Luckily, the curtain drew up, the music ceased, and the play began. Hofer could not understand much of it. But, on the whole, he thought it funny, and concluded it clever,--and did not know whether he should ever care to go to a play again. "They seem to make very light of swearing," thought he; "I have frequently heard them take God's holy name in vain. Some of their dresses, also, are immodest, and as for their music, it makes a man's heart like cream-cheese. The story, too, by what I can make out of their acting, is of two young persons who deceive their parents very much, tell many lies, and think only of their own selfish wishes; yet they are rewarded and applauded at the last, while the old people are laughed at for having been ill-used. So that, altogether, I am glad to see none of our dear Tyrolese here to-night, for it would soften and demoralize them." With these reflections, the thoughtful father of a family quitted his seat at the end of the performance, and stood about in the lobby, looking rather bewildered and uncertain which was his way out; while many smart townspeople of the upper classes looked at him with curiosity and interest as they passed. Our English readers may wonder that, after such a day of stern realities, people could be found with minds sufficiently disengaged to enter a theatre;--but our continental neighbours are as fond of their play as--what shall we say?--an Englishman of his dinner. Both parties _can_ go without it, if there be some stringent necessity; but never from inclination. Hofer was not quite so new to Innsbruck as the generality of his comrades. He had never passed a night there, indeed, but he had occasionally, though rarely, gone thither on business connected with his trade, which had brought him into some slight acquaintance with a brother innkeeper, by name Michael Stumff, whose sign was the "Goldener Adler." As Hofer stood in the lobby of the theatre, spoken to by none, though gazed on by many, a pretty looking young woman, with a respectably dressed young man for her companion, came up and accosted him. "So you have come to see our theatre, Sandwirth," said she, frankly. "Do you not know who I am? I am Alouise Stumff, Michael Stumff's daughter." "Ah, Alouise! I did not know you at first," said Hofer, looking pleased, and holding out his brown hand to her rather red one. "Are you going to spend the night in Innsbruck, Sandwirth?" said Alouise, who addressed him with perfect ease and a little affability, as if it were kind of her to take notice of him. "My father will be very glad if you will take a bed at his house." "That will suit me well," said Hofer, in his plain, homely manner. "I was considering where to bestow myself. So I will go home with you, if it please you, Alouise." "Come along, then," said Alouise briskly. "This young man is a neighbour's son, Sandwirth, Leopold Mayer; we are very old friends."