d unprecedented, and was
creating a sensation, I turned over the music, seeking something I knew,
but could find nothing. All in German, and all strange. Suddenly I came
upon one entitled "Blute nur, liebes Herz," the sopran solo which I had
heard as I sat with Courvoisier in the cathedral. It seemed almost like
an old friend. I opened it, and found it had also English words. That
decided me.

"I will try this," said I, showing it to him.

He smiled. "_'S ist gut!_" Then he read the title off the song aloud,
and there was a general titter, as if some very great joke were in
agitation, and were much appreciated. Indeed I found that in general
the jokes of the Herr Direktor, when he condescended to make any, were
very keenly relished by at least the lady part of his pupils.

Not understanding the reason of the titter I took the music in my hand,
and waiting for a moment until he gave me the signal, sung it after the
best wise I could--not very brilliantly, I dare say, but with at least
all my heart poured into it. I had one requisite at least of an artist
nature--I could abstract myself upon occasion completely from my
surroundings. I did so now. It was too beautiful, too grand. I
remembered that afternoon at Koeln--the golden sunshine streaming through
the painted windows, the flood of melody poured forth by the invisible
singer; above all, I remembered who had been by my side, and I felt as
if again beside him--again influenced by the unusual beauty of his face
and mien, and by his clear, strange, commanding eyes. It all came back
to me--the strangest, happiest day of my life. I sung as I had never
sung before--as I had not known I could sing.

When I stopped, the tittering had ceased; silence saluted me. The young
ladies were all looking at me; some of them had put on their
eye-glasses; others stared at me as if I were some strange animal from a
menagerie. The young gentlemen were whispering among themselves and
taking sidelong glances at me. I scarcely heeded anything of it. I fixed
my eyes upon the judge who had been listening to my performance--upon
von Francius. He was pulling his mustache and at first made no remark.

"You have sung that song before, _gnaediges Fraeulein_?"

"No. I have heard it once. I have not seen the music before."

"So!" He bowed slightly, and turning once more to the others, said:

"We will begin the next chorus. 'Chorus of the Damned,' Now, _meine
Herrschaften_, I would wish to impr