The
scarlet collars are more extravagant even than the white cloth ones, as
white may be cleaned at least once with gasoline, but scarlet is too
delicate, and the slightest perspiration makes a lasting stain. This was
all before the war, though, and perhaps the dazzling uniforms have given
place for ever to dull khaki. If so Germany is the drabber, for the
colour was a thing to make one's heart leap. In Darmstadt the first four
rows in the orchestra were reserved for officers at reduced rates, and
that beautiful border of colour always framed the stage in a brilliant
band on opera nights.

In Metz the rule against appearing in "Civil" on the street was very
strict, and F---- used to come to see us in a full set of tennis
flannels brandishing a racket, though he had never played in his life!
In Darmstadt the same strictness prevailed. A friend of ours, a Major
holding a very high position, had to dodge round corners, when he was
out of uniform, in case the terrible General Plueskow should see him,
and order him twenty-four hours' room arrest! By the way, when General
Plueskow, who was about six feet seven, was in France as a young man,
the French made a quip about him, "Who is the tallest officer in the
German army?" was the question, and the answer was "Plueskow, because he
is _Plus que haut_."

CHAPTER XVIII

GEESE AND GUESTS

I was on the whole very happy in Darmstadt. All the leading contralto
work came to me by right, and it was brightened by an occasional role in
operetta. They found they could use me for smart ladies in such things
as "Dollar Prinzessin," and I greatly enjoyed the dancing and gaiety of
those performances. We had many operas in the repertoire that are seldom
or never heard of in this country, "Evangelimann," "Hans Heiling,"
"Sieben Schwaben," all the Lortzings, "Undine," "Wildschuetz," "Zar und
Zimmermann," "Weisse Dame," etc. Such things as "Fra Diavolo," and
"Lustige Weiber," were always delightful to play.

We gave "Koenigskinder" the first year it was brought out in Germany.
Our clever Kempin designed charming sets for it, lit in the modern way,
and the soprano, though a plain little thing, had a heavenly sympathetic
voice, with a floating quality most appealing in the high part. During
the _Premiere_ at the end of the last act, just as we were taking our
calls from an enthusiastic public, a strange bearded man stepped out of
the wings and joined us. Humperdinck, of course, whom