e the tongue of her adopted country very fluently.

"You put great heart into us, Monsieur. But when you speak of success,
I remember that we have earned just about three shillings to-night."

Peron, the optimist, waved his hand airily. "Look up to the stars, my
child, and hope. I have a little influence left yet. Perhaps I can put
you on the right track; take you at least out of these miserable
streets. Sit down for another ten minutes; make a second supper if you
like." He guessed that they had not fully satisfied their hunger.

But this they resolutely declined. He waved them to their chairs.

"Five minutes, then. Tell me a little something of your history. I am
sure it has been a tragic one."

And Corsini, departing from his usual mood of reticence, imparted to
the old Frenchman the details of his career.

His father, the elder Corsini, had been first violin at the Politeama
Theatre in Florence, while comparatively a young man. He had
quarrelled violently with the manager and been dismissed. Confident in
his ability, he had come over to England to seek his fortune afresh.
Here he had met and fallen violently in love with a young English
girl, some few years his junior. She was a pianist by profession, in
a small way. She attended at dances, played accompaniments at City
dinners. Her income was a very meagre one. She was the product of one
of the numerous schools that turn out such performers by the dozen.

They married, and Corsini soon discovered that he was not the
great man he imagined himself to be. Also, he was of a frail and
weakly constitution. Ten years after his marriage he died of rapid
consumption. Madame Corsini was left with two children on her hands.

She was a devoted mother. Nello dwelt on this episode of their sad
life with tears in his eyes. She worked hard for a miserable pittance;
and then she was worn out with the strain. Nello and his sister,
Anita, were left orphans. Nello had been taught the rudiments of the
violin by his father; all the rest he had picked up himself.

After his mother's death the rest was a nightmare. He had done his
best for himself and his sister. That best had landed them in this
snow-laden street to-night.

Papa Peron listened quietly to this young violinist's recital, but he
made little comment. Here was one of the numerous tragedies that were
occurring every day in every populous city.

He rose and shook hands with the two. "You have a lodging to go to, my