Katherina’s coffee. Was it flirtation or just silliness, Katherina wondered as she lifted the cup to her lips. Whichever it was, the over sweetened coffee was, in fact, delicious.
XIII
Duetto
“Er kommt! Er Kommt!” On the upper floor of the stage set, the maidservant sang as she ran from window to window, describing the street, the gathering crowd, the ornate carriage, and every movement of the arriving cavalier.
Below, on the main stage, Katherina gathered the crinoline of her Sophie costume and turned in circles of girlish joy.
Then the double doors flew open. Two lines of Hussars entered, with high fur hats and pale green, fur-trimmed jackets hung on one shoulder. Scimitars swung from their sides and elaborately ornamented white boots rose to their knees. They stood at attention, forming a phalanx on each side of the open doorway.
A fanfare sounded, and the rose cavalier appeared. Abruptly, the orchestra dropped away, leaving only the violins on a high, sustained tone, full of suspense.
Octavian glittered like an ice sculpture at the center-rear of the stage. His left hand rested at his waist on the bejeweled hilt of a ceremonial dagger, and his right hand, raised slightly above his head, held the silver rose. His immaculate white satin knee pants and rhinestone-studded jacket caught the various spotlights and he sparkled.
He began hesitantly, “I have the honor…most noble lady…” and stepped slowly with lowered eyes toward the waiting Sophie. Little by little he neared her. At the words “this rose” he bowed from the waist and, keeping his eyes averted, held out the silver flower.
With measured hesitation, Katherina took the rose, touched it to her nose, and sang her reply to the silver-white top of Octavian’s head. “It has a strong fragrance, like living roses.”
“Yes, a drop of Persian rose oil is on it,” he sang, and the lovely head rose slowly, mist-gray eyes capturing her.
For an instant, Katherina felt as if the ground had dropped away and she was suspended, held in place by Anastasia’s eyes. Sensing the rose slip through her fingers, she tightened her grip and sang, “It pulls me, as if chords were around my heart.”
They sang together to the thrilling climax of the duet, then moved downstage for the sweet dialog in which she sang his baptismal names to him: “Octavian, Maria Ehrenreich, Bonaventura, Ferdinand, Hyacinth.”
How delicious it was to play at falling in love with Octavian, letting her Sophie character ramble on while the glittering rose cavalier sang back, “My God, how lovely she is.” That they were on a brightly lit stage in front of press and dress rehearsal invitees did not dilute the thrill of playing at romance.
Anastasia sang with the full conviction of a young man falling in love, looking directly at her and then away, as if caught in too great an intimacy. Then she faded back, stage left, to allow the husband-to-be to ply his troth. Hans von Stintzing played the boorish Baron Ochs with gusto, and his hands were all over her.
Then Octavian was at Katherina’s side again, and the satin-clad arms held her for their next duet as they looked into each other’s eyes. Their vocal lines interwove, tone for tone, the brief dissonances resolving into thirds, their two agile voices in tense and thrilling interplay. “Your eyes, your noble air…I know nothing more of myself, only you. Oh, stay with me, stay by my side.” Katherina had never sung a love duet with a woman before and was unprepared for the effect it had on her.
Then the Baron returned for the duel, which Hans had finally learned. Baron Ochs was made for him and he milked every drop of humor from the scene. At exactly the right moment, Octavian administered the wounding prick and Ochs collapsed. “Mur-der! Mur-der!” he called out, and was carried away, singing of martyrdom and the need for a nice aged Tokay.
Finally the dress rehearsal was over. Bone weary, Katherina slipped out of her
XIII
Duetto
“Er kommt! Er Kommt!” On the upper floor of the stage set, the maidservant sang as she ran from window to window, describing the street, the gathering crowd, the ornate carriage, and every movement of the arriving cavalier.
Below, on the main stage, Katherina gathered the crinoline of her Sophie costume and turned in circles of girlish joy.
Then the double doors flew open. Two lines of Hussars entered, with high fur hats and pale green, fur-trimmed jackets hung on one shoulder. Scimitars swung from their sides and elaborately ornamented white boots rose to their knees. They stood at attention, forming a phalanx on each side of the open doorway.
A fanfare sounded, and the rose cavalier appeared. Abruptly, the orchestra dropped away, leaving only the violins on a high, sustained tone, full of suspense.
Octavian glittered like an ice sculpture at the center-rear of the stage. His left hand rested at his waist on the bejeweled hilt of a ceremonial dagger, and his right hand, raised slightly above his head, held the silver rose. His immaculate white satin knee pants and rhinestone-studded jacket caught the various spotlights and he sparkled.
He began hesitantly, “I have the honor…most noble lady…” and stepped slowly with lowered eyes toward the waiting Sophie. Little by little he neared her. At the words “this rose” he bowed from the waist and, keeping his eyes averted, held out the silver flower.
With measured hesitation, Katherina took the rose, touched it to her nose, and sang her reply to the silver-white top of Octavian’s head. “It has a strong fragrance, like living roses.”
“Yes, a drop of Persian rose oil is on it,” he sang, and the lovely head rose slowly, mist-gray eyes capturing her.
For an instant, Katherina felt as if the ground had dropped away and she was suspended, held in place by Anastasia’s eyes. Sensing the rose slip through her fingers, she tightened her grip and sang, “It pulls me, as if chords were around my heart.”
They sang together to the thrilling climax of the duet, then moved downstage for the sweet dialog in which she sang his baptismal names to him: “Octavian, Maria Ehrenreich, Bonaventura, Ferdinand, Hyacinth.”
How delicious it was to play at falling in love with Octavian, letting her Sophie character ramble on while the glittering rose cavalier sang back, “My God, how lovely she is.” That they were on a brightly lit stage in front of press and dress rehearsal invitees did not dilute the thrill of playing at romance.
Anastasia sang with the full conviction of a young man falling in love, looking directly at her and then away, as if caught in too great an intimacy. Then she faded back, stage left, to allow the husband-to-be to ply his troth. Hans von Stintzing played the boorish Baron Ochs with gusto, and his hands were all over her.
Then Octavian was at Katherina’s side again, and the satin-clad arms held her for their next duet as they looked into each other’s eyes. Their vocal lines interwove, tone for tone, the brief dissonances resolving into thirds, their two agile voices in tense and thrilling interplay. “Your eyes, your noble air…I know nothing more of myself, only you. Oh, stay with me, stay by my side.” Katherina had never sung a love duet with a woman before and was unprepared for the effect it had on her.
Then the Baron returned for the duel, which Hans had finally learned. Baron Ochs was made for him and he milked every drop of humor from the scene. At exactly the right moment, Octavian administered the wounding prick and Ochs collapsed. “Mur-der! Mur-der!” he called out, and was carried away, singing of martyrdom and the need for a nice aged Tokay.
Finally the dress rehearsal was over. Bone weary, Katherina slipped out of her
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