V Carmina Burana—Vivace

Joachim von Hausen was rehearsing the chorus and the pas de deux of the dancers when Katherina arrived at the stage entrance. He was slight of build, but the energy of his person and his stature in the music world lent him height. She had taken to him immediately at the first rehearsal.

From the stage-left wings, she watched admiringly as the two lead dancers executed their most strenuous leaps. Carlo’s tight musculature, vaguely Greek features, and long wavy hair made him the object of nearly everyone’s desire. And the press adored him. Sabine, who partnered him, was just as striking, even in rehearsal, when she left her mane of red hair loose. As she leapt and spun, it flew around her like a flame in a breeze.

Part of the dance brought her sweeping far stage left. Scarcely a meter away, Katherina could see every taut muscle in the dancer’s body. Unlike the other ballerinas, Sabine had visible breasts, and as she arched her back they swelled provocatively under her leotard. She curled forward, then straightened and danced in open-armed pirouettes back toward her partner.

“Nice, huh? ” someone said at Katherina’s elbow.

“What? Oh, Ulrich. I didn’t hear you arrive. Which of them are you admiring, Carlo or Sabine? ” she teased the baritone.

“Our lovely ballerina, of course. I wouldn’t mind having a go at her. With muscles like that, it’d be like screwing a leopard. I’ve heard they call her the ‘man-eater. ’”

“It could also just be one of your lust fantasies. ”

“For sure, it’s that too. ” He smirked as he moved away.

“You and every male in the chorus, ” she called after him. Suddenly she was not sure she had brought her score. She knelt down and fumbled through her shoulder bag until she found the stapled pages. Relieved, she stood up again and found herself face to face with Sabine, panting from her last pirouette. Droplets of moisture dotted her forehead and upper lip, and she tugged at the cloth of her sweat-damp leotard.

“Hello, ” the dancer said, between breaths. Then she stepped back for a moment and scrutinized Katherina, as if appraising her.

Katherina tried to think of something clever to say, but at that moment the conductor called her onto the stage for her solo.

Ulrich glanced at his watch. “I think we were terrific today, and look, it’s only five o’clock. Anyone interested in a beer and sausage across the street? I’ll pay. ” His invitation was loud enough for all to hear, but it seemed to Katherina that he intended it primarily for Sabine.

In fact, she accepted, along with a handful of others. “You’re joining us too, aren’t you? ” Sabine caught her eye.

Katherina thought of what awaited her at home. Nothing awaited her. “Sure, why not? ”

“Let’s go then. ” Ulrich threw a quick “See, I told you” glance toward Katherina, then helped Sabine on with her coat. In a moment, everyone was gathered and he herded the cluster of his new friends through the door.

The group migrated across the street to the Café zum Engel, and Katherina fell in step with Dieter. The tenor was a short amiable man with chipmunk cheeks, who, in spite of his youth, was already losing his hair. His equally amiable and colorless girlfriend was on his other arm.

They arranged themselves around the large common table. Ulrich was quick to help Sabine off with the coat he had just put on her. She smiled prettily at her unsubtle suitor and sat down between him and Katherina.

“I just adore Carmina Burana, ” one of the other dancers said as the beer and sausage orders went out.

Ulrich laughed. “Of course you do. It’s work for dancers, right? Besides, nobody doesn’t like Carmina Burana. It’s the rock-and-roll of classical music. You’ll see. The audience will go nuts for it. ”

“I wish the public would go nuts for opera. That would give us more work, ” Dieter added. “Sometimes I think it’s just a matter of getting people into the opera house. Once they’ve heard it, they love it, but how do you lure them there in the first place? ”

One of the dancers said, “You should give them prizes the first time they come. ”

“You mean souvenirs? Like a Desdemona handkerchief or a Tosca fruit knife? ” Katherina laughed.

“Well, there could be a whole subcategory of knives. ” Ulrich warmed to the subject. “The Madame Butterfly dagger, and the Carmen pocket knife—sort of a Swiss Army knife thing, but Spanish—and then a Rigoletto knife. ”

“No, for Rigoletto they really ought to have a souvenir sack. ” Dieter’s girlfriend joined in. “Like the one he carries his dead daughter around in for two days before she sings her aria. ”

Sabine leaned onto the table. “How about a line of clothing? A Lucia di Lammermoor nightgown, complete with bloodstains, a Pagliacci giubba. ”

“What’s a giubba? ” a dancer asked.

“It’s that big clown shirt with pom poms that Pagliacci wears. ”

“Okay, a Pagliacci giubba. ” Dieter pretended to be writing a list with his finger on the tablecloth. “And a Don Giovanni address book. Organized by country. With extra pages for Spain. ” He paused. “What about Fidelio chains? ”

The beer pitcher arrived and Ulrich poured a round of glasses. “Who’s going to want chains, for god’s sake? ”

“Well, who’s going to want a giubba? ” Katherina laughed.

“Good point, ” Ulrich conceded. “Ah, I’ve got one. You want something practical? How about a Salome serving platter? ”

“You mean like the one that holds the head of John the Baptist? ” Dieter asked.

“That’s disgusting. ” Katherina feigned horror. Suddenly she became aware of pressure against her left leg. She moved a millimeter away, but Sabine’s leg followed.

Katherina was confused. What did it mean? She moved away a second time, but the touch was there again a moment later. Above the table too, Sabine’s well-muscled upper arm brushed against her. Was she simply trying to get Katherina’s attention?

Katherina leaned toward the arm and spoke quietly under the din of the group laughter. “Is there something you want to say to me? ”

Sabine pressed closer in response, but was silent. Katherina could smell her perfume. Then Sabine whispered, “I saw the way you looked at me. The way you’ve been looking at me. ”

“I don’t know what you mean. ” Katherina’s throat was tight.

Ulrich made some bawdy remark about dancers’ derrieres, and the group burst into laughter again. Sabine said under her breath, “Do you want to see more? ”

Someone held the pitcher over Katherina’s glass and she raised her hand to signal no. Her heart was pounding. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, ” she whispered. Her left leg where Sabine’s knee was pressed against it began to tremble. The sudden tightness in her sex was unwelcome, frightening.

“Of course you do. I know you. You’re just like me. ”

Katherina slid her chair away from the table so suddenly that the table shook. The laughter stopped and a dozen eyes focused on her.

“I…uh, I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to be at home this evening. A visitor arriving. So stupid of me to forget. Thank you, Ulrich. I…uh…I’ll see you all tomorrow at dress rehearsal. ”

Half a dozen heads nodded and murmured polite agreement. Swinging her coat over her shoulders, she left the Café zum Engel without looking back.

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