The return of the first regiments of the united armies was delayed
until after the middle of May, and the _Siegesfest_ accordingly had to
be postponed. But the delay was rather in Mr. Hahn's favor, as it
gave him ample time to perfect his arrangements, so that, when the day
arrived, the "Haute Noblesse" presented a most brilliant appearance.
Vividly colored transparencies, representing the most sanguinary
battle scenes in more or less fictitious surroundings were suspended
among the trees; Danish officers were seen in all sorts of humble
attitudes, surrendering their swords or begging for mercy, while the
Prussian and Austrian heroes, maddened with warlike fury, stormed
onward in the path of glory and victory. The gas-jet programme, with
the royal and military portraits, was carried out to perfection; and
each new wonder was hailed with immense enthusiasm by the assembled
multitude. Innumerable Chinese lanterns glimmered throughout the
garden, and from time to time red, white, and blue magnesium lights
sent up a great blaze of color among the trees, now making the budding
leaves blush crimson, now silvering them, as with hoar-frost, or
illuminating their delicate tracery with an intense blue which shone
out brilliantly against the nocturnal sky. Even the flower-beds were
made to participate in the patriotic frenzy; and cunning imitations,
in colored glass, of tulips, lilies, and roses, with little gas-jets
concealed in their chalices, were scattered among the natural flowers,
which looked like ghosts of their real selves among the splendid
counterfeits. In order to tune the audience into perfect accord with
the occasion, Mr. Hahn had also engaged three monster bands, which,
since early in the afternoon, had been booming forth martial melodies
from three different platforms draped in national banners.
The hour was now approaching when Germania was to lift up her voice to
celebrate the glorious achievements of her sons. The audience, which
consisted largely of soldiers and officers, were thronging forward to
the tribune where she was advertised to appear, and the waiters, who
had difficulty in supplying the universal demand for beer, had formed
a line from the bar to the platform, along which the foam-crowned
schooners were passing in uninterrupted succession. Fritz, who was
fond of fraternizing with the military profession, had attached
himself to a young soldier in Austrian uniform with the iron cross
upon his bosom. They were seated amicably together at a small table
near the stage, and the soldier, by liberal treats of beer, had been
induced to relate some of his adventures in the war. He was a tall,
robust man, with a large blonde mustache and an open, fearless
countenance. He talked very modestly about his own share in the
victories, and cooled Fritz's enthusiasm by the extreme plainness of
his statements.
"It was rather an uneven game at the start," he said. "They were so
few and we were so many. We couldn't have helped whipping them, even
if we had done worse than we did."
"You don't mean to say that we were not brave," responded Fritz, with
an ardor which was more than half feigned.
"No, I don't say that," said the warrior, gravely. "We were brave, and
so were they. Therefore the numbers had to decide it."
He emptied his glass and rose to go.
"No, wait a moment," urged Fritz, laying hold of his arm. "Take
another glass. You must stay and hear Germania. She is to sing 'Die
Wacht am Rhein' and 'Heil dir in Siegeskranz'."
"Very well," answered the soldier, seating himself again. "I have
furlough for to-night, and I can stay here as well as anywhere."
Two more glasses were ordered, and presently arrived.
"Listen!" began Fritz, leaning confidentially across the table. "I
suppose you have a sweetheart?"
"Yes, I have, God bless her," replied the other simply, "though I
haven't seen her these six months, and not heard from her, either. She
isn't much of a hand for writing, and, somehow, I never could get the
right crooks on the letters."
"Here's to her health," said Fritz, lifting his glass and touching it
to that of his companion.
"With all my heart," responded the latter, and drained the beer mug
at one draught.
They sat for a while in silence, Fritz trying to estimate the
pecuniary value of the audience, the soldier gazing, with a half-sad
and dreamy expression, into the dark sky.
"Curious lot, the women," broke out the junior Hahn chuckling to
himself, as if absorbed in some particularly delightful retrospect.
"There is the girl, now, who is to sing as Germania to-night,--and,
between you and me, I don't mind telling you that she is rather
smitten with me. She is as fine a specimen of a woman as ever trod in
two shoes; splendid arms, a neck like alabaster with the tiniest tinge
of red in it, and--well, I might expatiate further, but I wont. Now,
you wouldn't think it of a girl like that; but the fact is, she is as
arch and coquettish as a kitten. It was only the other night I went to
see her--the old woman was in the room--"
A tremendous burst of applause completely drowned Fritz's voice, as
Germania walked out upon the stage. She was dressed in white, flowing
robes, with a golden zone about her waist and a glittering diadem in
her hair. A mantle of the finest white cashmere, fastened with a Roman
clasp on her left shoulder and drawn through the zone on the right
side, showed the fierce Prussian eagle, embroidered in black and gold.
A miniature copy of the same glorious bird, also in gilt embroidery,
shone on her breast. She had been, elaborately trained by her
_maestro_ as to how she was to step the stage, what attitudes she was
to assume, etc., and the first part of the programme she performed
very creditably, and with sole reference to her instructions.
The orchestra began to rumble something by way of an introduction. The
soldier in the Austrian uniform at Fritz's table turned pale, and sat
staring fixedly upon the stage. Ilka stood for a moment gazing out
upon the surging mass of humanity at her feet; she heard the clanking
of the scabbards and swords, and saw the white and the blue uniforms
commingled in friendly confusion. Where was. Hansel now--the dear,
gay, faithful Hansel? She struck out boldly, and her strong, sonorous
voice soared easily above the orchestral accompaniments. "Heil dir im
Siegeskranz!"--she was hailing the returning warriors with a song of
triumph, while Hansel, perhaps, lay on some bloody battle-field, with
sightless eyes staring against the awful sky. Ilka's voice began to
tremble, and the tears flooded her beautiful eyes. The soldier in the
Austrian uniform trembled, too, and never removed his gaze from the
countenance of the singer. There was joy and triumph in her song; but
there was sorrow, too--sorrow for the many brave ones that remained
behind, sorrow for the maidens that loved them and the mothers that
wept for them. As Ilka withdrew, after having finished the last
stanza, the audience grew almost frantic with enthusiasm; the men
jumped up on benches and tables, shouted, and swung their hats, and
even the women cheered at the tops of their voices. A repetition was
loudly called for, and Ilka, although herself overcome with emotion,
was obliged to yield. She walked up to the footlights and began to
yodle softly. It sounded strangely airy and far away. She put her hand
to her ear and listened for a moment, as if she expected a reply; but
there was a breathless silence in the audience. Only a heavy sigh came
from the table where Fritz sat with the Austrian soldier. The yodle
grew louder; then suddenly some one sprang up, not a dozen rods from
the stage, and sang, in a deep, magnificent baritone:
Tell me, Ilka on the hill-top,
While the rivers seaward flow,
Is thy heart as true and loving
As it was a year ago?
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho!
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho! Hohli-oh!
Ilka stood for a while as if stunned; her eyes peered in the direction
whence the voice had come; her face lighted up with a sweet, serene
happiness; but the tears streamed down her cheeks as she answered:
Dearest Hansel in the valley,
I will tell you, tell you true,
Yes, my heart is ever loving,
True and loving unto you!
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho!
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho! Hohli-oh!
Suddenly she made a leap over the edge of the stage, and in the next
moment the gorgeous Germania lay sobbing on the soldier's bosom. It
made a very touching tableau, and some of the male sceptics among the
audience were inclined to view it in that light. Fritz Hahn, as soon
as the idea was suggested to him, eagerly adopted it, and admitted in
confidence to half a dozen friends, whom he had allowed to suspect the
fair singer's devotion to him, that it was all a pre-arranged effect,
and that he was himself the author of it.
"Germania weeping on the breast of her returning son," he said. "What
could be more appropriate on a day like this?"
The maidens and matrons, however, would listen to no such theory; they
wept openly at the sight of the reunited lovers, and have until this
day maintained that the scene was too spontaneous and genuine to be a
product of Mr. Hahn's inventive genius.
The singing of "Die Wacht am Rhein," although advertised on the
programme, had to be indefinitely postponed, for Germania had suddenly
disappeared, and was nowhere to be found. The Austrian soldier,
however, was seen later in the evening, and some one heard him
inquiring in a fierce tone for the junior Hahn; but the junior Hahn,
probably anticipating some unpleasantness, had retired from the public
gaze.