O Lord, Munich!"
He came across from the other side of the carriage and sat next Michael,
putting his feet up on the seat opposite.
"Talk of Munich," he said. "I was born in Munich, and I happen to know
that it's the heavenly Jerusalem, neither more nor less."
"Well, the heavenly Jerusalem is practically next door to Baireuth,"
said Michael.
"I know; but it can't be managed. However, there's a week of unalloyed
bliss between me now and the desolation of London in August. What is
so maddening is to think of all the people who could go to Munich and
don't."
Michael held debate within himself. He felt that he ought to tell his
new acquaintance that he knew who he was, that, however trivial their
conversation might be, it somehow resembled eavesdropping to talk to
a chance fellow-passenger as if he were a complete stranger. But it
required again a certain effort to make the announcement.
"I think I had better tell you," he said at length, "that I know you,
that I've listened to you at least, at your sister's recital a few days
ago."
Falbe turned to him with the friendliest pleasure.
"Ah! were you there?" he asked. "I hope you listened to her, then, not
to me. She sang well, didn't she?"
"But divinely.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101