To the music-loving public of Vienna, first nights and debuts of
promising students are great events, especially when the aspirants for
musical honors come from the home conservatory, and more especially
when a certain student of the conservatory is heralded as a singer with
a phenomenal voice, which she will display in the famous role of Lucia
di Lammermoor.
So it was that long before the doors of the imposing opera house were
opened, eager crowds excitedly discussing the appearance of the new
singer, stood at the entrance impatiently awaiting the hour. And before
the portals had been thrown open half an hour, the great house was
filled to suffocation.
Many of the Austrian nobility sat in their private boxes, and those
persons belonging to the aristocracy occupied seats in the parterre
and, in fact, every available place. The people, dangerously crowding
the galleries, looked in open-eyed wonder at the stage where
Christine, in the costume of Lucia stood trembling with shy timidity.
A vague terror overshadowed her lovely features. She was endeavoring
heroically to enter into her role, but the sight of so many people,
whom for the first time she saw assembled, and the countless number
of eager eyes riveted on her, made her dizzy. She lost her courage,
and stood there helpless and frightened with downcast eyes, unable to
commence, in spite of the fact that the nervous stage manager in the
wings had already twice given her the cue.
The director of the conservatory stood in the wings at the opposite
side of the stage, and nodded encouragingly to her. But as she seemed
not to see him, he became livid, and wrathfully commenced to revile
himself for having yielded to the temptation of bestowing this
difficult role on Duke Hohenlohe's protege, who evidently was not
sufficiently trained in self-control to appear as an independent star.
Just at the decisive moment, however, Duke Hohenlohe entered the
proscenium box and smiled kindly at her. Christine's fingers closed
spasmodically over each other. She perceived at last what was at stake.
With eyes full of tears, she controlled herself by a superb effort,
and looked up at him as if saying: "You may trust me. I shall be equal
to the situation," and then she began to sing, at first timidly and
tremulously, but soon carried away by the grandeur of this passionate
role, she surpassed herself; her high notes echoed through every part
of the vast opera house with such dazzling magnificence, that an
uproarious "Bravo," rang vociferously forth from thousands of voices,
and thousands of hands applauded wildly.
And when she had rendered the great bravura aria in the second act,
with rare perfection, a continuous storm of applause greeted her. Duke
Hohenlohe smiled with gratification. He was indeed proud of his little
protege, whom he had discovered in the blinding snow storm.
The director of the Conservatory, still standing in the wings, could
not believe his eyes and ears. Christine was not only a great singer,
but she had proved herself a great actress. The manner in which she had
portrayed the mad Lucia was an immense surprise. Flowers and bouquets
of all sizes and colors flew from all directions upon the young
debutante. Curtseying timidly, her lovely face flushed and happy beyond
description, she looked at the corner in the second gallery where Mrs.
Miller sat praying with folded hands, as if in a trance.
"Mother--dear Mother," she murmured to herself, with profound humility,
and disappeared.
The Duke Hohenlohe had just entered the imperial box where sat the
Emperor. With a reverential bow, and a look of great satisfaction on
his noble face, he said smilingly:
"Your Majesty, it was I who discovered the new star."
"Indeed? Tell me how," responded his Majesty, greatly interested.
"I happened to listen to her singing on Christmas Eve. She stood in my
courtyard with an old broken violin and shivered with cold; and when
she sang the Lorelei, the snow circled around her wretched little form.
It was a pity."
"Duke, you have aroused my curiosity. Can I--?"
"See her? Oh, your Majesty--the great honor--she will be overwhelmed,"
the Duke replied, bowing deeply as he withdrew from the imperial box.
An instant later, Christine, greatly confused and flattered by the
request of the Emperor, stood in his presence and received his hearty
congratulations. As if in a dream she glanced at the second gallery
where her mother still sat, and wept tears of joy. The Emperor
cordially extended his royal hand, which she was permitted to kiss
before retiring. The following day the success of the new star as
Lucia was heralded over the city. The leading journals contained long
articles about her magnificent rendering of the difficult role, and
the beauty of her voice, at the same time, complimenting the committee
of directors of the Imperial Opera House for this opportunity given
to native talent, thus making an exception to the general rule that
prophets are not recognized in their own country.