For weeks, the preparations for the Headmistress' birthday brought variety to the monotony of life. As every year, on this holiday in May, there was to be a festive performance by the schoolgirls, and this time, according to an unwritten law, it was Mademoiselle Oeuillet's turn to teach children how to perform in a French play. After much hesitation, they chose Voltaire's Zaïre, a classic play characterised by the verve of its verses and chivalry of its nature, without tackling problems that were too far removed from the young age of the performers.
The teachers relaxed a little in their strict learning requirements during these weeks. Everywhere one went and stood, one met children who were studying and memorising eagerly.
Manuela—who seemed to be Mademoiselle's particular favourite—was given the role of the crusader Nérestan, whose sister Zaïre—played by Edelgard—was held captive by Orosman, the sultan ruling in Jerusalem. The part of Orosman—who loved passionately and was not inferior to any Christian in nobleness—had been given to Ilse, and she incessantly declaimed the long, rolling Alexandrines of French poetry with her eyes flashing terrifyingly.
Even in the garden, where the children were occasionally kept busy digging and weeding, the wild rehearsals continued, full of zeal. They forgot about their work and became hot. Even Edelgard—who until recently had always been in a flood of tears because of spring homesickness—allowed herself to be carried away.
Manuela stood on the bench and raised her arm high in the air. With one foot placed knightly in front of her, the spade with which she had just turned over earth gripped like a sword, she chanted loudly and enthusiastically, as if intoxicated by the harmonious sound of the syllables,
"Vous, le sang de vingt rois, esclave d'Orosman !
Parente de Louis, fille de Lusignan,
Vous, chrétienne et ma sœur, esclave d'un soudan ... !"
("You, blood of twenty kings, slave of Orosman!
Relative of Louis, daughter of Lusignan,
You, Christian and my sister, slave of a sultan . . . !")
She remained silent; she waited. Now Edelgard would have had her chance, the beautiful Zaire, in love with Muslim Orosman and ready to become his wife. But Edelgard ignored her cue. Edelgard and Ilse—Manuela saw awakening—Edelgard and Ilse laughed.
"What is it? Was it that bad?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh, Lela, you're hysterically funny!" Ilse bent over. "You talk like an actress; do it properly now, all right?"
"Nonsense, I can't say it in any other way, I'm much too happy! Everything is so beautiful, the garden and the sun and you and everything. And now, for the first time in my life, I will be able to be who I am."
She jumped off the bench and put her arm around Edelgard.
"Edel, just imagine this—my hair is down and the silver shirt, and the tights in silver, no skirt! And then I'm standing there like this, and then Oda says to me,
"O brave Nérestan, chevalier généreux,
Vous qui brisez les fers de tant de malheureux ... "
("O brave Nérestan, generous knight,
You who break the chains of so many unfortunate ones . . .")
Blissfully, she threw her arms in the air, "Children, you must like me! Then, when I can laugh and cry like never before, so freely, so . . ."
"Well, listen," Ilse interjects worryingly, "You can laugh and cry just as it is also."
"Never enough, Ilse. Never as when one pretends to be someone else and yet is oneself." And stepping closer to Ilse, quieter, "Ilse, do you think Fräulein von Bernburg knows anything about theatre?"
"She has no idea!"
"Oh, Ilse . . ." Manuela is dismayed seriously.
"If I tell you!" Ilse insists, gloating at Manuela's disappointment. "The other day, when she was inspecting my locker, she said, "Well, Ilse, you have funny taste—all male actors."
"Oh, that has nothing to do with what I mean."
"It's an unobjective judgement. Certainly."