I passed the whole of the next morning studying my part, and it was afternoon before I again met the accomplished stranger. With a pleasant smile, and easy, self-satisfied air, he told me he had settled everything, and should have the honour of appearing that evening as my unsuccessful rival for the hand of the fair Amelia Wildenhain. He had procured an introduction to the marshal, (he did not say through whom,) and that nobleman, delighted to recruit an efficient actor in lieu of a stop-gap, had proposed calling a morning rehearsal; but this the new representative of Von der Mulde declared to be quite unnecessary. He was perfectly familiar with the part, and undertook not to miss a word. The hour of performance came. The little theatre was thronged with Klein-Fleckenbergers, noble and gentle, from country and town. The duke and duchess made their appearance, and were greeted by a flourish of trumpets, whilst the audience rose in a body to welcome them. Count Von der Mulde dressed at the hotel, and did not appear in the greenroom till towards the close of that portion of the play in which he had nothing to do. In the fifth scene of the second act he made his entrance, and almost embarrassed Wildenhain and Amelia by the great spirit and naturalness of his acting. Kotzebue himself can hardly have conceived the part more vividly and characteristically than the stranger rendered it. "I have scarcely recovered myself yet, dear Mr Ehrmann," said the Princess Theresa to me, between the acts. "The count quite frightened me. I could not help fancying it was the real Von der Mulde." The completeness of the illusion was undeniable. The jests of the portly boar-hunter, in the part of the butler, passed unperceived, amidst the admiration excited by the count, who bewailed the pomatum-pot, forgotten by his servant, as though it were his best friend he had been compelled to leave behind, and whose eyes actually glistened with tears as he whined forth his apprehensions that unsavoury German mice would devour the most delicate perfume France had ever produced. The question passed round, amongst actors and audience, who this admirable performer was, and the duke himself sent behind the scenes to make the inquiry. "A Livonian gentleman," was the reply, "who would shortly have the honour to pay his respects to his highness."