After a while, an old man nudged him with the pole on which his newspaper was clamped. “Want to read this one?”
Hans shook his head. He could not see for tears.
“Ja, ja, son. I too come here for comfort. ‘The world is a wheel, and it will come round right.’ You’ll see.”
Chapter 15
SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT
While Hans was in the depths of despair, sitting among the tired old men in the library, Colonel Podhajsky was having a jolly visit with the Direktor of Vienna’s great Opera House. The two men were old friends. Each admired the other, and all Vienna admired them both.
After the handshaking and the first pleasantries were over the Direktor, a roly-poly man, lowered his weight carefully into one of the delicate baroque chairs. His steely eyes glinted and his tongue brushed his whiskers as if already he were tasting the success of his plan. “Alois,” he began familiarly, “it is June! A time for love and laughter, a time when tragic opera should give way to gaiety and happy endings. And so,” his shiny-pink face broke into a beatific smile, “we next play ‘The Girl of the Golden West.’ ”
“I know,” the Colonel nodded. “The American opera. We have tickets, my wife and I.”
“Good, good! Now comes the reason I am here.” The Direktor leaned forward until the fragile chair gave a squeak of protest. He went on, unmindful. “The beautiful Madame Jeritza will be the star.” Here he kissed his fingertips and blew the kiss heavenward. “And in the last scene she must sing her final aria while sitting on a motionless white horse.”
A smile played about the Colonel’s lips. He began to suspect what his visitor had in mind.
“Could it be . . .” the Direktor pulled out a snowy white handkerchief and blotted the beads of sweat on his forehead, “. . . that you would lend us your courbetteur, the one who can make so many jumps on his hind feet?”
The Colonel frowned ever so slightly. “Why Borina?”
“Because that fellow should be so tired by night he would stand still as a statue. You see, Alois, while Jeritza is an accomplished horsewoman, she forgets all else when she sings. It would be most embarrassing if, because of a nervous horse, she came a cropper before five galleries of her fans!”
The Colonel laughed heartily. Then his face grew serious. He walked thoughtfully over to the sofa and sat down next to his dachshund. His friend, the Herr Direktor, was asking a great deal. After all, Borina was a star in his own right. He was accustomed to order and routine. Besides, theaters were drafty places. Dangerous, too, with electric cords to stumble over, and people flying around waving scripts and moving scenery.
Herr Direktor wisely did not interrupt. Intently he watched the Colonel’s face.
“On the other hand,” the Colonel was thinking, “I never like to stand in the way of my children’s success. Borina has great histrionic ability.” Aloud he said, “Hmmmm. This could be a new star in his crown.”
The Direktor smacked his lips in glee.
“But,” the Colonel shook his head, “I have no extra hand to stay with him backstage, to watch over him like a mother, to keep him out of drafts . . .”
“Perhaps, Alois, all it needs is some trustworthy boy to lead him the short distance to the Opera House. As we are barely three hundred meters away, Borina would be in the streets for moments only. Another thing, Alois, offstage Madame Jeritza would devote herself wholly to him. She admires Lipizzaners so greatly.”
“Hmmmm,” the Colonel mused again, “I will have to consult with my stablemaster. He may know of someone.” The Colonel stood up abruptly. “You will hear from me in the morning.”
• • •
It was long past the evening meal when Hans finally went home from the library. His place was still set at the table and the lentil soup was being kept warm for him. Young Jacques greeted him excitedly, waving a square envelope which he had snatched from the table. “Look, Hans! Open it!”
Frau Haupt was excited too. “It came by special messenger!” She took the letter from Jacques and propped it against Hans’s napkin ring.
Hans’s eye caught his own name, and up in the corner the two words, Spanische Reitschule. His heart raced madly. Whatever the letter said, he wanted it all to himself. His mother read his mind. “Anna and Henri have gone to the Kino to see an American picture,” she said. “And Jacques is going to help me hang fresh clean curtains in both bedrooms. Come, Jacques, we go upstairs.”
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to!” The boy’s voice mounted as he was pulled up the stairway, then faded as a door clicked shut.
Hans reached for the letter. He opened the envelope and took out a sheet of white paper. In the moment of delay before he unfolded it, he breathed a prayer. Then alone in the glare of the naked electric bulb, he read the few lines, read them over again. They were not like typewritten words at all; he could hear the Colonel’s deep, vibrant voice saying them:
Dear Hans Haupt,
We have a temporary assignment which might interest you. That is, if you feel fully capable of walking Maestoso Borina to and from the Opera House for the duration of the forthcoming production.
The stallion is to be onstage a short time only but will need constant watchfulness. Rehearsals are to begin at once. Therefore, we must hear from you at once.
In view of the great responsibility which would be entrusted to you, we will require a letter of recommendation from a respected citizen of Vienna.
I remind you again that the assignment is temporary and of a very exacting nature.
It was signed with the beautiful flowing signature: Podhajsky.
For one alarming second Hans’s knees gave way. Then joy surged through him. He longed suddenly to share it. “Mamma! Jacques! Come!”
Jacques nearly fell down the stairs in his haste, and his grandmother was not far behind.
“Look!”
He held out the letter for them to read, to share in his glory.
Afterward he raced to the library. Who else but Fräulein Morgen should write the letter of recommendation?
Chapter 16
BORINA’S CUE
When Hans and Borina started out on their operatic career, it was as natural as two streams flowing together on their way to the sea. They formed an immediate partnership. Borina of course was senior partner, for he was much the older, but they both acted like a pair of boys off on a holiday. And indeed they were. Hans was graduated and out of school, and Borina was excused from morning sessions for the time being. So the world was all fresh and new for both of them.
Proudly that first morning Hans led his snow-white charge down the Josefsplatz, past the library, and to the Opera House. He felt they were in a world apart from ordinary citizens going about their ordinary duties. He wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if someone saw a golden halo above them as they marched down the cobbled square and around to the stage entrance of the Opera House.
Herr Direktor greeted them enthusiastically. “Good morning! You are Hans Haupt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And your stallion—I forget how he is called. I think of him only as the great courbetteur.”
Hans thrilled to the words “your stallion.”
“His name is Borina, sir.”
“On the program we will print his full name. You will carefully spell it out for me.” The Direktor produced a notebook from his pocket. He licked the point of his pencil, waiting.
“M-a-e-s-t-o-s-o B-o-r-i-n-a.”
In a flourishing hand the Direktor wrote down the name. “Now then, listen sharply. Borina plays in one scene only, but it is the grand climax of the whole opera.”
Hans’s eyes opened in astonishment. “The grand climax?”
The Herr Direktor nodded and resumed. “Riding Borina, Madame Jeritza enters the forest scene just in time to save Ramerrez from being strung up on a tree.”
“Sir, who is Ramerrez?”
“He is chief of the outlaws and he is in love with Jeritza. As h
is dying request he pleads to the hangmen, ‘Let my pure sweetheart never hear of my shameful death; let her believe I have fled to freedom.’ ”
“But does she save him, sir?”
“Of course. Thanks to Borina getting her there in the nick of time. Remember, Hans, when Ramerrez sings his last sustained note, that is Borina’s cue. I must warn you,” he added, with a waggle of his finger, “that the tenor, Ramerrez, is very temperamental. You must not cut off his song before he is through. Now we will rehearse.” And he led the way to the great stage.
After only a few rehearsals Borina knew his cue as well as any two-legged actor. Herr Direktor reported the news to Colonel Podhajsky.
“Why wouldn’t Borina perform well?” was the Colonel’s retort. “He has a fine ear for music! Has he not been dancing to the waltzes of Johann Strauss, and the minuets of Mozart and Beethoven, for years?”
At each rehearsal the routine was the same. Well in advance of Borina’s cue, Hans saddled him and gave Madame Jeritza a leg up. There she waited, refusing Hans’s offer to hold onto the bridle. At the exact moment when Ramerrez concluded his plea, Borina bore her onstage. Watching from the wings, Hans was in a delirium of pride and joy.
Both he and Borina fell in love with the opera and with their new friends. Sopranos and bassos, violinists and horn blowers, electricians and stagehands chatted with them, and often brought treats to Borina. But always they consulted with Hans first.
“Hans, can Borina eat an apple from my lunch?”
“Hans, would licorice upset his stomach?”
“Would he eat a slice of torte, Hans?”
Even the Herr Direktor when he brought tiny peppermints from home would ask, “Has Borina had too many sweets today?” And only with permission would he offer the treat.
Hans was flattered to be looked upon as a veterinarian. He was responsible for Borina’s health and safety, and everyone knew it.
Thus the first week of rehearsal went by in a routine of happiness. Hans walked his charge to and from the opera building each day, and he did a few stable duties at the Riding School. Often he found himself humming tunes from the opera as he worked. But he carefully avoided Borina’s cue song, of course. He knew he had never been so happy before.
In the second week Hans felt a pinprick of uneasiness. He noticed that Borina waited for his cue in such eagerness that when he went on, his flanks were slick with sweat. It was almost as if he were afraid Ramerrez might be hanged before he could get there. The nearer it came to opening night, the more eager he became. Each time he made his entrance a fraction of a second earlier, so that Ramerrez had to cut off his final note while he still had plenty of breath left. This made the man furious. He swore loud oaths in Italian. He even stopped bringing nougats to Borina.
At the dress rehearsal things took a catastrophic turn. Borina charged onstage two full measures ahead of time!
Ramerrez grew livid. The whole cast froze. A deathly silence closed around them. It was as if lightning had struck and everyone waited breathless for the thunder. It came in a crash. Herr Direktor banged his fist on the piano and made a hideous jangle of sound.
Into the sudden quiet that followed came the hail of rage: “Hans Haupt! Come out here!”
Like one hypnotized, Hans moved ever so slowly until he stood downstage.
“Me?” the small voice asked.
Now the barrage let loose. “What kind of groom are you! You are a know-nothing!” The Direktor clenched his fist, then rubbed it where it had hit the piano. “Tonight we open. The house is sold out. Do something!”
“Y-y-yes, sir,” a smaller voice said.
Hans quailed. A cold perspiration broke out all over his body. He was trying desperately to think, grabbing at straws of ideas. He whispered to Madame Jeritza, who was sitting rigid on Borina as if she were glued there, “Should I run back to the Riding School for a lunge-line so I can hold Borina from the wings?”
She shook her head vigorously. “The white strap would show.”
Hans was growing frantic. His whole future hung in the balance. Never again would he be trusted.
Suddenly his eye fixed on a strip of green carpet in the wings. It was used to deaden the sound of Borina’s hoofs backstage. Forgetting he was a stableboy, Hans yelled to a prop man who was perched on a ladder hanging leaves on the trees. “Can I have this piece of carpet?”
“Sure! I got more.”
His heart pounding, Hans quickly rolled up the carpet. “This will stop Borina, sir,” he explained. “I’ll lay it in his path all rolled up like this. Then tonight I won’t pull it aside until the very end of Ramerrez’ song.”
Herr Direktor spoke through tight lips. “See you don’t!” His tone was icy cold. “Colonel Podhajsky will be here tonight, and if you ruin my opera, he will be sorry he ever laid eyes on you.”
Chapter 17
SPECTACULAR ENTRANCE
It was five minutes before curtain time. Hans tiptoed onto the opening set. Through the peephole, his eye swept over the theater . . . the main floor, the three rows of boxes, the five galleries. He was hunting for one person—Colonel Alois Podhajsky. Hans had to make certain he was there. After the performance, he told himself, the Colonel will come backstage and he could say, “Hans Haupt, you have handled your assignment extremely well. When the opera closes I want you to stay on at the Reitschule and become a Riding Master. In fact, you may begin at once.”
Hans blinked. He was almost blinded by the dazzling lights and the glitter of gold, tier upon tier to the ceiling. Suddenly, as he looked, all heads began turning in one direction and white-gloved hands made a spatter of applause. The Colonel, handsome in black full dress and white tie, and his wife in furs and jewels were entering their box in the middle of the house. The Colonel bowed deeply, pleased and surprised at the ovation.
Just then the call boy shouted, “Curtain! Curtain!” In quick succession the house lights dimmed, the footlights came on. Hans flew into the wings, past the little groups of nervous actors, to Borina’s stall. He found the great placid creature eating hay, completely undisturbed by all the chaos. He seemed to know it would be a long time before Act III. He stopped eating a moment to smell noses with Hans, then stood quite still while Hans hand-rubbed his coat and combed the ivory mane and tail for the fifth time that day. Working eased Hans’s nervousness, and Borina responded with little grunts of contentment.
As the first act gained momentum, Hans found himself stroking in time to the music and humming along with Madame Jeritza as her clear soprano voice came floating back to them. Borina nodded and dozed until Ramerrez sang his first love song, but even then he showed no signs of excitability. By the burst of applause that followed Act I, Hans could tell it was a success.
Act II, however, seemed never-ending. Horse and boy began pacing up and down and around the stall, passing each other at every lap. All the while Borina’s ears were constantly at play, as if trying to pull out a melody meant for him alone.
It was a relief when stagehands began shifting scenery and Hans knew the second act was over. He brought out the Western saddle and the gem-studded bridle, and tonight he timed himself very carefully, allowing a full half hour before he saddled and bridled and led Borina into the wings. Maybe that had been the trouble before; they had always been too early and Borina had become over-eager with waiting.
The moment had come. It was time for Madame Jeritza to mount. Hans cupped his hands as a stepstool, and in one motion she swung gracefully into the saddle. She took the reins, settled herself securely, and nodded to Hans to place the rolled-up carpet in front of Borina. Then she leaned at the boy, giving him a dazzling, everything-will-be-all-right smile.
Hans returned the smile. He stepped aside, and with one eye on Borina he watched the action onstage. He saw the hangmen lower the noose, and he heard Ramerrez pour out his passionate plea, “Oh, let her believe I have fled to freedom.” Confident that tonight Borina would give him full time, the tenor’s voice rose
and swelled in a tumult of emotion. He sang more eloquently than Hans had ever heard him.
Just as his final note faded, and just as Hans was about to pull the carpet away, Borina rose up on his hind legs and stood almost perpendicular. Instinctively Jeritza grabbed his mane as the stallion leaped over the carpet and landed onstage in a perfect courbette.
The audience gasped at the sheer beauty and audacity, then broke into a thunder of applause and bravos. It was the most spectacular entrance of Jeritza’s career!
Without thinking, Hans bolted toward the stage to rescue her in case Borina should try another leap. But someone caught him by the seat of his pants and jerked him back into the wings.
In all the commotion, onstage and off, Borina was the only calm one. With great decorum he settled down on all four feet and stood motionless, waiting for his gentle rider to burst into song. With amazing self-possession, she did. Tremulously at first, then with growing ardor. She put into her aria such soul-stirring appeal that Hans closed his eyes, listening as if she were pleading his cause rather than the outlaw’s. He leaned against the wall, his heart bursting in misery. Now all was lost. The Herr Direktor would be quick to tell Colonel Podhajsky whose idea it was to roll up the carpet. His career as a Riding Master would be over before it began.
He heard the curtain going up and down while Madame Jeritza took her bows. In his anguish he mistook the crescendo of applause as an expression of sympathy and understanding. He felt a dull pain in his chest. His spirits had hit bottom.
Chapter 18
A NEW WORLD FOR HANS
It came as no shock when the stablemaster next morning told Hans he was wanted at once by Herr Hofrat in his office. A strange girl ushered him wordlessly down the stone passageway and into the beautiful reception room. She left him alone, except for the dachshund, who looked up with half an eye, then went on snoring, her head resting on the Colonel’s white gloves. Again she was a source of comfort. Hans longed to go over and touch her, but he restrained himself and sat down gingerly on one of the gilt chairs.
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