here as
she could just walk in without my having to ask for a seat, while my
mother sat in state in a specially reserved seat in the orchestra, for
which I had to ask each time. The oldest mothers and the _Souffleuse's_
sister used to be an unending joy to my sister, in their comments. The
order of their seats was theirs by divine right, they thought, and woe
betide some comparatively new-comer who would venture to take one-eyed
Frau S----'s or fat Frau W----'s chair. It was called the _Raben's
Nest_ (the raven's nest), and we felt its influence hanging over us on
the stage. I was quite familiar with the remarks that were made nightly:

"_Ach! unsere Kaethe spielt ja Heute!_" ("Oh! our little Katy plays
tonight"), the mother of Katy would announce rapturously, and settle
down with her chin on the rail, and her back bent like a jack-knife,
for three hours of proud but critical joy. She had probably toiled most
of the night with her little seamstress to turn out the marvels Kaethe
wore.

There are certain props that lend an unfailing air of gorgeousness to
the provincial German mind, whether viewed from in front of, or behind
the footlights. An aigrette does duty for years and has a sure-fire
elegance; pinned on a winter hat of black velvet, or a summer leghorn,
or worn with a bow in an evening coiffure, you know its wearer belongs
to the most exclusive social set. Our coiffeur had only one eye, but
used to bring that one as close as possible to the head of her victim
and make it do duty for two. She turned out wonderful puffs and curls.
In "Dollar Prinzessin" I introduced a new style of hair dressing from
Paris: the hair parted, and a multitude of close curls at the back of
the head, the whole surrounded by a rather broad band of ribbon of the
shade one desired. This took Darmstadt by storm, and was repeated for
two years in every conceivable version. The curls I am sorry to say,
turned into tight sausages, but how much more _praktisch_! Couldn't the
curls then be worn at least three times without being re-dressed?

A lorgnon is of course "Hoch elegant," also quite irresistibly snorty,
if you are playing an elderly Duchess type of person. If you read that
tunics are worn in Paris you put them on all your gowns, though they
may be hideously unbecoming to you. Even the time-honoured
hat-on-the-back-of-the-head outline had to be renounced one season, and
every one peered out at you from a hat or toque brim almost down on