from it, all eyes were fixed on the stage. The opera had just
reached the scene where Count Almaviva lifts the carpet from the
chair and finds Cherubino under it. A loud outburst of laughter
resounded from the pit to the upper gallery. But in the midst of the
din, a loud and angry voice exclaimed: "Ah, you young good-for-
nothing, if I had you here I would show you how to behave!" And a
threatening fist and vigorous arm was raised in the midst of the
orchestra-stalls.

"Good heavens! that is really Andreas Hofer," murmured Baron von
Hormayr, concealing himself anxiously behind the pillar. A renewed
shout of laughter greeted Hofer's words, and all eyes turned toward
the side where they had been uttered. And there sat the good Andreas
Hofer, in his handsome national costume, with his long black beard,
and his florid, kind-hearted face. There he sat, quite regardless of
the gaze which the audience fixed upon him, utterly unaware of the
fact that he was the observed of all observers, and quite engrossed
in looking at the stage, where proceeded the well-known scene
between Cherubino, the count, and Figaro. He followed the progress
of the action with rapt attention, and when Cherubino tried to prove
his innocence by all sorts of plausible and improbable falsehoods,
Hofer's brow became clouded. He averted his eyes from the stage, and
turned to his neighbor. "Why," he said, loudly and indignantly,
"that boy is as great a liar as though he were Bonaparte himself!"

Now the merriment of the audience knew no longer any bounds. They
applauded, they shouted, "Bravo! bravo!" They forgot the scene on
the stage entirely, and devoted their exclusive attention to the
queer, bearded stranger in the orchestra-stall, on whom all eyes and
opera-glasses were fixed.