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and Sieglinde love, Dearest, is it not? But he loves me. Don't be cross to him for loving me. He can't help it. And he says we must all live together, if--" ... The singer closed her eyes and the corners of her mouth became tense. Then she looked at her daughter almost fiercely. Hilda was terrified. "Tell me, Hilda, swear to me, and think of what you are saying: Do you love Albert?" "With my heart," answered the girl in all her white simplicities. Her mother laughed and arose. "Then you silly little goose, you shall marry him and be nice and unhappy." Hilda cried with joy: "I don't care if I am unhappy with _him_." "Idiot!" replied the other. That night "Goetterdaemmerung" was given. The conductor dragged the tempi; the waits were interminable, and a young slip of a girl wonderingly watched. Her mother was the Brynhild. The performance was redeemed by the magnificent singing of the Immolation scene.... Later Brynhild faced her mirror and asked no favor of it. As she uncoiled the heavy ropes of hair her eyes grew harsh, and for a moment her image seemed blurred and bitter in the oval glass with the burnished frame that stood upon the dressing-table. But at last she would achieve the unique Brynhild!... "Entbehren sollst du, sollst entbehren." THE QUEST OF THE ELUSIVE _To Miss Bella Seymour_ BALAK, _November 5_. DEAR DARLING OLD BELLA,--How I wish you were with me. I miss you almost as much as mamma and the girls. I've had such a homesickness that even the elegant concerts, the gay city and the novelty of this out of the way foreign place do not compensate, for Why, oh _why_, doesn't Herr Klug live in Berlin or Paris, or even Vienna? Think, after you leave Vienna you must travel six hours by boat and three by rail before you reach Balak, but what a city, what curious houses, and what an opera house! Let me first tell you of my experiences with Herr Klug. I met the Ransoms; you remember those queer Michigan avenue people. They are here with their mother--snuffy Mother Ransom we used to call her--and are both studying with Herr Klug. I met them on the Ringstrasse--the principal avenue here--and they looked so dissatisfied when they saw me. Ada, the short, thin one, you know--well, she lowered her parasol--say, the weather is awful hot--and, honest, I believed she wasn't going to speak to me. But Lizzie is the nice one, and she fairly ate me up. They raved about Herr Klug. He is so
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