if there were really as many difficulties as reported, or if it was merely a matter of knowing how.
It was, however, upon the very day that they arrived bag and baggage at Fräulein Bauer's that Nan came home from her music lesson in a turmoil of excitement. "Frau Burg-Schmidt wants me to go to the opera with her to hear Lohengrin," she cried. "She says I should hear Lohengrin the first of the Wagner operas. Lohengrin and Knote of all things! Oh, mother, say I can go. Quick, please, please."
"My dear, don't get so excited. I don't see why you shouldn't go. I suppose Frau Burg-Schmidt will bring you home."
"Of course. At least she said we could take the car from the Hof-theatre right to our nearest corner. I am to telephone if I can go and she will meet me in front of the theatre, or if I miss her there I have the number of the seat and she will wait in the corridor by the garderobe place nearest. It is dritte Rang, Loge II Vorderplatz 1 and 2."
"It is all Dutch to me," said Mrs. Corner smiling. "But, Nan, you must not go out alone after night even to meet her."
"But it won't be after night. It begins at six o'clock when it is broad daylight or nearly so."
"Six o'clock?"
"Yes, all the operas begin at six or seven and sometimes the very long ones begin as early as four or five. I shall be home early, you will see."
"What a queer idea, and when shall you get your supper?"
"I'll take a bite before I go and nibble something after I get back. You can save me a brodchin from supper, mother, and a bit of ham or sausage; that will be enough."
"It certainly is a peculiar arrangement, to have next to nothing before one starts out and probably be so hungry that there must be a hearty meal just before going to bed."
"But I may go? It is such a chance, for Frau Burg-Schmidt will explain the motifs to me, and tell me when to look for them. She just happened to have the ticket because her husband was called away on business."
"You may go, since it seems an unusual opportunity which I couldn't deprive you of."
"Then I will go telephone."
"You'd better get Fräulein Bauer to do it for you."
"All right."
Nan was not long in concluding her arrangements and next turned her attention to her dress. "I suppose I ought to wear something rather nice," she said to her mother.
"Yes, I think you should. One of your prettiest white frocks will do."
"And my white coat and gloves."
"Yes, the coat will be warm enough, I am sure."
"I don't suppose I ought to wear a hat." Nan was doubtful.
"Probably not. You can put your pink Liberty scarf over your head and you may take my opera glasses."
Nan felt very grand indeed when she was ready to start out, opera bag on arm and spotless gloves on her hands. At the last moment her mother demurred in the matter of going without a hat on the street. "I think you would better wear one," she decided, "and you can leave it at the wardrobe with your coat if necessary, for it does look queer to see you going forth without a hat while it is yet light." So Nan laid aside the scarf and put on a light hat.
"I think myself that I feel more comfortable this way," she said. "I will keep my eyes open and see what other persons do, so as to know the next time."
"You have money with you? In case it rains you must come home in a cab and send Frau Burg-Schmidt in it after you have been dropped at your own door. Be sure to pay the cocher for both courses and give him a tip, so Frau Burg-Schmidt will be at no expense on your account."
"Yes, mother."
"And you know the way perfectly? Perhaps you would better go in a cab anyhow to make sure. I don't feel quite comfortable to see you start out alone."
"Oh, no, mother, I'd much rather walk; it is really no distance at all and Frau Burg-Schmidt says lots of girls go alone and that it is perfectly safe. Munich isn't like Paris."
"Then have a good time, dearie. Good-bye."
Nan put up her mouth for a kiss and started off, her mother watching her from the window and feeling a little uneasy still. Miss Helen was out and so were the other girls. "Perhaps I should have gone with her," said Mrs. Corner to herself, "for even though I am tired we could have taken a cab, but it was all so unexpected and Nan was in such a hurry to get off I didn't think of it. I hope she is all right."
When Miss Helen returned she assured her sister that she need have no fears for Nan. "She will find her way without difficulty, I am sure," she said, "and even if the Frau isn't there she knows enough German to inquire her way to the seats. I have seen numbers of girls going about alone and Nan knows perfectly well how to take care of herself."
Indeed Nan had no difficulty at all in reaching the Hof-theatre, nor in distinguishing the plainly dressed figure standing at the foot of the steps waiting for her. She trembled with excitement at the sound of the first note of the orchestra, and for the remainder of the time was utterly lost in the fortunes of Lohengrin and Elsa, in the wonderful music, and between acts in the strange surroundings. It pleased Frau Burg-Schmidt to see the intent look on the girl's face, and the tensely clasped hands. "She has temperament," she told herself, as Nan's old teacher at home had said before.
"Oh, it is over," sighed the girl when the curtain went down after the last act. "It was so short."
Frau Burg-Schmidt laughed. "Not so short; it has been several hours."
"So long as that? I can scarcely believe it."
"And it is not quite over, for see, they call out the singers over and over again."
Nan watched with pleased smiles while from the galleries came continued applause, tempestuous clappings of hands with cries for "Knote! Knote! Knote! Bravo! Bravo!"
"It is an enthusiastic audience. These Müncheners do always so," said Nan's companion. "We do not fear to applaud when we like a thing."
At last the outer curtain was dropped, but even then the calls and clappings went on, but that was the last of it for the tenor would not appear again.
Nan went home in a dream. She followed Frau Burg-Schmidt mechanically into the car, and sat down, her vision still filled with the picture of Lohengrin disappearing from view in his swan boat. She scarcely heard when Frau Burg-Schmidt said good-night to her.
"Here is your corner, my dear," she told her. "You are but a few steps from your door and you have your key, so I will not wait for I must change here and my car comes."
Nan had but a few steps to go before she stood in front of the great door of the building in which was her pension. She felt in her bag for her key. Fräulein Bauer had said there would be a light burning and a candle set for her. She fumbled around for some minutes but could not find her keys. She tried the handle of the door; it would not turn. In Munich evidently everything was closed up early. She stood wondering whether she should ring the Hausmann's bell or the one of the pension when some one passing saw the white figure standing there and halted, then passed on, but presently returned. Nan shrank into the shadow of the big door. Suppose the young man should speak to her, for a young man she could see it was from the single swift glance she gave. What could he think of a girl alone in the street after ten o'clock?
Suddenly the Lohengrin vision faded and she was only Nan Corner in a strange city in a foreign land trying to get into her boarding-house. She pressed the electric button under the name of the pension, and again began to search in her bag for the keys, turning toward the light as she did so, the better to see.
The young man who was standing a few paces off suddenly came forward. "Nan, Nan Corner," he exclaimed. "What are you doing wandering about Munich alone?"
A friendly voice and a solicitous one. Nan looked up. "Dr. Paul," she cried, "of all people. Oh, I am so glad to see you." She explained the situation, ending with: "I know the keys must be somewhere, but they are not in my bag." Again she searched nervously.
"Let me hold your bag," said Dr. Paul. "And you look in your pocket, if you have any."
Nan gave a little laugh, and put her hand in her coat pocket but the keys were not there. Suddenly her hand went up to the chain around her neck and then down to her belt. "I remember," she said, a little abashed, "I took the keys from the bag and put them on the chain so as to be sure not to lose them, and I was so perfectly carried away by the music I forgot I had done it. Here they are, Dr. Paul. I am glad I didn't ring again for evidently the maids weren't roused by the first ring."
Dr. Paul turned the key in the lock and they stepped inside, the great door closing with a clang after them. All was dark and silent.
"Goodness!" cried Nan, "and they said they would have a light for me. Imagine coming home at ten o'clock at night anywhere in America and finding it like this."
"They certainly drive their thrift beyond the point of necessity, it seems to me. I have some matches in my pocket; I will strike a light and we will look for the stairs."
"We only came to the pension to-day and that is why I don't remember exactly in the dark," said Nan. "How long have you been here, Dr. Paul?"
"I came to town yesterday. My pension is a block further on. I am with a German family whom some friends recommended to me, and I think I shall be very comfortable. They speak North German, which is an advantage. I was going to look you all up to-morrow. Your Aunt Sarah told me I should probably find you here."
"And shall you stay long?"
"Several months. I am here for some special courses, and for hospital work."
"Then we shall see you often."
"You can count on that. Here are the stairs and I see a glimmer of light on the next floor. We'll follow it up and probably will find your candle."
They stumbled up the winding stairs which grew lighter as they mounted. At the top they found a night lamp on a table and a row of candles set in line. Each candlestick bore a slip of paper. The pair examined these gravely. "Zimmer ten, Pension Bauer," read Nan. "I suppose that must be mine. Ours is the next flight up. We are on the second floor, or what they call second over here; we would say third."
"I'll go up with you to keep off the bugaboos," said the doctor taking the lighted candle from her hand and following her up.
At the head of the stairs Nan turned. "How will you get out?" she asked. "I am sure the front door shut with a spring lock. I will go back with you."
"Then I'll have to see you to your door again."
"And we might keep that up indefinitely." They both laughed softly.
"Give me your key," said the doctor, "and I'll let myself out. I will bring it to you in the morning. You will not want it till then?"
"No, indeed, but I hate to think of your going down in the dark."
"Do you think I'm afraid of the dark, Nan Corner?"
"Of course not, but – "
"You are, I verily believe."
"Not exactly, only it would have been sort of boogy and spooky if I had to come through that court and up that first flight by myself."
"And it would not have been the proper thing for you to do."
"Nobody ever imagined that in this age such a necessity would arise. We will all petition for a light at the very entrance. I know mother and Aunt Helen will be horrified at this outer darkness. I was so thankful to see you, though at first – "
"Own up you were scared."
"Yes, I was, and with good reason. I saw you stop and I tried to climb in through the keyhole or the crack of the door, but couldn't. Oh, but I was thankful it was you, and I remember it isn't the first time you've proved a friend in need. I don't forget last year. Be sure to come early to-morrow. I am wild to hear all about Aunt Sarah and the boys, not to mention all the other dear people at home. Good-night. Won't you take my candle, even if you don't the candlestick?"
"No, I would dribble the grease all over myself. Good-night and thanks for the key."
Nan stood holding the candle over the baluster until the last footfall had ceased and then she unlocked the door which led into Fräulein Bauer's apartment. She found her mother and her Aunt Helen waiting for her. A tray on the table held rolls and butter, some slices of cold ham, a glass of milk and a compote of apples. "I am so glad you waited up for me," said the girl as she came in.
"It isn't very late," said her aunt, "so it is nothing of a favor."
"I know it isn't, but it seems as if I had been away days."
"Has it been as great as all that?" asked her mother. "I am glad to see you back safe and sound. Fräulein Bauer said she would have a candle below for you, so I knew you would find your way in."
"Yes, but it is as dark as pitch on the ground floor, and it isn't like it is in Paris where the concierge is right at hand to let you in if necessary. I suppose there is a Hausmann, but there are no signs of his having rooms anywhere about."
"And you say there is no light at the entrance?"
"Not a glimmer; it is as black as a wolf's mouth."
"That will never do," said Mrs. Corner decidedly. "We can never in the world stay here under such conditions. Suppose we have callers in the evening, what is to be done?"
"Give it up," returned Nan.
"And for ourselves, a party of ladies coming in after dark to be obliged to enter a dark court and come up as dark a stairway is not to be thought of. That must be remedied at once. I shall see to it to-morrow."
"So the opera was great, was it, Nan?" said her aunt.
"I should think it was. I will tell you all about it presently. At first I didn't believe I could ever think of anything else for days, but I had an adventure and – "
"What do you mean, Nan?" asked her mother in alarm.
Then Nan told about the missing key, the meeting with Dr. Paul Woods and the journey up-stairs. "I was scared to death at first," she admitted.
"I was right in my misgivings about letting you go off alone," said her mother. "I cannot understand how Frau Burg-Schmidt should have left you to come in by yourself."
"She didn't think anything of it, for there were ever so many girls coming home by themselves. Frau Burg-Schmidt did get out with me, of course, and would have come all the way, but she had to change cars and her car happened to come along right away, so as she knew I had a key and that I was but a few steps from the door she left me. If I hadn't been so stupid as to forget about changing the keys from the bag to the chain it would have been all right. No, it wouldn't have been quite all right, for I should have had to grope my way up that dark stairway alone. Oh, but I was glad to see Dr. Paul. He always was a dear. Wasn't it strange that it should happen to be he who came along at just the right moment?"
"It certainly was most fortunate," acknowledged her mother. "Is he to be here for any length of time?"
"Oh, my yes. He is going to do some studying and we shall see him often. Now I will tell you about the opera. It was heavenly, and the stage setting was perfectly fine. I shall never forget that beautiful blue and silver Lohengrin and I was so mad with Elsa for doubting him, yet I was sorry for her, too, because it was all that wicked Ortrud's fault. The music was divine. Such an orchestra! and Knote sang like an angel; you never heard a more beautiful voice, and oh, mother, it was so perfectly fine to have Frau Burg-Schmidt explain the different motives to me and tell me when they came in. You have no idea how much more interesting it made it. She is going over the score with me and wants me to learn to distinguish for myself. I think I can pick out several already. She is so enthusiastic and rouses your ambition so you want to do your very best."
"But I cannot excuse her leaving you in the street like that, and I am afraid I cannot allow you to go out with her, if there is a chance of such a thing occurring again."
"Oh, mother, please don't say that, and please don't say anything to her about it, for I think she is very sensitive and high-strung, and it really was my fault for being so stupid as to forget where I put the keys."
"That may have been a part of the trouble, but a woman of Frau Burg-Schmidt's experience should know better than to desert a young girl like you at this time of night in a foreign city." Then seeing Nan's look of distress, she added, "However, we will not talk any more about it now, but provide against such a contingency next time. Did you have good places?"
"Very good; that is, it was a fine place for hearing the music, and all the musical people prefer it to the parquet or the balcony where the seats are much higher priced. And, mother, I might have gone in my school dress for all it mattered. People wear anything; flannel blouses, queer reform frocks which look perfectly dreadful on the fat women – all sorts of funny rigs are worn. They sit around and munch chocolate or take rolls from their bags and nibble those between the acts or eat pretzels. It is the most free and easy place I ever saw. For all that, there was perfect order, not a whisper while the music was going on. Of course the lights are turned down during the performance and are only turned up when the curtain drops. Every one was so absorbed and didn't dream of talking or looking bored as I have seen them do at home at plays."
"I must confess there is that advantage on the part of a German audience," remarked Miss Helen. "They go for the pure purpose of hearing the music, not to show their clothes nor to chatter with their friends nor because it is fashionable, and I think we may well take pattern from them in our big cities."
"And the enthusiasm," Nan went on; "it made me wild to hear them call and call for Knote and for Morena. Oh, I did enjoy it. I shall never forget this night."
"But you are forgetting to eat anything," said her mother.
"I'll drink the milk, but I really don't feel hungry, for I am too excited; besides Frau Burg-Schmidt had some chocolate with her and I ate a piece of that. I must go to bed, for Dr. Paul is coming early to see us and to return the key. I have had such a glorious time, mother dear, so please forget the adventure part of it."
"Don't lie awake thinking about Lohengrin," said her mother kissing her good-night.
"I'll try not."
"I hope it hasn't been too much for that excitable brain of hers," said Mrs. Corner as Nan went out.
"Nan will always be intense," replied Miss Helen. "We can't deprive her of such joy as she finds in music because of that."
"No, but she does enjoy things with such a vengeance."
"And suffers in proportion. That is the way she is built, Mary."
"Like her father, very like."
"Dear Jack. Yes, she is like him."
The two sat lost in thought for a while. Presently Miss Helen spoke. "How old is this Dr. Paul Woods?" she asked. "I have almost forgotten. He was away at college while we were at Uplands."
"He is not more than twenty-three or four. A very bright young man and a fine one. I've known him since he was born. His father has always been our family physician, you know, Helen, and Mrs. Woods is one of my dearest friends."
"Yes, I remember that. Mother always preferred Dr. Harley, so I never saw much of the Woods," said Miss Helen folding up her newspaper and rising. "It is bedtime, Mary."
"I know. I am going." But Mrs. Corner sat for another half hour, her book unnoticed before her.