So dense was the crowd which filled the streets in the neighborhood of the theatre on the evening of Eckhof's benefit, that it appeared as if the entire population of the city of Halle must be unanimous in wishing to do honor to this wonderful artiste.
Eckhof owed this triumph to the students; he had been their darling from the time of his first appearance among them, and now he had become the favorite of the entire city, with the exception of the professors.
Had the theatre been three times its actual size, it could scarcely have accommodated all who had made applications for tickets. The parterre was given up almost entirely to the students, upon whose countenances was plainly seen their deep interest in the evening's entertainment.
Here and there among them a few earnest faces and darkly flashing eyes might be seen, but they seemed to arrest no eye but that of Lupinus. He had passed every countenance in review, and had instantly recognized by their expression those students who had entered into the plot of the president. He had failed in his effort to discover them before the opening of the theatre, and was, therefore, unable to prevent their attendance.
Professor Franke had informed these students that they might count upon the assistance of Lupinus, and one of them had just whispered to him: "There will be a fierce struggle, and I fear we shall be worsted, as our number is so small. Did you bring your rapier?"
Before Lupinus could answer, he was separated from his questioner by a crowd of students pushing their way forward. It seemed as if these new arrivals had not come to the theatre for mere amusement. They glanced threateningly around them, as if seeking a concealed enemy. In passing Lupinus they greeted him with a few low-spoken words, or a warm pressure of the hand.
These students were the special friends of Joseph Fredersdorf. To them he had confided the danger which threatened the actors this evening, and had demanded their aid in maintaining peace and quiet. They scattered about amongst the crowd of students, and whispered to their friends and acquaintances: "No disturbance this evening. We must be quiet, whatever occurs."
At length this fluttering, whispering crowd were silenced by the ringing of the bell which announced the rising of the curtain.
The piece began, and never had Eckhof displayed such fire, such enthusiasm; the students had never exhibited such rapt and earnest attention. Their excitement was shown by their flashing eyes and glowing cheeks, and the low murmurs of delight which arose occasionally from this dark mass. But at length a moment arrived when it became impossible to suppress the expression of their delight, and forgetting all resolve to the contrary, they called aloud, amid thunders of applause, for their favorite Eckhof, who had just left the stage.
"A disturbance is now unavoidable," said Lupinus to himself, "but Eckhof deserves that we should forget all such miserable considerations. To die for him were to be indeed blessed."