By common consent we achieved a moment's unanimity of silence, which was seized by Herr Siegfried as the auspicious moment for his entrance. Without the least loss of dignity he clambered onto his chair, as we applauded, perfunctorily, by hammering our alleged music-stands with non-existent bows; and, turning to the audience, he bowed with the restraint of genius--a feat of condescension which appeared to delight the throng hugely, for he was constrained to turn about and acknowledge their plaudits a second time before they would allow him to proceed. As drummer I assumed an air of morose boredom. The noise of the audience having subsided, the conductor opened his score and nodded to his _Concertmeister_, Herr Klotz, who carefully found the required place in the orchestration. "Blay der 'Liebestod' music," said he in his most professional manner to us. We nodded knowingly, and found the required part in the last act of our scores, after turning over a vast number of visionary pages. "Do we begin at the beginning?" asked Norman. "Yes," I answered, "and leave off at the end." After which sally I laughed immoderately, and began to understand the instinct which causes a humorist to enjoy his own wit more than any other's. A rap on the stand brought my mirth to a close. Both arms were extended in the air--a last look at both sides of the orchestra (there must have been a hundred of us)--the left hand slowly poised to indicate "piano"--the right hand gently raised--and then the strings were brought into action. I had intended, as another excellent jest, to give a tremendous crash on the pan at the start, so as to bring down the leader's wrath, but something in the little chap's attitude stopped me. This was not play to him--it was real; and, to my amazement, it seemed no less vivid to my fellow-burlesquers. Herr Klotz was playing the chromatic development of the opening as if it had been Covent Garden and the real Nikisch conducting. The Blower of Bubbles was giving one more proof of his amazing versatility. In some manner he was imitating a cello, and he _knew_ the music. Where he had learned it one could only conjecture--but when did he learn anything?