In the despair of a frantic nightmare, his face streaming with
anguished tears, he forced his voice:--
_La, la, liriti! La, la, larita! Hallali!_ Then he awoke in triumph. Was
he not a yodler?
III
He told her of his dream and strange ambition. She did not discourage
him. It could be settled easily enough. Why not join the company and
take a few lessons? "With such a teacher?" he had exclaimed, and his
gesture was so impassioned that the promenaders, with their shining
morning goblets of water, were arrested by the spectacle. Wonderful,
wonderful Marienbad! was the general comment! But Krayne was past
ridicule. He already saw Roeselein his bride. He saw himself a yodler.
The cure? Ay, there was the rub. He laid bare his heart. She aided him
with her cool advice. She was very sensible. Her brother-in-law and her
sister would welcome him in their household, for he was a lover of music
and his intentions were honourable. Of course, he sighed, of course, and
fingered his red tie. Why not, she argued, remain at Marienbad for three
weeks more and complete his cure? Anyhow, he was not so stout! She
looked up at him archly.
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