‘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.