Here Avice, who had been listening intently, and who had just realised what it was all about, chimed in: ‘Oh, do, Sara!—do!’ ‘Thank you, _mein Fräulein_, for taking my side,’ exclaimed Frau Goldmark, quickly. ‘What are the pictures you wish me to take part in?’ asked Sara. ‘Have you decided upon them?’ ‘_Natürlich, mein Fräulein._ They are the two principal ones—a scene from Kleist’s _Hermannsschlacht_, after the celebrated picture in the public gallery, with you for Thusnelda, and Herr Max Helmuth, Fräulein Wilhelmi’s _Bräutigam_, as Hermann; and the last picture of my blessed _Mann_; his _Ja, oder Nein_, which is still hanging unsold in the Exhibition.’ Sara was silent, pondering. She knew both the pictures. Frau Goldmark proceeded: ‘Professor Wilhelmi bade me come to you myself, for he said you would do that for the poor and afflicted which you would not for the prosperous and happy.’ ‘Are you sure that everyone wishes it?’ asked Miss Ford. ‘As certain as I am that I am here,’ was the emphatic reply, ‘_Denken sie nur, Fräulein!_ When the scheme was first proposed Amalia Waldschmidt vowed she would have the part of the lady in my husband’s picture—she, the stupid, heavy—but pardon! I ought to be grateful to all; only the Herr Professor quite agreed with me that she was the last person to take such a part. She has no _Geist_, no _Gefühl_. How can she give to the picture the expression it requires? But she made a point of taking that part; they say, because she is so anxious to act with Ludwig Maas, who takes the part of the bold but poor lover.’ Seeing a strong expression of distaste and disapproval upon Miss Ford’s face, Frau Goldmark went on quickly: ‘And you know, _liebstes Fräulein_, her father is a man whom we dare not offend, and _die_ Amalia rules him with a rod of iron.’ Sara bowed assent to this proposition. It was evident that to the excited little widow this great entertainment formed the representative event of the modern world. ‘Imagine!’ she went on, ‘Amalia is suddenly taken ill with _scharlach-fieber_—scarlet fever you call it. Yes, it is so; and it is providential. Naturally she cannot act the part, nor even appear at the _lebende Bilder_, for which _Gott sei dank_! though I know it is very wrong of me to say so. And I hope she will have the fever mildly and make a speedy recovery; but ah, I am glad she comes not; and I do _pray_ of you, dear Miss Ford, to take the part, and also that of Thusnelda. I shall bless you all my life if you only will.’ ‘I will take the parts, Frau Goldmark, and will do my best to act them well,’ said Sara, composedly, anxious to put an end to the widow’s exaggerated prayers and protestations. Her consent was received with a perfect whirlwind of thanks and blessings and expressions of joy, which she cut short by saying: ‘But I beg you will not say anything comparing me with Fräulein Waldschmidt. It would be very wrong, and if I heard of such a thing I should instantly give it up.’