The time is Christmas Eve. Before the close of the afternoon Reinhard and some other students were sitting together at an old oak table in the Ratskeller.[2] [2] The basement of the Rathaus or Town Hall. This, in almost every German town of importance, has become a restaurant and place of refreshment. The lamps on the wall were lighted, for down here in the basement it was already growing dark; but there was only a thin sprinkling of customers present, and the waiters were leaning idly up against the pillars let into the walls. In a corner of the vaulted room sat a fiddler and a fine-featured gipsy-girl with a zither; their instruments lay in their laps, and they seemed to be looking about them with an air of indifference. A champagne cork popped off at the table occupied by the students. "Drink, my gipsy darling!" cried a young man of aristocratic appearance, holding out to the girl a glass full of wine. "I don't care about it," she said, without altering her position. "Well, then, give us a song," cried the young nobleman, and threw a silver coin into her lap. The girl slowly ran her fingers through her black hair while the fiddler whispered in her ear. But she threw back her head, and rested her chin on her zither. "For him," she said, "I'm not going to play." Reinhard leapt up with his glass in his hand and stood in front of her. "What do you want?" she asked defiantly. "To have a look at your eyes." "What have my eyes to do with you?" Reinhard's glance flashed down on her. "I _know_ they are false." She laid her cheek in the palm of her hand and gave him a searching look. Reinhard raised his glass to his mouth. "Here's to your beautiful, wicked eyes!" he said, and drank. She laughed and tossed her head. "Give it here," she said, and fastening her black eyes on his, she slowly drank what was left in the glass. Then she struck a chord and sang in a deep, passionate voice: To-day, to-day thou think'st me Fairest maid of all; To-morrow, ah! then beauty Fadeth past recall. While the hour remaineth, Thou art yet mine own; Then when death shall claim me, I must die alone. While the fiddler struck up an allegro finale, a new arrival joined the group. "I went to call for you, Reinhard," he said, "You had already gone out, but Santa Claus had paid you a visit." "Santa Claus?" said Reinhard. "Santa Claus never comes to me now." "Oh, yes, he does! The whole of your room smelt of Christmas tree and ginger cakes." Reinhard dropped the glass out of his hand and seized his cap. "Well, what are you going to do now?" asked the girl. "I'll be back in a minute." She frowned. "Stay," she said gently, casting an amorous glance at him. Reinhard hesitated. "I can't," he said.