ible attack of stage-fright that he trembled and shook--nay,
when the car got into motion to come forward, he shrunk into himself,
and all the manager's efforts to induce him to reassure himself, and,
at all events, stand upright, were useless. Just then it happened that
one of the wheels got entangled in the long mantle which Sarastro
wears, so that the further he got on to the stage, the more this mantle
dragged him backwards; whilst he, struggling against this, and keeping
his feet firm, appeared in the centre of the stage with the nether
portion of his body projecting forwards, and his head and shoulders
held tremendously far back. The audience were immensely pleased at this
most regal attitude and appearance of the inexperienced neophyte, and
the manager offered him, and concluded with him, an engagement on very
liberal terms. Now, this simple little story was being told, lately, in
a company where there was a French lady who did not understand a word
of German. When everybody laughed, at the end of the story, she wanted
to know what the laughter was about, and our worthy D. (who, when he
speaks French, gives a most admirable, and very close, imitation of the
tones and actions of French people, but is continually at a loss for
the words) undertook to translate the story to her. When he came to the
wheel which had got entangled with Sarastro's cloak, constraining him
to his regal attitude, he called it 'Le rat,' instead of 'La roue.' The
French lady's brow clouded, her eyebrows drew together, and in her face
was plainly to be read the terror which the story had produced in her,
whereto conduced the circumstance that D. had 'let on' upon his face
the full power of tragi-comic muscular play which it was capable of.
When, at the end, we all laughed more than before at this amusing
misunderstanding (which we all took good care not to explain), she
murmured to herself, 'Ah! les barbares!' The good lady not unnaturally
looked upon us as barbarians for thinking it so amusing that an
abominable rat should have frightened the poor young man almost to
death, at the very commencement of his stage-career, by holding on to
his cloak."

When the friends had done laughing, Vincenz said: "Suppose we now bid
adieu to the subject of French conversation, with all its _bon mots_,
_calembours_, and other ingredients, and come to the conclusion that it
really is an immense pleasure when, amongst intellectual Germans, a
conversation, insp