for an orchestra-stall,' and threw a florin on the table. Thereupon
they handed me a ticket, and I followed the others into the hall.
The performance commenced almost at the same moment, the curtain
rose, and the actors began to sing. It is true, it is not a passion-
play, and there is nothing from the Bible in it; but then it is a
nice play. I believe the curtain will rise again immediately, and it
is time for me to return to my seat. But I should like to know where
my countryman with the horses and wine is. He insisted on seeing me,
sent for me, and does not come now."

"But, Andy, do you not yet know that it was I who sent for you?"
asked Hormayr. "Why, it was only a stratagem of mine to get the
Barbone out of the theatre and take him away from here."

"But why do you want to take me away from here? I tell you I like
the play very well, and have never seen any thing like it. It is
true, Cherubino, the boy, is an arrant liar, but he is a jolly
fellow, and I do not want him to come to grief. And Figaro is a sly
fox, and withal a brave man. I should like to make his acquaintance
and ask him if he really promised old Marielle to marry her; for it
would be wrong if he did not keep his word now, and refused to make
her his wife because he likes the young woman better than her. If I
knew where he lives, I would go to him this very night and tell him
what he ought to do."

"Oh, you foolish old child of Nature! what you saw on the stage was
nothing but a play. Figaro never existed; and even though he did,
you would not go to him, but accompany me and take supper with me."

"I am sorry." said Andreas, gravely, "I cannot do so; for, in the