"Who is this Scheffer, then?" asked Villiers, "always so silent and buried in his beard? One cannot make him out at all."
"He is correspondent of some small German papers, according to his own account, but, I believe also an office-holder. Certainly he is a good Wagnerian, and that ought to suffice for us."
"His dog is also that," replied Villiers, "for he only comes when one whistles the serenade of Beckmesser."
"Where is the Alte Pferdestrasse?" I asked.
"In a very quiet part of the city, but it is not easy to find—" said Servais. "We will take you there and wait for you, since you only are invited to see the Master...."
It was still daylight when we left Servais' house and sauntered slowly along, in order not to have the air of conspirators. We asked ourselves if Wagner really ran any risks, in coming to Munich. He was not really exiled, only morally so, by his own resolution not to go there. What had he to fear? The public was eager for his works: the price of seats in the theatre doubled when they were played, and the house was always full. Were his enemies still so implacable, and what could they do?
We stopped before the theatre to read the posters and wonder what Perfall was plotting. The Rheingold was announced for Thursday, two days later. The management was stubborn: nevertheless it would have to concede one point; who would conduct the orchestra, if not Richter?
We went on, and were nearly lost in a labyrinth of small deserted streets with grass growing between the pavingstones, with little, low houses and small gardens.
"Alte Pferdestrasse." At last we found it; my companions stopped at the corner of the street and Franz Servais pointed out the house of the greatly envied Scheffer. The entrance door was closed and I knew that porters were not usual in the Munich houses. I could see the shining brass of three little bells, but it had grown very dark, and I could not succeed in making out the name of the resident or the number of the floor engraved under each. Leaving it to chance, I rang the middle one! Chance served me this time, for Scheffer himself came to let me in. We mounted a narrow dimly-lighted staircase to the first floor.
As soon as we passed the threshold, I saw Wagner, at the end of the second room, seated on an old sofa.