“Possibly,” with a shrug of the shoulders, was the reply, and he smoked his short pipe, as carelessly as before.
“Come then, show me the way,” said I, pulling out some kreutzers, “put up that pipe for ten minutes, and lead on.”
The jingle of the copper coin awakened his intelligence, and though he could not fathom my antipathy to the fumes of bad tobacco, he deposited the weapon in his capacious side pocket, and with a short nod, bade me follow him.
No where does nationality exhibit itself so strikingly, as in the conduct and bearing of the people who show you the way, in different cities. Your German is sententious and solemn as an elephant, he goes plodding along with his head down and his hands in his pockets, answering your questions with a sulky monosyllable, and seeming annoyed when not left to his own meditations. The Frenchman thinks, on the contrary, that he is bound to be agreeable and entertaining, he is doing the honours of La Grande Nation, and it stands him upon, that you are not to go away discontented with the politeness of “the only civilized people of Europe.” Paddy has some of this spirit too, but less on national than individual grounds; he likes conversation, and leads the way to it; beside, no one, while affecting to give information himself, can pump a stranger, like an Irishman. The Yankee plan is cross-examination outright, and no disguise about it; if he shows the way to one place, it is because you must tell him where you came from last; while John Bull, with a brief “Don’t know, I’m sure,” is equally indifferent to your road and your fortune, and has no room for any thoughts about you.
My “avant courier” was worthy of his country; if every word had cost him a molar tooth, he couldn’t have been more sparing of them, and when by chance I either did not hear or rightly understand what he did say, nothing could induce him to repeat it; and so, on we went from the more frequented part of the town, till we arrived at a quarter of narrow streets, and poor-looking houses, over the roofs of which I could from time to time, catch glimpses of the fortifications; for we were at the extreme limits of the place.
“Are you quite certain this is the way, my lad?” said I, for I began to fear lest he might have mistaken the object of my inquiry.
“Yes, yes—there it was—there was the theatre,” and so he pointed to a large building of dark stone, which closed the end of the street, and on the walls of which, various placards and announcements were posted, which, on coming nearer, I found were bills for their night’s performance, setting forth how the servants of his Majesty would perform “Den Junker in den Residentz,” and the afterpiece of “Krähwinkel.” There was a very flourishing catalogue of actors and actresses, with names as hard as the dishes in a bill of fare; and something about a “ballet,” and a “musical intermezzo.”
Come—said I to myself—this is a piece of good fortune. And so, dismissing my little foot page I turned to the door, which stood within a deep porch.
What was my amazement, however, to find it closed—I looked on every side, but there was no other entrance; besides, the printed list of places and their prices, left no doubt that this was the regular place of admission. There’s no knowing, after all,—thought I—these Germans are strange folks; perhaps they don’t open the door without knocking, and so, here goes.
“In Himmel’s namen was ist das?” screamed an angry voice, as a very undignified-looking Vrau peeped from a window of a foot square, above the door—“What do you want with that uproar there?” roared she, louder than before.