"What a passion it is!" cried the Gallmeyer. "Soon there will only be duchesses and princesses acting in the Karl Theatre. Well, for my part I shall stick to Pepi Gallmeyer."
And she sang,
"My mother is a washerwoman,
And but a ballad girl am I,
And when a sweetheart comes to woo,
Away I to the washtub fly."
"Yes, it is true," said Grois; "you would be spoilt as a duchess. Do you know what she did the other day? The Duke della Rotunda gave us a great supper at his hotel. It was all quite princely, and footmen in white stockings handed the most excellent dishes. Pepi did nothing but gape; at last she said, 'My lord duke, where is the Schwemme? I can't stand this, 'tis too fine for me.'"
"What is the Schwemme?" asked von Stielow.
"It is what they call the second class restaurants in Vienna; they have them in every hotel here to accommodate traveller's servants."
"And they are a thousand times more amusing than that tiresome old duke, with his silver candlesticks and stork-legged lacqueys," laughed the Gallmeyer.
The door was opened hastily, and a beautiful young woman holding a newspaper in her hand entered. It was Madame Friedrich-Materna, an opera-singer, then engaged at the Karl Theatre.
"Have you heard it yet?" she cried, "war is declared, or as good as declared; it is here in the 'Evening Post;' our ambassador is recalled from Berlin, and the army is ordered to march into Bohemia."
"Then it is all up with us," cried the Gallmeyer, "all up with merry Vienna; and," she added, glancing compassionately at von Stielow, "alas! how many handsome young fellows will get shot."