Frederick turned pale, and said nothing.  Had he uttered a single word, the result might have been a scandal, perhaps even a duel, out there on the high seas.

He seated himself beside Doctor Wilhelm and acted as if the shout of greeting and the unknown man’s question had not referred to him.  Doctor Wilhelm proposed a game of chess.  Frederick accepted, and while playing, he had time to choke down his humiliation and resentment.  He glanced about furtively to find the speaker.

“There are some people, Doctor von Kammacher,” Arthur Stoss said in a raised voice, “who leave their decency in Europe when they travel to America, though that does not reduce the price of the passage.”

The man at whom the remark was aimed left it unanswered.

“But, Mr. Stoss,” said an elderly man from Hamburg, whose conscience in regard to the offence thrust upon Frederick was evidently clear, “we’re not in a ladies’ parlour, and we needn’t take jokes amiss.”

“I am not in favour of jokes,” said Stoss, “that are made at the expense of persons who are near at hand, but not present, especially when a lady is concerned.  I am still less in favour of them when they are coarse and indecent.”

“Oh, Mr. Stoss,” rejoined the man from Hamburg, “everything in its place.  I have nothing against sermons, but we’re having bad weather here on the ocean and this room is not a church.”

“Besides, nobody mentioned names,” another man said.

Here the American jackanapes joined in the cross talk.

“When Mr. Stoss is in New York,” he said drily, “he will hold services every night at Webster and Forster’s.”

“Some American youngsters are celebrated for their cheek,” Stoss countered.

“Directly after the celebrated Barrison sisters’ appearance, after the song ‘Linger Longer Loo,’ Mr. Stoss will raise his hands to heaven and beg the audience to pray.”  The American spoke without moving a muscle of his face.  He had the last word.  The next instant the slim young fellow was outside the door.

Arthur Stoss had the pleasure of knowing he was a fool for his pains.  But, like Frederick, he paid no attention to the thrust, or to the laughter it provoked.

“People are very much mistaken,” he said, turning to Professor Toussaint, who was sitting beside him and to whom he had been introduced a few minutes before, “if they suppose that morality among vaudeville performers is laxer than among any other set of persons.  It’s an absolutely false assumption.  A performer above the average, who must always be at the very height of his powers, has to practise moderation to the point of abstinence if he wants to remain on top.  Does anybody suppose that a loose life is compatible with those startlingly bold feats that an acrobat does every day and tries to improve upon every day?  Damn it!  It’s something to make your ordinary mortal marvel at.  Why, to do any one of the many things we do, we have to practise asceticism and chastity, and patiently peg away day after day at hard, dangerous work.  Your plain business man, who never omits his glass of beer, has no idea what it is like.”  He continued to sing the praises of vaudeville actors.