“Refused it?” exclaimed the two professors.

“Yes, refused it; he declares that he will not allow the actors to be expelled from Halle, until it can be satisfactorily proved that they have occasioned public disturbances in our midst.”

“This is unheard-of injustice,” exclaimed Professor Bierman.

“It is a new proof of the king’s utter godliness,” said Professor Heinrich.  “He has already gone so far as to declare that these actors shall receive Christian burial.”

“Astounding!” cried the president.  “This is a sacrilege, which will assuredly meet a just punishment.  But,” he continued after a pause, glancing anxiously around, “let us not forget that we are speaking of our king.”

“He seems to forget that even kings are but the servants of the Lord.  His acts show a determination to destroy the church and its supporters.”

“Your remark is, I fear, too true,” answered Professor Franke; “but the object of our meeting was not to discuss the king, but to discover, if possible, some means of extricating ourselves from the disagreeable position in which we have been placed by the unexpected refusal of our petition.  We were so confident of a different answer to our just demand, and have expressed this confidence so publicly, that, when the result is known, we shall be ridiculed by both citizens and students.”

While the worthy professors were still deep in their discussion, they were interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who announced that there was a gentleman at the door, who called himself Eckhof, and who desired to be admitted to President Franke.

“Eckhof!” exclaimed all three, and the two friends looked mistrustfully at Franke.

“Eckhof!  Do you receive Eckhof?”

“Does this actor dare to cross your threshold?”

“It appears so,” cried Franke, angrily.  “He has the boldness to force himself into my presence.—­Let him enter; we will then hear how he justifies this intrusion.”

As Eckhof entered the room, the three professors remained seated, as if awaiting the approach of a criminal.

Apparently unmoved by this want of courtesy, Eckhof advanced to the president, and, after making a respectful bow, offered him his hand.

Franke, ignoring this movement, asked, without changing his position, to what singular accident he might attribute the honor of this visit.

Eckhof appeared grieved and astonished at the reception, but replied, “I came, your excellency, to ask a favor.  My friends have determined to give me a benefit to-night, and we have selected Voltaire’s wonderful tragedy, ‘Britannicus,’ for our performance.  The tickets are all sold, two hundred of them to the students.  There is, however, one thing wanting to make the evening all I would wish, and that is the presence of your excellency and some of the professors at the representation.  Therefore I am here, and have taken the liberty of bringing these tickets, which I beg you will accept for the use of yourself and your brother professors,” and, bowing once more, he placed the tickets upon the table before which he was standing.