part 6-第18章
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NOTHUNG had left the tree。 IN HOCHSTER TRUNKENHEIT； in…
deed； she burst out with the flaming cry of their kinship：
〃If you are SIEGMUND； I am SIEGLINDE！〃 Laughing； sing…
ing； 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 shoul…
ders。 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 re…
appearances with the tenor； Kronborg came before the cur…
tain 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 presi…
dent of a German singing society。 The conversation was
chiefly about the new SIEGLINDE。 Mrs。 Harsanyi was gra…
cious and enthusiastic； her husband nervous and uncom…
municative。 He smiled mechanically； and politely an…
swered questions addressed to him。 〃Yes； quite so。〃 〃Oh；
certainly。〃 Every one； of course； said very usual things
with great conviction。 Mrs。 Harsanyi was used to hearing
and uttering the commonplaces which such occasions de…
manded。 When her husband withdrew into the shadow；
she covered his retreat by her sympathy and cordiality。
In reply to a direct question from Ottenburg； Harsanyi
said； flinching； 〃ISOLDE？ Yes； why not？ She will sing all
the great roles； I should think。〃
The chorus director said something about 〃dramatic
temperament。〃 The journalist insisted that it was 〃ex…
plosive force；〃 〃projecting power。〃
Ottenburg turned to Harsanyi。 〃What is it； Mr。 Har…
sanyi？ Miss Kronborg says if there is anything in her；
you are the man who can say what it is。〃
The journalist scented copy and was eager。 〃Yes； Har…
sanyi。 You know all about her。 What's her secret？〃
Harsanyi rumpled his hair irritably and shrugged his
shoulders。 〃Her secret？ It is every artist's secret；〃he
waved his hand；〃passion。 That is all。 It is an open
secret； and perfectly safe。 Like heroism； it is inimitable
in cheap materials。〃
The lights went out。 Fred and Archie left the box as
the second act came on。
Artistic growth is； more than it is anything else； a refining
of the sense of truthfulness。 The stupid believe that to
be truthful is easy； only the artist； the great artist； knows
how difficult it is。 That afternoon nothing new came to
Thea Kronborg； no enlightenment； no inspiration。 She
merely came into full possession of things she had been
refining and perfecting for so long。 Her inhibitions chanced
to be fewer than usual； and； within herself； she entered
into the inheritance that she herself had laid up； into the
fullness of the faith she had kept before she knew its name
or its meaning。
Often when she sang； the best she had was unavailable；
she could not break through to it； and every sort of dis…
traction and mischance came between it and her。 But
this afternoon the closed roads opened； the gates dropped。
What she had so often tried to reach； lay under her hand。
She had only to touch an idea to make it live。
While she was on the stage she was conscious that every
movement was the right movement； that her body was
absolutely the instrument of her idea。 Not for nothing
had she kept it so severely； kept it filled with such energy
and fire。 All that deep…rooted vitality flowered in her
voice； her face； in her very finger…tips。 She felt like a tree
bursting into bloom。 And her voice was as flexible as her
body； equal to any demand； capable of every NUANCE。
With the sense of its perfect companionship； its entire
trustworthiness； she had been able to throw herself into
the dramatic exigencies of the part； everything in her at
its best and everything working together。
The third act came on； and the afternoon slipped by。
Thea Kronborg's friends； old and new； seated about the
house on different floors and levels； enjoyed her triumph
according to their natures。 There was one there； whom
nobody knew； who perhaps got greater pleasure out of
that afternoon than Harsanyi himself。 Up in the top gal…
lery a gray…haired little Mexican； withered and bright as
a string of peppers beside a'dobe door； kept praying and
cursing under his breath； beating on the brass railing
and shouting 〃Bravo！ Bravo！〃 until he was repressed by
his neighbors。
He happened to be there because a Mexican band was
to be a feature of Barnum and Bailey's circus that year。
One of the managers of the show had traveled about the
Southwest； signing up a lot of Mexican musicians at low
wages； and had brought them to New York。 Among them
was Spanish Johnny。 After Mrs。 Tellamantez died； Johnny
abandoned his trade and went out with his mandolin to
pick up a living for one。 His irregularities had become
his regular mode of life。
When Thea Kronborg came out of the stage entrance
on Fortieth Street； the sky was still flaming with the last
rays of the sun that was sinking off behind the North
River。 A little crowd of people was lingering about the
doormusicians from the orchestra who were waiting
for their comrades； curious young men； and some poorly
dressed girls who were hoping to get a glimpse of the
singer。 She bowed graciously to the group； through her
veil； but she did not look to the right or left as she crossed
the sidewalk to her cab。 Had she lifted her eyes an instant
and glanced out through her white scarf； she must have
seen the only man in the crowd who had removed his hat
when she emerged； and who stood with it crushed up in
his hand。 And she would have known him； changed as he
was。 His lustrous black hair was full of gray； and his face
was a good deal worn by the EXTASI； so that it seemed to
have shrunk away from his shining eyes and teeth and left
them too prominent。 But she would have known him。
She passed so near that he could have touched her； and he
did not put on his hat until her taxi had snorted away。
Then he walked down Broadway with his hands in his
overcoat pockets； wearing a smile which embraced all the
stream of life that passed him and the lighted towers that
rose into the limpid blue of the evening sky。 If the singer；
going home exhausted in her cab； was wondering what
was the good of it all； that smile； could she have seen it；
would have answered her。 It is the only commensurate
answer。
Here we must leave Thea Kronborg。 From this time
on the story of her life is the story of her achievement。
The growth of an artist is an intellectual and spiritual
development which can scarcely be followed in a personal
narrative。 This story attempts to deal only with the sim…
ple and concrete beginnings which color and accent an
artist's work； and to give some account of how a Moon…
stone girl found her way out of a vague； easy…going world
into a life of disciplined endeavor。 Any account of the
loyalty of young hearts to some exalted ideal； and the
passion with which they strive； will always； in some of
us； rekindle generous emotions。
End of Part VI
