"Why are you shocked at my words? I suppose you despise me because of this decision; but what do I care? I will be an artiste; I shall not be disturbed by the turned-up noses and derisive shrugs of you wise ones. I will be a scholar of Eckhof; so despise me, my learned Lupinus--I give you permission." "I am not laughing," said Lupinus. "Each one must walk in that path at the end of which he hopes to find his ideal." "Yes, truly, and so I will go to Eckhof," said Fredersdorf, waving his hat triumphantly in the air. "Do you know where he dwells?" said the youth. "Certainly. We are standing now just before his door. See there in the third story, those two lighted windows? That is Eckhof's home." "What is the name of this street?" "What is that to you? Has my prophecy really come true, and are you in love with the great actor? Do not let go my arm; do not turn away from me angrily. The Post Strasse is a long way off from where you dwell; you will lose yourself. Let us go together. I will risk no more unseemly jests with you. Come!" "He lives in the Post Strasse; he is called Eckhof," said Lupinus to himself, as he took Joseph's arm and walked through the dark streets. "I must see Eckhof; he shall decide my fate." CHAPTER XI. A LIFE QUESTION. It was the morning after Eckhof's benefit. The usually quiet dwelling of the actor resounded with the ringing of glasses and merry songs after the toils and fatigues of the evening. He wished to afford to himself and his comrades a little distraction; to give to the hungry sons of the Muses and Graces a few hours of simple enjoyment. Eckhof's purse was full and he wished to divide its contents with his friends. "Drink and be merry," said he to his gay companions. "Let us forget for a few hours that we are poor, despised German actors. We will drink, and picture to ourselves that we belong to the cherished and celebrated artistes of the French stage, on whom the Germans so willingly shower gold, honor, and even love. Raise your glasses, and drink with me to the success of German art!" "We will drink also to Eckhof," cried one of the youthful company, raising his glass. "Yes, to the father of the now school of German acting." "You are that, Eckhof, and you are also our benefactor," said another. "We thank you, that for some months we have not suffered from hunger and thirst; that the good people of Berlin take an interest in the German stage, and treat us with some consideration. Let us, then, drink to our preserver, to the great Eckhof!" Every glass was raised, and their shouts rang out merrily. Eckhof alone was sad and troubled, and his great dreamy eyes gazed thoughtfully in the distance. His friends observed this, and questioned him as to the cause of his melancholy.