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.
[Illustration: CHAPTER XI
SETTLING DOWN]