"This evening I saw a German play acted," said the Moon. "It was
in a little town. A stable had been turned into a theatre; that is
to say, the stable had been left standing, and had been turned into
private boxes, and all the timber work had been covered with
coloured paper. A little iron chandelier hung beneath the ceiling, and
that it might be made to disappear into the ceiling, as it does in
great theatres, when the ting-ting of the prompter's bell is heard,
a great inverted tub has been placed just above it.
"'Ting-ting!' and the little iron chandelier suddenly rose at
least half a yard and disappeared in the tub; and that was the sign
that the play was going to begin. A young nobleman and his lady, who
happened to be passing through the little town, were present at the
performance, and consequently the house was crowded. But under the
chandelier was a vacant space like a little crater: not a single
soul sat there, for the tallow was dropping, drip, drip! I saw
everything, for it was so warm in there that every loophole had been
opened. The male and female servants stood outside, peeping through
the chinks, although a real policeman was inside, threatening them
with a stick. Close by the orchestra could be seen the noble young
couple in two old arm-chairs, which were usually occupied by his
worship the mayor and his lady; but these latter were to-day obliged
to content themselves with wooden forms, just as if they had been
ordinary citizens; and the lady observed quietly to herself, 'One
sees, now, that there is rank above rank;' and this incident gave an
air of extra festivity to the whole proceedings. The chandelier gave
little leaps, the crowd got their knuckles rapped, and I, the Moon,
was present at the performance from beginning to end."