Alfred Läutner’s face was without a care no longer. It looked as though he was a little flushed, and with his head thrust forward he peered into Amra’s eyes, disturbed, uncomprehending, searching.
But she, Amra, without altering her aggressive position, continued to speak, with the same weighty emphasis: “And you must sing a song, Christian, which Herr Läutner has composed, and which he will accompany on the piano; that will prove the best and most effective climax of our party.”
A pause ensued, an oppressive pause. But then, quite suddenly and strangely, Herr Läutner, similarly infected, carried away and excited, made a step forward, and, trembling with a kind of swift enthusiasm, began to speak rapidly: “By God, Herr Jacoby, I am ready, I am really ready to compose something for you. You must sing it, you must dance it. It is the only thinkable climax of the party. You’ll see, you’ll see—it will be the best thing I’ve done or ever can do. In a baby-dress of red silk! Ah, your wife is an artist, an artist, I tell you, or she could never have hit upon this idea! Do say yes, I beg you, say you’ll agree! I’ll accomplish something, I’ll do something, you’ll see!”
This relieved the tension and everybody joined in. Either out of malice or out of politeness, all began to besiege the counsellor-at-law, and Frau Hildebrandt went so far as to say aloud, in her best Brünhilde voice: “Herr Jacoby, you are usually such a merry and entertaining man!” But the counsellor-at-law himself now found his tongue, and, still a trifle yellow, but with a great show of decisiveness, he declared: “Listen to me, ladies and gentlemen!—what shall I say to you? I’m not suited for it, believe me! I have almost no comic aptitude, and quite apart from that—in short, no, it is really impossible.”
He stubbornly persisted in this refusal, and as Amra took no more part in the conversation, and sat leaning back with a rather absent expression on her face, and as Herr Läutner did not speak another word, but fixedly contemplated an arabesque in the carpet, Herr Hildebrandt succeeded in giving another turn to the talk, and soon afterwards the company broke up, without having reached any decision on the last question.
On the evening of the same day, however, after Amra had gone to bed and lay there with open eyes, her husband came in with heavy tread, drew up a chair beside her bed, sat down, and said softly and hesitatingly: “Listen, Amra, to be quite open, I am worried by doubts. If I happened to be in any way disobliging to those ladies and gentlemen today, if I offended them—God knows it was not my intention! Or do you seriously believe—I beg you—”
Amra was silent for a moment, while her eyebrows slowly rose towards her forehead. She then shrugged her shoulders and said: “I don’t know what I should say, my dear man. You behaved as I should never have expected of you. You refused in discourteous terms to support the entertainment by your cooperation, which everybody considered necessary. That can be only flattering to you. To put it mildly, you disappointed everybody very much, and you have upset the whole party by your being so rude and disobliging, whereas it was your duty as host—”
The counsellor-at-law hung his head, and, breathing heavily, he said: “No, Amra. I really did not wish to be disobliging, believe me. I don’t want to offend anyone or displease anyone, and if I have acted unkindly, I am ready to make amends. It is only a lark, a bit of mummery, a harmless joke—why not? I don’t want to upset the party, I am ready—”
The following afternoon Amra drove out once again, to attend to some “shopping.” She stopped the carriage at No. 78 in the Holzstrasse and went up to the second story, where someone was waiting for her. And as she lay there, abandoned to love, and pressed his head to her breast, she whispered passionately: “Compose it for four hands, do you hear? We will accompany him together while he sings and dances. I, I will attend to the costume—”
And a strange thrill, a suppressed and convulsive laughter, shot through the bodies of both.
To all those who wish to give a party, an alfresco entertainment on a large scale, it is strongly recommended to look up the establishment of Herr Wendelin on the Lerchenberg. You leave the pretty suburban street and pass through a high gateway into a parklike garden, belonging to the establishment. The spacious festal hall stands in the centre of this park. This hall, which is connected by a narrow passage with the restaurant, the kitchen, and the brewery, is built of wood, gaily painted in a droll mixture of Chinese and Renaissance styles. There are two wide swing-doors, which can be left open in fair weather, so as to admit the breath of the trees. The hall is capable of holding a great many people.
Tonight the carriages, as they came rolling on, were greeted even from afar by a glow of coloured light, for the entire enclosure, the trees of the garden, and the hall itself were decorated with coloured lanterns in close rows. And as to the inside of the hall itself, this offered a really delightful spectacle. Thick garlands were festooned across the ceiling, and to these in turn still more paper lanterns were fastened, though a great number of electric bulbs gleamed forth between the decorations of the walls, which consisted of flags, greenery, and artificial flowers,
