wfully long. Four bits altogether, if they don't guess from
the syllables," objected Solomon wearily.

Rapidly planning farcical scenes for the syllables she carried her
tired troupe to a vague appreciation of the final tableau for Ulrica.
Shrouding the last syllable beyond recognition, she sent a messenger to
the audience through the hall door of the saal to beg for Ulrica.

Ulrica came, serenely wondering, her great eyes alight with her
evening's enjoyment and was induced by Miriam.

"You've only to stand and look down-nothing else." To mount the
schoolroom table in the dimness and standing with her hands on the back
of a draped chair to gaze down at Romeo's upturned face.

Bertha Martin's pale profile, with her fair hair drawn back and tied at
the nape of her neck and a loose cloak round her shoulders would, it was
agreed, make the best presentation of a youth they could contrive, and
Miriam arranged her, turning her upturned face so that the audience
would catch its clear outline. But at the last minute, urged by
Solomon's disapproval of the scene, Bertha withdrew. Miriam put on the
cloak, lifted its collar to hide her hair and standing with her back
to the audience flung up her hands towards Ulrica as the gas behind the
little schoolroom door was turned slowly up. Standing motionless, gazing
at the pale oval face bending gravely towards her from the gloom, she
felt for a moment the radiance of stars above her and heard the rustle
of leaves. Then the guessing voices broke from the saal. "Ach! ach!
Wie schon! Romeo! That is beautifoll. Romeo! Who is our Romeo?" and
Fraulein's smiling, singing, affectionate voice, "Who is Romeo! The
rascal!"

10

Taking the top flight three stairs at a time Miriam reached the garret
first and began running about the room at a quick trot with her fists
closed, arms doubled and elbows back. The high garret looked wonderfully
friendly and warm in the light of her single candle. It seemed full of
approving voices. Perhaps one day she would go on the stage. Eve always
said so.

People always liked her if she let herself go. She would let herself go
more in future at Waldstrasse.

It was so jolly being at Waldstrasse.

"Qu'est-ce que vous avez?" appealed Mademoiselle, laughing at the door
with open face. Miriam continued her trot. Mademoiselle put the candle
down on the dressing-table and began to run, too, in little quick
dancing steps, her wincey skirt bellowing out all r