Page:Willa Cather - The Song of the Lark.djvu/463

 me. I suppose it depends somewhat on how things go Friday afternoon."

"Oh, they 'll go fast enough! That 's better suited to your voice than anything you 've sung here. That gives you every opportunity I 've waited for." Ottenburg crossed the room and standing beside her began to play "Du bist der Lenz."

With a violent movement Thea caught his wrists and pushed his hands away from the keys.

"Fred, can't you be serious? A thousand things may happen between this and Friday to put me out. Something will happen. If that part were sung well, as well as it ought to be, it would be one of the most beautiful things in the world. That 's why it never is sung right, and never will be." She clenched her hands and opened them despairingly, looking out of the open window. "It 's inaccessibly beautiful!" she brought out sharply.

Fred and Dr. Archie watched her. In a moment she turned back to them. "It 's impossible to sing a part like that well for the first time, except for the sort who will never sing it any better. Everything hangs on that first night, and that 's bound to be bad. There you are," she shrugged impatiently. "For one thing, they change the cast at the eleventh hour and then rehearse the life out of me."

Ottenburg put down his cup with exaggerated care. "Still, you really want to do it, you know."

"Want to?" she repeated indignantly; "of course I want to! If this were only next Thursday night—But between now and Friday I 'll do nothing but fret away my strength. Oh, I 'm not saying I don't need the rehearsals! But I don't need them strung out through a week. That system 's well enough for phlegmatic singers; it only drains me. Every single feature of operatic routine is detrimental to me. I usually go on like a horse that's been fixed to lose a race. I have to work hard to do my worst,