and an exceedingly handsome, though (I
thought at first) an unpleasing face. There was something in his
attitude and manner which at first I did not quite like. Anna walked up
the room, and pausing before the estrade, said:

"Herr Direktor!"

He turned: his eyes fell upon her face, and left it instantly to look at
mine. Gathering himself together into a more ceremonious attitude, he
descended from his estrade, and stood beside us, a little to one side,
looking at us with a leisurely calmness which made me feel, I knew not
why, uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Anna took up her parable.

"May I introduce the young lady? Miss Wedderburn, Herr Musik-Direktor
von Francius. Miss Wedderburn wishes to join the verein, if you think
her voice will pass. Perhaps you will allow her to sing to-night?"

"Certainly, _mein Fraeulein_," said he to me, not to Anna. He had a long,
rather Jewish-looking face, black hair, eyes, and mustache. The features
were thin, fine, and pointed. The thing which most struck me then, at
any rate, was a certain expression which, conquering all others,
dominated them--at once a hardness and a hardihood which impressed me
disagreeably then, though I afterward learned, in knowing the man, to
know much more truly the real meaning of that unflinching gaze and iron
look.

"Your voice is what, _mein Fraeulein_?" he asked.

"Soprano."

"Sopran? We will see. The soprani sit over there, if you will have the
goodness."

He pointed to the left of the orchestra, and called out to the
melancholy-looking young man, "Herr Schonfeld, a chair for the young
lady!"

Herr von Francius then ascended the orchestra himself, went to the
piano, and, after a few directions, gave us the signal to begin. Till
that day--I confess it with shame--I had never heard of the "Verlorenes
Paradies." It came upon me like a revelation. I sung my best,
substituting _do_, _re_, _mi_, etc., for the German words. Once or
twice, as Herr von Francius's forefinger beat time, I thought I saw his
head turn a little in our direction, but I scarcely heeded it. When the
first chorus was over, he turned to me:

"You have not sung in a chorus before?"

"No."

"So! I should like to hear you sing something _sola_." He pushed toward
me a pile of music, and while the others stood looking on and whispering
among themselves, he went on, "Those are all sopran songs. Select one,
if you please, and try it."

Not at all aware that the incident was considere