director, who had never even heard my voice, had been a
well-known Wagnerian singer in his day and intended to take some of the
principal baritone roles in his new position, to the intense disgust of
the regular _Heldenbariton_. All the outstanding contracts had been
taken over in his name. This sudden change of management, during
vacation time, made a little trouble for me as it happened. None of the
present staff had heard me sing. They knew only that I was a foreigner
without experience, heard that my conversational German was not yet
perfect (a much rarer accomplishment than a perfect accent in singing),
and therefore doubted my ability to do the work of the first contralto.
So they had engaged a native, which meant that it was "up to me" to
prove myself capable at the first opportunity or lose the chance of
doing first roles or perhaps be dismissed altogether.

Our hotel was impossible for a long stay, and, of course, after my
Berlin experience, my first idea was a good German pension. We went to
the _Verkehrsverein_--the Information Bureau which is a feature of all
German towns, and asked for a pension address. The man in charge shook
his head. There was only one such place, he said, and he feared that it
would not suit us, but we might go and see. We went accordingly, and
found a nice-enough looking house in the newest quarter, quite the other
side of the town from the theatre. The inside of the house, however,
told its own story--concrete floors, whitewashed walls with garish
religious prints on them, and deal furniture with red and white table
covers much in evidence. The bedrooms were cell-like and garnished with
mottoes, while a Bible and candlestick by each bedside were the only
other decorations.

"What is this institution?" we asked.

"It is the German Young Ladies Evangelical Home, for Protestants only,"
we were told.

We thanked the Matron, and decided that we were neither German,
Evangelical nor young enough for such a home, even though we might be
ladies and Protestants.

Disappointed in our hope of finding a pension, we returned to our
friend of the Information Bureau, this time to ask for addresses of
furnished rooms with a decent landlady to attend to them for us. He
shook his head once more--it was very difficult in a garrison town, he
said, to be certain of the character of a house which had furnished
rooms to let.

"But where do the artists of the theatres usually live?" we asked.

"Oh!