The piece began, and never had Eckhof displayed such fire, such enthusiasm; the students had never exhibited such rapt and earnest attention.  Their excitement was shown by their flashing eyes and glowing cheeks, and the low murmurs of delight which arose occasionally from this dark mass.  But at length a moment arrived when it became impossible to suppress the expression of their delight, and forgetting all resolve to the contrary, they called aloud, amid thunders of applause, for their favorite Eckhof, who had just left the stage.

“A disturbance is now unavoidable,” said Lupinus to himself, “but Eckhof deserves that we should forget all such miserable considerations.  To die for him were to be indeed blessed.”

As Eckhof appeared upon the stage, in answer to the repeated calls upon his name, Lupinus gazed upon him with a beaming countenance, and joined the others in their cries of delight.

The unalloyed triumph of Eckhof endured but for one moment, for suddenly, high above the shouts of applause, arose a piercing, derisive whistle, succeeded by hisses and groans.

As if by magic, the aspect of the parterre was changed.  Every student looked wrathfully at his neighbor, as if determined to discover and punish the rash offender who dared run counter to the general approbation.  A few students were endeavoring to calm the rising storm; but renewed hisses and groans made this impossible, and one voice was heard high above the others:  “You hissed, sir; I forbid it!”

“And I forbid you to applaud,” was the answer.  “So long as you applaud, I will hiss.  Accommodate yourself to that.”

A universal cry of wrath arose as if from one voice.  The struggle was inevitable, as Lupinus had foreseen; the parterre of the theatre was converted into a battle-ground, and a fierce combat began among these young, hot-blooded students.  The manager ordered the lights to be extinguished, and the police to be called in, but for a long time their efforts were ineffectual in subduing the contest.

We will leave the theatre with Lupinus, who, as soon as he could extricate himself from the battling crowd, hurried through the streets, toward the lodging of Fredersdorf.

He found a post-carriage before the door, and Fredersdorf, dressed for a journey, was just leaving the house.  As he was stepping into the carriage, Lupinus placed his hand upon his shoulder, and said, “Where are you going, Fredersdorf?”

“To Berlin, to the king.”

“The king is not in Berlin; he is in Silesia, with the army.”

“I received letters from my brother to-day.  The king has gone to Berlin for a few days, and my brother is with him.  I will have no difficulty in obtaining an audience.  I shall give the king a correct version of this affair.  He will perceive that this disturbance was occasioned by the professors, and he will not allow us to be driven from Halle.  Farewell, my friend; in four days I return, and you shall hear the result of my journey.”