The Devil's Opera(189)
* * *
Gustav pursed his lips and nodded. “If this is what an opera is, maybe I will come to more of them. The final music was a little harsh, though.”
“The up-time influence, I’m afraid,” Ulrik replied. “They tell me we will become accustomed to it.”
“I thought it was good,” Caroline Platzer replied from the row behind them. “Not that I’m a connoisseur of operas, you understand. They didn’t stage them in Grantville very often.” Her grin was sly enough that Ulrik knew she meant that the Grantvillers had never had one.
“Frau Linder,” Gustav mused, “she is like steel on the stage. Is she like that away from the stage, from the music?”
Ulrik pointed to Baldur to answer.
“From all accounts she is a very pleasant woman, but one with a very strong view of the world,” the Norwegian responded.
“Frau Caroline, do you know Frau Linder?” Gustav asked.
“Not well,” she replied. “I was an out-of-towner, not one of the Grantville natives. But I am acquainted with her, and certainly know of her. I would say that she’s not a tough broad—not a hard person—but she is a passionate person who will stand up for what she believes in.”
Gustav folded his hands together and tapped his lips with his forefingers several times. “We shall officially ignore the song on the radio and the records,” he said finally. “This is a woman who it is better to have as a friend than a foe. She could not have played that queen as she did if she is not capable of hardness. Let us not make her discover just how hard she can become.”
The emperor stood, stretched, and yawned. “Now, I believe I would like to return to the palace and rest. You,” he pointed to one of the Marine guards standing in the rear of the box, “go tell the driver to warm up the car.” As that worthy almost leapt out the door, Gustav turned back to the family group. “But tomorrow—do we have a Trommler record player in the palace?”
Caroline looked up from where she was trying to get Kristina to wake up enough to walk. “I believe so, in the great room with the piano.”
“Good. I believe that I would like to hear Frau Marla’s infamous song for myself. Do any of you own the record?”
No one spoke for a moment, then Baldur cleared his throat. Ulrik looked at him in surprise. “I wouldn’t have thought that of you, Baldur.”
Baldur shrugged. “I’ve heard her sing before. I like her voice.” He grinned. “Besides, it’s a first pressing copy of the record. In a few years, it will be worth a small fortune.”
They gathered their coats and other paraphernalia. Baldur finished off a couple of near-empty wine bottles.
“Frau Caroline?” Gustav said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please arrange with the palace staff to have the major figures in this opera invited to the palace.”
“Can do, sir.”
* * *
Gotthilf dismounted from the police department carriage, joining Byron and Karl Honister at the bottom of the front steps of the opera building.
“Kid delivered safe and sound?”
“Yah. Turned him over to my mother and Pastor Gruber. Between them, they’ll take care of him.”
Gotthilf looked at the other two men. “Well, what are we waiting for? I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get some sleep sometime tonight.”
Byron shrugged. “Let’s do it.”
They started up the steps together.
* * *
Franz stepped backstage into a scene of almost riotous celebration. Three different less-than-delicate drinking songs were being sung by different groups of the cast. Dieter had donned Nimue’s blond wig, and was singing part of Nimue’s victory song in a falsetto that was so high it was almost painful. It didn’t help any that he was intentionally missing pitches and slurring words.
Marla was laughing, but she was wincing as well. She saw Franz standing and grinning at her, and she flew to him, producing an “Oof!” when she made contact and threw her arms around him. She was still wearing her final costume with the tin armor, and it was not very forgiving.
Franz returned the embrace, and they stood there like that for a long while, oblivious to all the pandemonium occurring around them. Finally, he broke the hold and held her shoulders, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“Mad all gone?” he asked with a small smile.
“Yep.” She grinned back. “Not that I wouldn’t mind a little time to kick Herr Schardius where it would hurt the most a time or three.” She looked around. “Speaking of that snake, I wonder what happened to him.”