The Climax Page #3

- Not for baritones.

- # I'll touch his hand ##

Ah. Jarmila, Roselli.

Come in. Come in.

MadameJarmila, Signor Roselli.

Miss Angela Klatt. Mr...

Munzer. Franz Munzer.

I'm sorry you didn't hear Miss

Klatt sing. Ah, but we did hear.

May I congratulate you?

Thank you, signor.

And MadameJarmila is just

as enthusiastic as I am.

I am indeed.

You show promise, my dear.

Great promise. Your voice is lovely,

but don't force it.

Today, it would be a folly

to give it to the public.

Believe me. Don't you

agree with me, Seebruck?

I do, Jarmila. As you say,

today, Miss Klatt is not ready.

Not nearly ready.

But next week, Thursday,

I will present her in The Boulevardier.

And please don't faint...

either of you.

Mama Hinzl.

Yes.

What have you got there?

Angela's supper.

Nightingales must have something

solid to eat if they are to sing.

Solid is right. Fat sausages,

buttered buns and rich chocolate.

Take it away. You mean you are going to

let her go to the theater without eating?

That's no good for Angela.

It'll only make her fat.

Suppose it does. Whoever heard of

a good prima donna who wasn't fat?

"Soprano" and "fat" are one

and the same thing. Look at me.

Get her lemon juice and honey.

Lemon juice.

Come in.

Angela, are you ready? Yes.

Where's my muff? My muff.

Angela, don't be nervous now.

I'm not nervous. I feel fine.

You must be. I can't blame you for it. You've

been working so hard, and you're excited.

I'm not excited. Good. I'm not either. I'm as calm

as can be. There's one thing I must impress on you.

When you cross in the beginning of the number...

When you cross to the girls... Cross. Yeah.

You get the mirror from the girls and go

over and hold it in front of you.. Yeah, yeah.

Please, Angela. Hold the mirror low. We

want to see your face. Yeah. The mirror.

Oh, Franz.

Oh, Angela.

Oh, you're going to be wonderful,

and I'll be very proud.

Angela, Franz.

The carriage is here.

Coming.

Carl, a carriage?

Such extravagance.

Certainly. Whoever heard of

a prima donna walking to the theater?

Here you are, my little thrush.

Lemon juice and honey. Drink it all.

Of course, I wouldn't put this mess in

my stomach, but the maestro knows best.

Come, come, children. You can't

be late, Angela. This is an event.

Good luck, darling.

Good-bye. Bye, Mama.!

Lemon juice.

Excuse me. I'm s-sorry.

Oh. Sorry.

Angela Klatt.

The greatest voice in the world.

Quiet.

All right, girls. All right.

Places, please.

Thank you. Thank you.

Jill. Jill. J...

Hello, Jill. Curtain.

#When madame is getting ready

for her heavenly impression #

# Then as models of discretion

we attend her #

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