pleased with the emphatic way it came out.
Carl Meyer, she noticed, was sweating lightly. The lawyer, whose name she had failed to catch, looked mildly impatient. âQuite right,â he said. âI never expect the ladies to bother with reading the small print, but you are absolutely right, Miss Paget. Do, pray, read it at your leisure.â He looked ostentatiously at his watch and handed her the surprisingly long document.
It was, at first sight, a fairly standard contractâprinted, with spaces left for various facts and figures to be filled in. It certainly all looked reasonable enough, but she remembered Falinieriâs warning, and why was Carl so obviously tense? The salary offered was incredibly high for an understudy, but, equally, low for a principal. She looked at this clause thoughtfully, wondering if it was worth querying, her thumb marking the place.
Money I despise it
⦠But it would be pleasant to have enough money to die in comfort.
âFräulein Pagetââthe lawyer had seen where she had pausedââplease, see here.â He turned the page to where an extra clause had been typed in, promising what struck her as a quite enormous bonus for each performance at which she actually sang. âWe all know you will sing at each one,â he said. âIt has been discussed ⦠The Princess quite understands ⦠She agrees ⦠She asks me to say that she greatly looks forward to meeting you tonight.â
âThe Princess?â She looked at him in amazement.
âPrincess Alix.â He was surprised at her surprise. âYou did not know?â He turned to Carl. âYou did not tell her?â
âI thought she knew.â Carl was still sweating.
âYou mean, itâs the princess who has the contralto voice.â
Anne was working it out slowly. âHer idea, the whole thing.â She turned to Carl. âI remember, you said Alixâs idea. But you never said she was a princess.â
âShe prefers to be called Alix,â said the lawyer.
âBut to give it up now,â protested Anne. âSuch a chance! Such a part! She canât!â
âShe has,â said the lawyer. âShe talked to her father, and thenâshe heard your voice. She yields, she says, to the greater singer.â
âHeard me? But how?â
âWe are well equipped here, Annchen.â Carl was not enjoying this interview. âYou were taped, last night, when you delighted us so.â
âOh, I was, was I?â Odd to be so angry. âWell, before you do it another time you will kindly let me know.â She dropped her eyes from his unhappy ones and went on reading the contract, and suddenly, there it was, the point she was supposed to have agreed on without noticing. First, the provision she had expected about keeping herself open for a star part in next yearâs Lissenberg Festival, and then, an inconspicuous part of the standard printed contract, the unbelievable undertaking: âAnd I hereby agree that between now and this time next year I will keep myself free of all professional organisations that might in any way guide, control or inhibit my performance.â She looked up and met the lawyerâs shifting eyes. âThis means,â she said, âthat I would not be able to join Equity if I should get the chance.â
âWe pride ourselves upon being amateurs here, Fräulein,â he said inadequately.
âAll very fine for Princess Alix.â She reached over and took the gold pen from his hand. âFor me, no.â She struck out the offending sentence and wrote her initials boldly in the margin, then handed the pen back to the lawyer. âIf you will be so good as to do so too,â she said. âAnd you,â to Carl, who looked as if he wished the floor would open and swallow him.
âHis Highness will not like it,â said the lawyer.
âThen His Highness will have to find