rushed on to the platform, seized the arm of the conductor
with his icy fingers, and shouted: "That is enough! That is no way to
treat a divine creation!"

The people rose in their seats. The instruments suddenly became silent,
with the exception of a cello which still whimpered from the corner.
Andreas Doederlein bounded back, looked at the mad man, his mouth as wide
as he could open it, laid the baton on the desk, and stammered: "By
Jupiter, this is unheard of!" The musicians left their places and
grouped themselves around the strange man; the tumult in the public grew
worse and worse. They asked questions, threatened, tried to set each
other at ease, scolded and raged. In the meantime Daniel Nothafft, his
head bowed, his back bent, stood there on the platform, glowing with
anger and determined to have his revenge.

A few minutes later, Andreas Doederlein was sitting at the table in the
musicians' waiting room. He looked like Emperor Barbarossa in
Kyffhaeuser. He had well founded reason to express his contempt for the
decadence and impiety of the youth of to-day. It was superfluous for him
to remark that a man who would conduct himself as Daniel had done should
be eliminated from the ranks of those who lay claim to the help and
consideration of sane people. The dignified gentlemen of the Orchestral
Union were of the same opinion; you could search the annals of history
from the beginning of time, and you would never find a case like this.
Mild eyes flashed, grey beards wagged. The deliberation was brief, the
sentence just. A committee waited on Daniel to inform him that his
compositions had been struck from the programme. The news spread like
wild-fire.

Who was happier than Jason Philip Schimmelweis?

He was like a man who gets up from the table with a full stomach, after
having sat down at it fearing lest he starve to death. On his way home
he whistled and laughed alternately and with well balanced proportion.

"There you see it again," he said to his daughter, as she walked along
at his side, "you see it again: you cannot get blood from a turnip any
more than you can get happiness from misery. A jackass remains a
jackass, a culprit a culprit, and loafing never fails to bring the
loafer to a disgraceful end. The Devil has a short but nimble tail; and
it makes no difference how slovenly he may conduct his business, his
recruits have got to pay the piper in the end. This will be a windfall
for mother. Let's hurry