Joseph Hüttenbrenner went with Schindler when he escorted the composer to his lodgings. At this point there appears to be something like a flight of the imagination in Schindler’s narrative. Arrived at home Schindler hands Beethoven the box-office report. He takes it, gives it a glance and falls in a swoon. The two friends raise him from the floor and carry him to a sofa, where he lies without uttering a word until far into the night. Then they observe that he has fallen asleep, and depart. Next morning Beethoven is found on the sofa, still in his concert-clothes. Schindler should have taken a glance at the Conversation Books before writing this dramatic story. There he would have found a record of his own words which shows that he came to Beethoven on the day after the concert and asked him to send his nephew to meet him in the afternoon at the box-office of the theatre where the accounts were to be settled. He did not know what the receipts were even then, for he remarks to Beethoven, “In Paris and London the concert would certainly have yielded from 12 to 15 thousand florins; here it may be as many hundreds.” And then he goes on: “After yesterday you must now too plainly see that you are trampling upon your own interests by remaining longer within these walls. In short, I have no words to express my feelings at the wrong which you are doing yourself.... Have you recovered from yesterday’s exertions?” [Sidenote: FRIENDS ACCUSED OF DISHONESTY] The financial results of the concert fell far short of Beethoven’s expectations. The gross receipts were 2200 florins in the depreciated Vienna money, of which only 420 florins remained after paying the cost of administration and copying; and against this pitiful sum some petty expenses were still chargeable. Beethoven was not only disappointed; he was chagrined and thrown into a fuming ill-humor. He invited Schindler, Umlauf and Schuppanzigh to dine with him at the restaurant “Zum wilden Mann” in the Prater. The composer came with his nephew; “his brow was clouded, his words were cold, peevish, captious,” says Schindler. He had ordered an “opulent” meal, but no sooner had the party sat down to the table than the “explosion which was imminent” came. In plainest terms he burst out with the charge that the management and Schindler had cheated him. Umlauf and Schuppanzigh tried to convince him that that was impossible, as every penny had passed through the hands of the two theatre cashiers, whose accounts tallied, and that though it was contrary to custom, his nephew had acted in behalf of his brother as comptroller. Beethoven persisted in his accusation, saying that he had his information from an entirely credible source. Thereupon Schindler and Umlauf abruptly left the room. Schuppanzigh remained behind just long enough to get a few stripes on his broad back and then joined his companions in misery. Together they finished their meal at a