The promised miracle came on the following morning at nine. Svirski was dressed and waiting with impatience and nervousness; happily his fears proved unfounded. The first glance satisfied him. The model was tall, slender, very graceful; she had a small head, a delicate face, a beautiful structure of forehead, long eyelashes, and great freshness of complexion. But, beyond all, Svirski was charmed by this, that she had "her own" style of face, and in her expression there was something girl-like. "She has noble movements," thought he; "and if she is formed as she seems, then 'Eureka!' I will engage her for a long time, and take her with me." He was struck also by her timidity and a look, as it were, of fright. He knew, it is true, that models sometimes feign timidity. He admitted, however, that this one did not. "What is thy name, my child?" asked he. "Maria Cervi." "Art thou from Nice?" "From Nice." "Hast ever been a model?" "No, sir." "Trained models know what is needed; with new ones there is trouble. Thou hast never been a model in thy life?" "No, sir." "How didst thou get the wish to be a model?" She hesitated, and blushed somewhat. "Pani Lageat told me that I should be able to earn something." "True, but evidently thou art afraid. What dost thou fear? I will not eat thee! How much dost thou ask for a sitting?" "Pani Lageat told me that you would pay five francs." "Pani Lageat was mistaken. I pay ten." Joy gleamed in the girl's face, and her cheeks grew still redder. "When must I begin?" asked she, with a somewhat trembling voice. "To-day, immediately," answered Svirski, pointing to the picture already begun. "There is the screen; go behind, undress to the waist only. Thou wilt sit for the head, the bosom, and a part of the stomach." She turned to him an astonished face; her hands dropped slowly along her dress. "How is that, sir?" asked she, looking at him with terrified eyes. "My child," answered the artist, a little impatiently, "I understand that it may be difficult the first time. But either thou art a model, or thou art not. I need the head, the bosom, and a part of the stomach; I need these absolutely; dost thou understand? And be sure, at the same time, that there is nothing bad in me; but, first of all, think it over--and quickly; for, if thou art not willing, I shall look for another." He spoke as a man somewhat vexed; for in his mind the point was that just she should be the model, and that he should not have to look for another. Meanwhile silence came. The model grew pale very evidently; still, after a while, she went behind the screen. Svirski fell to pushing the easel toward the window, with a noise, thinking, meanwhile,-- "She will gain the habit, and in a week will laugh at her scruples." Next, he arranged the sofa on which the model was to lie, took his brush, and began to grow impatient. "Well, how is it? Art thou ready?" Silence. "Well, make up thy mind. What jokes are these?"