e only character poorly played was that of Judas. The part of Judas
is really _the_ part of the piece, so far as acting is concerned; but the
exemplary householder who essayed it seemed to have no knowledge or
experience of the ways and methods of bad men. There seemed to be no
side of his character sufficiently in sympathy with wickedness to enable
him to understand and portray it. His amateur attempts at scoundrelism
quite irritated me. It sounds conceited to say so, but I am convinced I
could have given a much more truthful picture of the blackguard myself.

"'Dear, dear me,' I kept on saying under my breath, 'he is doing it all
wrong. A downright unmitigated villain would never go on like that; he
would do so and so, he would look like this, and speak like that, and act
like the other. I know he would. My instinct tells me so.'

"This actor was evidently not acquainted with even the rudiments of
knavery. I wanted to get up and instruct him in them. I felt that there
were little subtleties of rascaldom, little touches of criminality, that
I could have put that man up to, which would have transformed his Judas
from woodenness into breathing life. As it was, with no one in the
village apparently who was worth his salt as a felon to teach him, his
performance was unconvincing, and Judas became a figure to laugh rather
than to shudder at.

"With that exception, the whole company, from Maier down to the donkey,
seemed to be fitted to their places like notes into a master's melody.
It would appear as though, on the banks of the Ammer, the histrionic
artist grew wild."

"They are real actors, all of them," murmurs B. enthusiastically, "the
whole village full; and they all live happily together in one small
valley, and never try to kill each other. It is marvellous!"

At this point, we hear a sharp knock at the door that separates the
before-mentioned ladies' room from our own. We both start and turn pale,
and then look at each other. B. is the first to recover his presence of
mind. Eliminating, by a strong effort, all traces of nervousness from
his voice, he calls out in a tone of wonderful coolness:

"Yes, what is it?"

"Are you in bed?" comes a voice from the other side of the door.

"Yes," answers B. "Why?"

"Oh! Sorry to disturb you, but we shall be so glad when you get up. We
can't go downstairs without coming through your room. This is the only
door. We have been waiting here for two hours,