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Authors: Mary Jane Staples
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evening away, all of them. The Dianabad, where ‘The Blue Danube’ had first been played, gathered them into itsmelodious and infectious embrace and poured them finally into the clear, cooling atmosphere of the summer night.
Carl drove the Benz home. Sophie sat between him and James. Before he was dropped off at the school James said to her, ‘Sophie, if someone told you that a good archduke is a dead one, what would you think?’
‘I’d think I was listening to an anarchist,’ said Sophie, ‘or to someone who really meant it’s a bad archduke who’s better dead. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, just curiosity.’
Chapter Four
Night after night the Benz carried the six of them into the brightly lit playground of Vienna. They dined, they danced. James spent precious capital. No one ever asked about money, who would pay or who could not.
They went to see
The Merry Widow
. Anne said they must take James to that. It was traditional. She had seen it often but would always see it again. Sophie had seen it twice and said she really preferred Rossini. James had not seen it at all but said he quite liked Gilbert and Sullivan.
‘Who,’ said Sophie in demurest tones, ‘are Gilbert and Sullivan?’
‘I think they move furniture,’ said Carl.
‘You’re all infidels,’ said James.
And they went another night to Grinzing, the garden village on the outskirts of Vienna, where people from all stratas of society met on equal terms. The air was warm and sweet, Grinzing itself so picturesque that James wished he had brought his sketchbook. The place was famous for its arboured wine gardens, wherein the music of zithers and harmonicas encouraged thewining and dining patrons into singing as well. The clear evening turned into fairyland night.
‘Hans Andersen slept here, I presume,’ said James.
‘Did he? I’ve never heard,’ said Ludwig.
‘If he didn’t,’ said James, ‘he missed a large slice of magic.’
‘I don’t think the magic is just Grinzing tonight,’ said Sophie.
‘No, indeed,’ said Anne.
Helene and Carl were singing. Ludwig was looking at Anne. Sophie was looking at James. The wine was putting dreaminess into her eyes.
‘It’s Grinzing, the night and my friends,’ said James.
‘Ah,’ said Sophie to Anne, ‘he did not take too long to catch on.’
‘It must be obvious, even to James, that we are rather special,’ said Anne. ‘I am almost matchless.’
‘I am matchless without qualification,’ said Sophie.
‘You’re both nicely mellow,’ said James.
‘He’s not terribly trustworthy with his compliments, is he?’ said Anne. ‘James,’ she said, ‘will you come to Ilidze with us? We are going in a week or so and you would love it there.’
‘I am asked myself,’ said Ludwig, ‘but can’t get there until the beginning of July. You must go and keep them in order, James. They run about wildly in Bosnia.’
‘I appreciate the invitation very much,’ said James, ‘but there’s the school. The term doesn’tclose until late July. I’m committed until then, do you see?’
Sophie, who had been thinking about asking her parents to invite James, felt a little twinge of disappointment. She also felt slightly disgusted with herself for not having had the sense to realize his teaching post meant he would not be free to join them, anyway.
Anne said, ‘Oh, but you must come, James, you must talk to Frau Harrison.’
‘Anne, he can’t do that,’ said Sophie.
‘Can’t you, James?’ said Anne.
‘Not really,’ said James, and Sophie thought that while the rest of them sailed blithely through the summer days he alone had been making a worthwhile contribution to life in his teaching of children. Compared with James, she thought, I’m not much more than a butterfly. Perhaps that is what he thinks I am. Perhaps that is what he thinks Anne is. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t take either of us seriously. ‘All the same,’ she heard him saying, ‘it’s nice to know I was
Carl drove the Benz home. Sophie sat between him and James. Before he was dropped off at the school James said to her, ‘Sophie, if someone told you that a good archduke is a dead one, what would you think?’
‘I’d think I was listening to an anarchist,’ said Sophie, ‘or to someone who really meant it’s a bad archduke who’s better dead. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, just curiosity.’
Chapter Four
Night after night the Benz carried the six of them into the brightly lit playground of Vienna. They dined, they danced. James spent precious capital. No one ever asked about money, who would pay or who could not.
They went to see
The Merry Widow
. Anne said they must take James to that. It was traditional. She had seen it often but would always see it again. Sophie had seen it twice and said she really preferred Rossini. James had not seen it at all but said he quite liked Gilbert and Sullivan.
‘Who,’ said Sophie in demurest tones, ‘are Gilbert and Sullivan?’
‘I think they move furniture,’ said Carl.
‘You’re all infidels,’ said James.
And they went another night to Grinzing, the garden village on the outskirts of Vienna, where people from all stratas of society met on equal terms. The air was warm and sweet, Grinzing itself so picturesque that James wished he had brought his sketchbook. The place was famous for its arboured wine gardens, wherein the music of zithers and harmonicas encouraged thewining and dining patrons into singing as well. The clear evening turned into fairyland night.
‘Hans Andersen slept here, I presume,’ said James.
‘Did he? I’ve never heard,’ said Ludwig.
‘If he didn’t,’ said James, ‘he missed a large slice of magic.’
‘I don’t think the magic is just Grinzing tonight,’ said Sophie.
‘No, indeed,’ said Anne.
Helene and Carl were singing. Ludwig was looking at Anne. Sophie was looking at James. The wine was putting dreaminess into her eyes.
‘It’s Grinzing, the night and my friends,’ said James.
‘Ah,’ said Sophie to Anne, ‘he did not take too long to catch on.’
‘It must be obvious, even to James, that we are rather special,’ said Anne. ‘I am almost matchless.’
‘I am matchless without qualification,’ said Sophie.
‘You’re both nicely mellow,’ said James.
‘He’s not terribly trustworthy with his compliments, is he?’ said Anne. ‘James,’ she said, ‘will you come to Ilidze with us? We are going in a week or so and you would love it there.’
‘I am asked myself,’ said Ludwig, ‘but can’t get there until the beginning of July. You must go and keep them in order, James. They run about wildly in Bosnia.’
‘I appreciate the invitation very much,’ said James, ‘but there’s the school. The term doesn’tclose until late July. I’m committed until then, do you see?’
Sophie, who had been thinking about asking her parents to invite James, felt a little twinge of disappointment. She also felt slightly disgusted with herself for not having had the sense to realize his teaching post meant he would not be free to join them, anyway.
Anne said, ‘Oh, but you must come, James, you must talk to Frau Harrison.’
‘Anne, he can’t do that,’ said Sophie.
‘Can’t you, James?’ said Anne.
‘Not really,’ said James, and Sophie thought that while the rest of them sailed blithely through the summer days he alone had been making a worthwhile contribution to life in his teaching of children. Compared with James, she thought, I’m not much more than a butterfly. Perhaps that is what he thinks I am. Perhaps that is what he thinks Anne is. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t take either of us seriously. ‘All the same,’ she heard him saying, ‘it’s nice to know I was
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