“And why not, friend?” said Joseph.  “Perhaps you belong to the pietists, who look upon the stage as the mother of blasphemy and sin, and who rail at our noble king because he will not close these houses?”

“No, I do not belong to the pietists,” said the youth, with a sad smile, “and I try to serve God, by understanding and admiring His works:  that is my religion.”

“Well, it seems to me that this faith does not forbid you to enter the theatre.  If it pleases you to study God’s master-work, I promise to show you this night on the stage the noblest exemplar.  Eckhof plays this evening.”

“Who, then, is Eckhof?”

Joseph looked at the young man with surprise, and shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

“You have, indeed, been greatly neglected, and it was high time you should come to me.  You do not know, then, that Eckhof is the first tragedian who has dared to set aside the old and absurd dress and manners of the stage, and introduce real, living, feeling men, of like passions with ourselves, and who move and speak even as we do.  Now we must certainly enter the theatre; look there, at that great crowd entering the dark and lowly entrance.  Let us remove our hats reverentially; we stand before the temple of art.”  So saying, he drew the young man, who had no longer courage to resist, into the house.  “This is Eckhof’s benefit.  You see the great tragedian has many admirers; it seems to me that half of Berlin has come to bring him tribute this evening.”

Lupinus sat silent and confused in the parterre, near Joseph.  There was a row of seats slightly elevated and made of common plank, called loges; one of these nearest the stage was adorned by a golden eagle, from which some pitiful drapery was suspended; this was called the king’s loge, but, I am constrained to say, it had never been visited by the king or any member of the royal family.  The royal loge was indeed empty, but the great body of the house was fearfully crowded, and many an expression of pain was heard from those who were closely pressed and almost trampled upon.

“It is fortunate for you that Eckhof appears as Cato tonight:  it is his best role.  Perhaps your learned soul may be somewhat reconciled to such vanities when you see a drama of Gottsched, and a hero of the old and classic time.”

“Yes, but will not your Eckhof make a vile caricature of the noble Roman?” sighed Lupinus.

“You are a pedant, and I trust the Muses will revenge themselves upon you this night,” said Joseph, angrily.  “I prophesy that you will become this evening a wild enthusiast for Eckhof:  that is always the punishment for those who come as despisers and doubters.  If you were a girl, I should know that you would be passionately in love with Eckhof before you slept; you have taken the first step, by hating him.”

Joseph said this thoughtlessly, and did not remark the deep impression his words made upon the stranger.  His face flushed, and his head sank upon his breast.  Joseph saw nothing of this.  At this moment the curtain rose and the piece began.