"And they are able to make a living here? Who goes to the theatre then?"
"Well, the rustics about here come if there is anything to grin at. They don't give money because they have none themselves; but they bring corn, potatoes, sausages and hams and the actors live upon the proceeds as best they can. When they have made any debts they cannot pay they simply bolt on the first fine night and go somewhere else."
"But don't they leave their decorations or their wardrobe in pledge behind them?"
At this the landlord laughed aloud as if it were a capital joke.
"Decorations, wardrobes, indeed! Why their stage curtain consists of a large piece of threadbare sackcloth pasted over with tricolored paper on which they have painted the national coat of arms. Their wardrobe too is of the very simplest description. When they play a piece in which kings and queens appear, they borrow the gold bespangled dresses of the rich Servian women of the district to serve them as royal mantles. All they require besides is a little tinsel, some spangles and some pasteboard—and there you are! The manager, as I have said, is still but a child, but so ingenious is he that he can make moonshine out of a yellow gourd and produce thunder and lightning,—but that is a professional secret. It is true they have only six pieces in all, and when they have played these through they begin them all over again. The public, naturally, does not like to see the same piece twice, so the manager gives the piece another title, changes the titles of all the characters and represents the piece over again as a brand new one."
"I should like to see to-day's representation," said Szilard, whose curiosity had been excited by this peculiar description.
"I'll fetch your honour a play bill immediately," said the innkeeper.
Off went mine host returning in a few moments with a MS. play bill on which was written in large red letters: "Hernáni or Castilian Honour," followed by the names of the personages. Hernáni was naturally the manager himself, Leander Babérossy,[39] Elvira was to be played by Miss Palmira, the other gentlemen were simply indicated by N. N., X. X. or * *. "They are all women you know," explained the innkeeper, "who don't want to advertise their names. The charge for the front seats is 2½d, for the second-class places, a penny."
[39] I.e., Laurel bearer.
"The gentry can sit where they please, I presume?"