Part two of a selection from the
original, unpublished manuscript.

Summer came. Aloysia was given even bigger parts. She practiced hard, but nothing conquered her stage fright. No matter how confident she was at rehearsal, she suffered terribly before each performance. In spite of her nerves, (or maybe because of them), by the time she stood in front of an audience she sang with an emotional force which everyone agreed was remarkable for such a young singer.   We knew how good she was,

because Papa proudly took us to hear her in every new part. Never in a hundred years would you connect that commanding performer with our sister - the girl who, that very afternoon, had been throwing up her fear into the wash basin.

      The presents her admirers sent were a far cry from last year's trinkets. The most incredible gift, sent anonymously, was an expensive silk dress and matching hat.

      "The generous gentleman is married, no doubt," Papa growled. But what could he do? Aloysia was already parading around the parlor in the new dress.

      He was unsettled by Aloysia's success. In the last few months, her salary had outstripped his. While the money was welcome, Papa was sure that there would be strings attached.

      Then, very late one warm, fragrant night, Sophie and I were awakened by a huge commotion in the hallway.

      "Fridolin! Fridolin! Calm down!"

      "Calm down? Calm down? By God, I will not!"

      "Ow! Don't, Papa! Ow! Ow!"

      At the sound of slaps, Sophie and I sat bolt upright.

      "Wait here," I hissed.

      There was a rosy light behind the shutters. The birds who made their home on the ivied walls outside were sleepily muttering to themselves. Slipping out of the bed my sister and I shared, I crossed the room and boldly opened the door.

      There stood Mama and Papa in their raggedy nightjackets. Aloysia must have just come home; she was still in her silver Court dress.

      "Konstanze Marie, you get back to bed right now!" Mama gestured frantically, shooing me.

      "No!" Papa bellowed so loudly that I froze in my tracks. "I think she should take a good look at her sister - the girl who was too proud to accept an honest proposal of marriage!"

      He seized Aloysia by the back of the neck and gave her a rough shove in my direction - an action with predictable consequences. Laced into her stays, with a whalebone rod that ran from breastbone to navel, Aloysia couldn't bend. Once she lost her balance, she had to fall.

      Shrieking, my sister tottered and went crashing down, landing on her forearms. It must have hurt terribly, because she made no move to get up, just lay there in front of me and burst into terrible sobs.

      "Fridolin! For God's sake!," Mama cried, rushing to crouch beside Aloysia. "Leave her alone, you idiot! Just for once can't you use your head? She's only done what she had to. Hadik will be generous - he always is!"

      Papa swayed, choked. For a moment I thought he was going to vomit.

      "My precious girl! My precious girl!" To my horror, Papa began to sob too. "Why, she's nothing now - nothing but a rich man's whore!­ Like a dog throwing off water, Papa shook himself. "Oh God!" he howled. "The very last shred of my honor!"

      He turned, hurled the door open, and thundered away down the stairs.

      The entire building, I sensed, was full of ears. My sister lay at my feet, wailing and cradling her head. A river of tears completed the ruin of her face, coursing through the blue-white powder and turning the beauty mark on her cheek into a long black smear. Half buried in a pile of silk and lace, she resembled nothing so much as a large, abandoned doll.

      I tried to feel shocked, but I couldn't. I wasn't supposed to know about these things worked yet, but I had ears, after all. All Mannheim knew that the two reigning sopranos, Frau Wendling and her handsome daughter, had slept with every influential man at Court up to and including the Elector.

      We made a bath that morning, especially for Aloysia. Mama tended her gently, squeezing water over her shoulders and keeping up a stream of sympathetic chatter.

      "My poor little girl! Mama's not angry. She knows the wicked man forced you."

      When she said that, Aloysia started to cry again, her thin shoulders shaking. As if to wash something away, she splashed her face with water over and over again.

      "Hold your head high, darling. Papa is upset, but in the end it will turn out all right. He's bound to take it hard, but don't you worry. I'll handle him. You must forgive Papa."

      Aloysia looked curiously fragile, slumped in the tub. There were big black shadows under her eyes. I'll never forget that morning; it was the very first time I ever felt sorry for her.

      Days passed before Papa spoke to Aloysia, but at last they made up, weeping, kissing, and hugging. Sophie and I joined them. We hoped that Papa wouldn't be so sad and angry all the time, that things could go back to the way they'd been before.

      Of course, that wasn't to be. The first change was unrelated to our particular family tempest, but it was momentous anyhow. Our Elector had recently succeeded to another Electorate, the Electorate of Bavaria. Now, as a prince with two kingdoms, he decided that he'd like to rule from the more prestigious Bavarian capital, Munich. His Court and all his servants would simply have to follow him. As soon as the word went out, everyone began to pack.

      Ordinarily, moving would have been a terrible hardship for us, but now with Hadik's "protection", it was easy. On the same day as her surrender, an official had arrived with a signed, sealed appointment to the opera for Fraulein Aloysia Weber at the astonishing salary of one thousand florins a year.

      A thousand florins for a semi-trained, seventeen-year old singer! Everyone knew quite well how such positions were obtained. Some of the women snubbed Mama. Papa was in hell at work.

      Still, if things were sometimes painful, Hadik showered us with favors. He sent a maid for Aloysia, and, for the sake of outward propriety, he also dispatched a distant kinswoman of his, Widow Marmontel, to be Aloysia's companion when she went between the opera house and his residence.

Widow Marmontel had a history that wasn't unusual among aristocratic gentlewomen. Her fortune had been wasted by her husband, a Frenchman who'd loved to gamble. After his death, poverty had sent her to live with her cousin, Hadik. Having spent most of her adult life in the corruption of Versailles, she found the task her kinsman set her - watching over young mistresses - neither shocking nor uncongenial. Daily, we overheard her cheerfully chattering in French as she advised Aloysia on make-up, perfume, clothes and strategy.

      The mere sight of this woman, as you might imagine, enraged Papa. He always avoided her.

      We saw less and less of Aloysia. There were lessons and rehearsals, regular performances. She struggled bravely to learn and digest a huge mass of new operatic material. Besides this, there were parties, the social obligations of a mistress. All of it conspired to keep her out of the house from early morning until late at night.

      It was awhile before we girls heard about her first night with Hadik. Initially, perhaps at Mama's request, or simply because she was embarrassed, she kept her distance from Jo and me. Still, such reserve couldn't last long. What seventeen year old could resist telling a tale in which she played a leading role?

      We weren't absolutely ignorant, of course. Our maid, Marie, had told us quite a bit. Marie's story sounded exciting until she got to the part where her husband had held his hand over her mouth so that her cries wouldn't amuse the wedding party. Our jaws had dropped in dismay, but Marie had proudly explained that it was her man's size that had caused the initial difficulty. Now, she assured us, what Mama primly termed a "wife's duty" was "the only ecstasy this side of heaven."

      Such lyricism from a servant! Well, I was aware of the presence of a certain pleasure spot hidden between my legs, but I didn't understand how anyone could enjoy the rough invasion Marie had described.

      We heard Aloysia's story one night when Jo and I had come to her room late, after she'd returned from a party. She told us, I think, not only because she'd been drinking champagne, but also because for weeks she'd been dying to.

When Jo and I came in, she sent her maid off to bed - a gesture that clearly signaled a wish for some sisterly chat. Encouraged by this, Jo began to play the maid's part, getting the small scissors from the dresser and cutting the threads which held Aloysia's dress to the stays. While she was doing that, I busied myself unbuttoning, unlacing and hanging up. It really did take two people some time to extricate a lady from full Court dress.

When her stays were removed Aloysia stretched, arching her thin back in profound relief. I offered to help her undo her hair and give it a good brushing, a service she accepted at once. As soon as she sat down in front of her mirror, I started to remove the pins and extra switches of hair. Impatient of confinement, her thick chestnut curls quickly came tumbling down.       Ever so smoothly, Jo handed Aloysia a cup of chocolate. Our sister smiled, sipped, and said it was exactly what she needed. She was, she admitted, "a little high. Hadik always makes me drink too much champagne."

      As I brushed, Aloysia began to tell us the theater gossip. We had heard most of it, but we listened and made agreeable noises.

      Then, after a little prompting from Jo, Aloysia began to describe Count Hadik's private salon. The walls, she said, were covered with hunting trophies. It blazed with too many candles and was well stocked with sweets, fruit and wine. The Count always made her quite comfortable before he started.

      "I'm actually getting used to it," Aloysia giggled.

      Picturing Hadik bending over her, his leathery, well-preserved face threatening a kiss, I shivered. It was titillating and repellent, all at the same time.

      Then Aloysia surprised us with a confidence. "You know that gorgeous Karl Emil von Schfhautl?" We nodded. "Well, he passed me a love note tonight, right behind the Count's back." She stopped, closed her eyes, the better, perhaps, to meditate upon the broad shoulders of Karl Emil.

      "Aloysia," Jo said softly. "Tell us about what happened with Count Hadik. Is it really like Marie said?"

      The Count's good champagne aided us much as it had aided him earlier in the evening. Right away our ordinarily aloof sister invited us to get into bed with her. There she would whisper the whole story.

      Not wasting a moment, we followed, climbing under the covers on either side.

      "Promise you won't tell. Not Mama; not Marie; not anyone!"

      Jo slid an arm affectionately around her. "We promise! We swear! Isn't that right, Konstanze?"

      After I'd added my promise to Jo's, Aloysia, without much preamble, began. Typically, her memories were tied to the music she'd sung.

      "It was the night I sang the Gluck, the one with the high cadenza that I'd worked myself into such a state over - remember? Afterwards, I was exhausted. When the Count sent everyone away, I didn't know what to do. He was very pleasant, though, just complimenting me, making small talk and handing me glasses of champagne. I was so nervous that I drank them all. Pretty soon I felt faint."

      Pretending concern, Hadik had seated her on a huge ottoman covered with pillows. Widow Marmontel and a maid had been summoned. After some fuss, the Count had left the room while Aloysia was unlaced and helped out of her panniers and heavy dress.

      "The whole time Madame Marmontel kept telling me that it was all right; that I was quite safe. The lying old tart!" Aloysia smiled ruefully. "I was so tired and tipsy that all I wanted to do was to get out of my stays and lie down. Of course, after I'd slept for awhile on the ottoman, (all wrapped up in this wonderful silk morning gown they'd brought!) the Count came back."

      Aloysia paused and then said thoughtfully, "You know, Mama's right about one thing. Once a man like that, a man with experience, gets his hand between your legs, you're done for. He was never rough, but he was quite determined."

      A wry little smile, a smile of remembering, curved her pretty mouth. "Besides, whenever I said no, he just said that I was 'a wild songbird he simply must cage'. Afterwards, I cried oceans. I felt so wicked! Hadik was very kind then. He didn't call any servants; he actually helped me dress. He promised on his honor that I would never have any regrets. He even said I didn't have to go home, that he'd settle it with Papa, but I didn't want that. Papa only would have done something crazy and heaven knows what would have happened. . ."

      Then, finally, we heard what we were waiting for.

      "If you really want to know what it's like - without a lot of embroidery, I mean - well, the truth is that it's mostly wet and a nuisance!"

      Jo and I looked at each other in surprise. Somehow, from Aloysia, we'd expected more poetry.

~  ~  ~

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