Operas Every Child Should Know Part 23

"How she makes my mouth water," she muttered. "Come here, little Gretelkin, poke your head into the oven and tell me if you think it hot enough for us to bake in." At this awful moment Hansel whispered:

"Oh, be careful, Gretel!" Gretel nodded at him behind the witch's back.

"Just smell that lovely gingerbread. Do poke your head in to see if it is quite done. Then you shall have a piece hot from the oven." Gretel still hung back.

"I don't quite know how to do it," she apologized. "If you will just show me how to reach up," she murmured; and the old witch, quite disgusted that Gretel should take so long to do as she was bid, and so delay the feast, said:

"Why, this way, you goose," poking her head into the oven, and instantly, Hansel, who had slipped out of the stable, sprang upon the old woman, gave her the push she had intended to give Gretel, and into the oven she popped, and bang went the oven door, while the children stood looking at each other and shivering with fright.

"Oh, my suz! _Do_ you suppose we have her fast?"

"I guess we have," Hansel cried, grabbing Gretel about the waist and dancing wildly in glee. Then they rushed into the house and began to fill their pockets with good things. While they were at this, the oven began to crack dreadfully. The noise was quite awful.

"Oh, mercy! What is happening?" Gretel cried. And at that moment the awful oven fell apart, and out jumped a lot of little children with the gingerbread all falling off them, while they sprang about Hansel and Gretel in great joy. But all their eyes were shut.

They laughed and sang and hopped, crying that Hansel and Gretel had saved them because by baking the old witch they had broken the oven's charm.

"But why don't you open your eyes," Gretel asked.

"We shall not be entirely disenchanted till you touch us," they told her, and then upon being touched by Gretel they opened their eyes like ten-day-old kittens.

Then Hansel took a juniper branch and repeated what he had heard the witch say:

Hocus pocus elder bush, Rigid body loosen, hush!

and there came that gingerbread hedge, walking on legs,--the beautiful gingerbread falling all over the place, and the whole fence turning back into little children.

At that very moment came the broom-maker and his wife, who had sought for the children till they had become nearly distracted. When the children saw them they ran into their mother's arms. All the gingerbread children were singing at the top of their voices and were carrying on in the most joyous way.

Two boys had run to the broken oven, and had begun to drag out an immense gingerbread--it was the old witch, turned into the finest cake ever seen. It was well that she turned out to be good in the end, if only good gingerbread. They dragged her out where everybody could see her, and broke a piece of her off; and then they shoved her into the cottage.

"Now, you see how good children are taken care of," the broom-maker sang; while everybody danced about the disenchanted Ilsenstein, before they went into the house for supper.

MASCAGNI

This composer is too contemporary to be discussed freely. He has done no great amount of work, and fame came to him in his youth.

"Cavalleria Rusticana" is his supreme performance, and there is in it a promise of greater things.

CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA[A]

(Rustic Chivalry)

CHARACTERS OF THE OPERA

Santuzza.

Lola.

Turiddu.

Alfio.

Lucia.

Peasants.

The story is of peasant people in a small Sicilian village, on an Easter day.

Composer: Pietro Mascagni.

Authors: Giovanni Targioni-Tozzetti and Guido Menasci.

First sung at Rome, May 20, 1890.

[Footnote A: The quotations from "Cavalleria Rusticana" are from the English version by Nathan Haskell Dole, Copyright, 1891, by G.

Schirmer.]

ACT I

One fine Easter morning, in a small Italian village, a fop, named Turiddu, came along the little street singing of Lola, an old sweetheart, who, since Turiddu went to serve his required term in the army, had married a wagoner. Turiddu was far from heartbroken, because when he returned and first heard of Lola's faithlessness, he straightway fell in love with a worthier girl--Santuzza. Neither Lola nor Turiddu was a faithful sort, but lived for a good time to-day, leaving luck to look after to-morrow; but it was not the same with Santuzza. She truly loved Turiddu, and being an Italian peasant, very emotional and excitable, it was going to be dangerous for Turiddu to ill-treat her.

If that Easter morning found Turiddu quite gay and free, it found Santuzza full of despair and misgiving, because she knew that her lover had returned to his former sweetheart. Lola's husband, the wagoner, was frequently away from his home, and in his absence his wife had been flirting. In a little village, where everybody knew everybody else, and all of each other's business, Santuzza's companions had learned that Turiddu had thrown his new love over for the old, and instead of pitying her, they had ridiculed and treated her unkindly.

On a Sunday morning, just before the villagers started to church, Santuzza started for Turiddu's home. He lived near the church, with Lucia, his old mother. Santuzza had been thinking all night of what she could do to win her lover back; and at daylight had risen with the determination to go to old Lucia, and tell her how her son had misbehaved. In Italy, even grown sons and daughters obey their parents more promptly than the small children in America ever do. Santuzza, all tears and worn with sleeplessness, thought possibly Lucia could prevail upon Turiddu to keep his word and behave more like an honest man. All the little village was astir early, because Easter is a fete day in Italy, and the people make merry, as well as go to church. The peasants were pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing through the little square as Santuzza entered it. She looked very sad and her eyes were swollen with crying. But no one paid any attention to her as all were going into the church for early ma.s.s. After the crowd had gone in, the sound of the organ and of the congregation's voices could be heard in the square. They sang an Easter carol--about flowers and carolling larks and orange blossoms--which did not make Santuzza any the happier; but she went to the door of old Lucia's house and called softly:

"Mama Lucia--Mama Lucia--art thou there?"

"Thou, Santuzza? What wilt thou, my dear?" the old woman answered, hobbling out.

"Mama Lucia, where is thy son?" Santuzza demanded.

"Thou hast come to see Turiddu? I do not know, my girl. I have nothing to do with quarrels, you must understand," she answered cautiously, half suspecting Santuzza's trouble, because she had already suffered many times on account of her son's faithlessness to others.

"Mama Lucia, I beg of you not to turn me away. Listen to my troubles.

It is thy son who has caused them, and I must see him," Santuzza sobbed.

"Well, I cannot help thee--though I am truly sorry for thee," the mother answered, after a moment, observing all the signs of the sorrow that Santuzza felt. "He is not at home. He has gone to fetch the wine from Francofonte."

"No, no--he hasn't. He was seen about the village only last night."

"Who told thee that? I, his mother, should know if he is at home or not."

"Mama Lucia, do not turn me away--I am in great sorrow, and you will be unhappy all your life if you ill-treat me now." At this they were disturbed by the cracking of whips and jingling of bells which told of the return to town of the wagoner. Alfio was returning on Easter morning in time to join the gaiety with his wife, Lola.

He came in jauntily, singing:

[Music: