r times, by which name our aunt used to designate
thirty years ago, she and the before-mentioned Herr Sivertsen had been
younger. At that time he had already been connected with the
machinery, and was, as she said, her benefactor. It used to be the
custom in those days that in the evening performances in the only
theatre the town possessed, spectators were admitted to the part
called the "flies," over the stage, and every machinist had one or two
places to give away. Often the flies were quite full of good
company; it was said that generals' wives and privy councillors' wives
had been up there. It was quite interesting to look down behind the
scenes, and to see how the people walked to and fro on the stage
when the curtain was down.

Our aunt had been there several times, as well when there was a
tragedy as when there was a ballet; for the pieces in which there were
the greatest number of characters on the stage were the most
interesting to see from the flies. One sat pretty much in the dark
up there, and most people took their supper up with them. Once three
apples and a great piece of bread and butter and sausage fell down
right into the dungeon of Ugolino, where that unhappy man was to be
starved to death; and there was great laughter among the audience. The
sausage was one of the weightiest reasons why the worthy management
refused in future to have any spectators up in the flies.

"But I was there seven-and-thirty times," said our aunt, "and I
shall always remember Mr. Sivertsen for that."

On the very last evening when the flies were still open to the
public, the "Judgment of Solomon" was performed, as our aunt
remembered very well. She had, through the influence of her
benefactor, Herr Sivertsen, procured a free admission for the Agent
Fabs, although he did not deserve it in the least, for he was always
cutting his jokes about the theatre and teasing our aunt; but she
had procured him a free admission to the flies, for all that. He
wanted to look at this player-stuff from the other side.

"Those were his own words, and they were just like him," said
our aunt.

He looked down from above on the 'Judgment of Solomon,' and fell
asleep over it. One would have thought that he had come from a
dinner where many toasts had been given. He went to sleep, and was
locked in. And there he sat through the dark night in the flies, and
when he woke, he told a story, but our aunt would not believe it.

"The 'Judgment of So