“You do not answer?  I have not, then, convinced you?”

“Shall we leave Berlin now,” said the hero and lover of the little company, “even now, when they begin to show a little interest, a little enthusiasm for us?”

“Alas, friend! the enthusiasm of the Berliners for us is like a fire of straw—­it flashes and is extinguished; to-day, perhaps, they may applaud us, to-morrow we will be forgotten, because a learned sparrow or hound, a French dancer, or an Italian singer, occupies their attention.  There is neither endurance nor constancy in the Berliners.  Let us go hence.”

“It seems to me that we should make use of the good time while it lasts,” said another.  “At present, our daily bread is secured for ourselves and our families.”

“If you are not willing to endure suffering and want,” said Eckhof, sadly, “you will never be true artistes.  Poverty and necessity will be for a long time to come the only faithful companions of the German actor; and he who has not courage to take them to his arms, would do better to become an honest tailor or a shoemaker.  If the prosperity of your family is your first consideration, why have you not contented yourselves with honest daily labor, with being virtuous fathers of families?  The pursuit of art does not accord with these things; if you choose the one, you must, for a while at least, be separated from the other.”

“That will we do,” cried Fredersdorf, who had just entered the room; “I, for my part, have already set you all a good example.  I have separated from my family, in order to become the husband of Art, whose sighing and ardent lover I have long been; and now, if the noble Eckhof does not reject me as a scholar, I am wholly yours.”

Eckhof seized his hand, and said, with a soft smile, “I receive you joyfully; you have the true fire of inspiration.  From my heart I say you are welcome.”

“I thank you for the word—­and now let us be off.  The German actor is in Germany no better than the Jew was to the Romans.  Let us do as the Jews:  we have also found our Moses, who will lead us to the promised land, where we shall find liberty, honor, and gold.”

“Yes,” they cried, with one voice, “we will follow Eckhof, we will obey our master, we will leave Berlin and seek a city where we shall be truly honored.”

“I have found the city,” said Eckhof; “we will go to Halle.  The wise men who have consecrated their lives to knowledge are best fitted to appreciate and treasure the true artiste; we will unite with them, and our efforts will transform Halle into an Athens, where knowledge and art shall walk hand-in-hand in noble emulation.”

“Off, then, for Halle!” said Fredersdorf, waving his hat in the air, but his voice was less firm, and his eye was troubled.  “Will the director, Schonemein, consent?”

“Schonemein has resolved to go with us, provided we make no claim for salaries, but will share with him both gains and losses.”