The Son of Clemenceau | Page 9

spielungs, or dens, she was not one of the stray creatures who sell
pleasure to some and give it to others, and for themselves keep only
shame--fatal ignominy, wealth at best very unsubstantial, and if, at last,
winners, they laugh--one would rather see them weeping.
"What's your name?" she inquired, quickly. "I am Rebecca Daniels,
whom they call on the Bills 'La Belle Stamboulane'--though I have
never been farther east than Prague," she added with a contemptuous
smile. "That was my father, whose maltreatment you so promptly but I
fear so severely chastised. But your name?" impatiently.
"I am a student of Wilna University, traveling according to custom of
the college, through Germany and to make the Italian Art Tour. I am
Claudius Ruprecht."
"Not noble?" she inquired, sadly, on hearing two Christian names and
none of family, for her people treasure the pride of ancestry.
"I am an orphan. I never knew my family. Perhaps, as I am of age, I
shall soon be informed. But--"
"Enough! time is getting on, and we cannot long stay in privacy
here--the passage-way for the performers. This is Freyers' Hall, where I
sing--where I was a player. But my father can speak to you in the
public room and see to your safety--for I fear this night's affair will end
ill. But do not you fear! neither my father nor I have the powerlessness
which that noble ruffian seemed to think is ours. You, at least, shall be
saved--even though you killed that brute."
"I do not think that, unless his head is not so hard as his heart."
She opened a narrow door in the dirty wall. It was brighter in the
capacious place thus shown.
"Go in and sit down anywhere. My father will be with you in a few

minutes. We were so delayed that they feared we would not arrive for
'our turn.' They were glad of the excuse--I fancy they were told it might
occur--and they are trying to break our agreement. But never mind! that
is but a bread-and-butter business for us. For you, it will be life and
death, if that officer be slain."
Claudius, the student, mechanically obeyed the gentle impulsion her
hand imparted to him on the shoulder, and walked through the
side-door. A number of benches were before him with corresponding
narrow tables, and he sat down at one, and looked round.
He found himself in a very long, rectangular hall, low in the ceiling in
proportion to the length, once brightly decorated, but faded, smoked
and tarnished. On the walls, in panels, between tinted pilasters of a
pseudo-Grecian design, were views of the principal towns of Germany
and Austria, the details obliterated in the upper part by smoke and in
the lower by greasy heads and hands. Around the sides, a dais held
benches and tables similar to those on the floor. At the far end was a
bar for beer and other liquors less popular, and an entrance from a main
street, screened and indirect, down steps at another level than the rear
or stage door. Where Claudius sat was a small stage with footlights and
curtain complete, and an orchestra for a miniature piano such as are
used in yachts, and six musicians; the performers sat to face the
audience respectfully in the good Old German style.
The lighting was by means of clusters of gas-jets at intervals in the long
ceiling and along the walls. The announcement of the items of
attraction appearing on the stage was made by changeable sliding cards
in framework at the sides of the stage; to the left the name of the scena
was exhibited, that of the artist on the other.
When Claudius took his seat, the other places were almost all empty;
but they soon began to fill up. The majority of the spectators seemed to
be of the tradesman and workman class, with their wives and daughters,
but the stranger, who had been so surreptitiously "passed in," was not
blind to the presence of a more offensive element. There were faces as
villainous as any under the immediate command of Grandmother
"Baboushka;" and their dress was not much better. More than one

dandy of the gutter nursed the head of a club called significantly the
"lawbreaker's canes of crime," with a distant air of the fop sucking his
clouded amber knob or silver shepherd's-crook. In more than one group
were horse-copers, and their kin the market-gardeners' thieves and
country wagoners' pests, who not only lighten the loads on the way to
the city market on the road, but plunder the drivers after they receive
their salesmoney by cheating at cards.
The student, crowded in by this mixed throng, began to doubt the
providential quality of the intervention saving him from an explanation