When the doubting officer saw the amount of the credits, his hands shook and he handed the papers back to Walther as if they were state documents. The officers helped the two young men to their feet, admonished them sharply, tipped their hats to Walther and hurried back to their posts. Willy regarded Walther quizzically. "Well, young man, you seem to have very persuasive ways!" At home, it had been easy for Walther to slip from English to German. He did it now in the stress of the moment. "Ich kann Ihnen nicht sagen wie leid es mir tut--" He was in the middle of his apology before he realized he was talking German. He broke off in confusion. Willy's pink cheeks crinkled with amusement. "Ist schon gut. Ich spreche auch das 'alte' Deutsch." Willy went on to explain: "As a young man I translated many of the German masters into our modern happy time presentations. Now, what is it you wanted to ask Miss Maria?" Walther addressed his question to Willy, but he looked at Maria as he spoke: "I ... I wanted to ask if she would ever consider singing Rigoletto in its original form. I would be happy to pay all expenses...." "I'm sure you would," Willy said drily. "But Miss Maria sings only the pure happy time essence of Rigoletto. Not for more than a century has Verdi's original version been sung on Earth." Maria looked puzzled during the interchange. Willy translated for her, and she nodded in vigorous endorsement of his words. There was a titter of laughter from the young couples who had crowded around them again. Walther drew himself very erect. "Thank you," he said. He turned on his heel and walked into the darkness beyond the stage exit. He walked blindly into the snow flurries, not caring where his steps were taking him. But he had not gone two hundred yards before he realized he was being followed. * * * * * Walther stopped and waited. The footsteps behind him drew closer. A slight shadow bulked out of the darkness, and Walther heard Willy Fritsh say in German: "Don't be alarmed, young man." Willy came up and linked his arm through Walther's. "Keep on walking--It's a cold night." The chill air rattled in Willy's throat as he panted from the pace of overtaking Walther. When he caught his breath, he asked: "What sort of world do you come from? It's quite amazing that someone from the Andromeda galaxy should ask for the original Rigoletto!" Walther told the old producer something of his home and family. Willy questioned him closely on several points, and finally seemed satisfied. "When they come from the stars," he murmured. "I beg your pardon?" "It is nothing--just the title of an old classic." At the next corner, Willy stopped. "I leave you here." He stepped closer to Walther and lowered his voice, even though there was nothing around them but darkness and drifting snow. "Would you care to sample a bit of Bohemia, my boy?" "Well--I guess so," Walther answered doubtfully.