rfectly still up there;
but to-day it goes tramp, tramp, every few minutes, and somebody plays,
and then it stops again for a little while."

"A friend of mine has his studio just over us," answered the sculptor;
"a battle-painter, Herr Rosenbusch. If he can't make his work go to
please him, he takes up his flute and walks up and down like that, and
plays, and buries himself in thought. And then he stops in front of his
easel and looks at his picture; and so goes on until he hits upon what
he is after. But what are you laughing at, Zenz?"

"Only at his name. Rosenbusch![1] And paints battles!--Is he a Jew?"

"I don't think so. But now if you want to rest a little while--your
neck must be perfectly stiff by this time."

She let go the rod at once, and sprang down from the bench. While he
was polishing with his modeling-tool the portion he had just finished,
she stood close by him, her arms crossed behind her with a lightness
peculiar to her figure, and looked closely at the beautiful statue,
which within the last hour had made such obvious progress. But only in
the upper half; for the active hips and limbs of the dancer, only
hidden by her long, flowing hair, were only very roughly outlined.

"Are you satisfied, child?" asked the artist. "But then I can only, at
the best, work it out in marble for you, and you are really a better
bit for a painter. That snow-white skin and flaming mane of yours--if
you had lived two thousand years ago, when they made statues of gold
and ivory, you would have been just in your proper place."

"Gold and ivory?" she repeated, thoughtfully. "Those must have been
rich people! However, I am satisfied for my part with the beautiful
white marble--like the young gentleman there behind, that you didn't
finish."

"Do you like him? It was a long while ago that I began that bust. Isn't
it fine, how the small, firm, round head springs from the broad
shoulders? It's a pity that I only sketched out the face; you would
have liked that too."

"Are you going to make my portrait too, there in the clay? I mean, so
that it will be just like me--so that my friends will say at once 'That
is Red Zenz?'"

"That depends. I could use your little nose and your small, sharp-cut
ears well enough. But you know, child, I had quite another wish; and,
if you will fulfill that, I'll make the face so that no human being
will ever dream that Red Zenz was my model. Have you thought it
over--what I asked you a week