ey don't open the door without knocking,
and so, here goes.

"In Himmel's namen was ist das?" screamed an angry voice, as a very
undignified-looking Vrau peeped from a window of a foot square, above
the door--"What do you want with that uproar there?" roared she, louder
than before.

"I want to get in--a place in the boxes, or a 'stalle' in the
'balcon'--anywhere will do."

"What for?" cried she again.

"What for!--for the play to be sure--for the 'Junker in den Resident.'"

"He is not here at all--go your ways--or I'll call the Polizey," yelled
she, while, banging the window, there was an end of the dialogue.

"Can I be of any service to you, mein Herr?" said a portly little
fellow, without a coat, who was smoking at his door--"What is it you
want?"

"I came to see a play," said I, in amazement at the whole proceedings,
"and here I find nothing but an old beldam that threatens me with the
police."

"Ah! as for the play I don't know," replied he, scratching his head,
"but come with me over here to the 'Fox' and we're sure to see the Herr
Director."

"But I've nothing to do with the Herr Director," said I; "if there's no
performance I must only go back again--that' s all."

"Aye! but there may though," rejoined my friend; "come along and see the
Herr himself, I know him well, and he'll tell you all about it."

The proposition was at least novel, and as the world goes, that same is
not without its advantages, and so I acceded, and followed my new guide,
who, in the careless _negligee_ of a waistcoat and breeches, waddled
along before me.

The "Fox" was an old-fashioned house, of framed wood, with queer
diamond-shaped panes to the windows, and a great armorial coat over the
door, where a fox, in black oak, stood out conspicuously.

Scarcely had we entered the low arched door, when the fumes of schnaps
and tobacco nearly suffocated me; while the merry chorus of a drinking
song, proclaimed that a jolly party was assembled.

I already repented of my folly in yielding to the strange man's
proposal, and had he been near, would at once have declined any further
step in the matter; but he had disappeared in the clouds,--the disc of
his drab shorts was all I could perceive through the nebulee. It was
confoundedly awkward, so it was. What right had I to hunt down the Herr
Director, and disturb him in his lair. It was enough that there was no
play; any other man would have quietly returned home again, when he saw