er hot cheeks, she moved with eager diligence.

The image of a vivacious, early developed child had impressed itself upon
Wolf's mind. Now he stood before a maiden in the full bloom of her
charms, whose superb symmetry of figure surprised and stirred him to the
depths of his nature.

In spite of her immature youth, he had cherished her in his inmost heart.
youth, she confronted him as an entirely new and doubly desirable
creature. The quiet longing which had mastered him was transformed into
passionate yearning, but he restrained it by exerting all the strength of
will peculiar to him, for a voice within cried out that he was too
insignificant for this marvellous maiden.

But when she dipped the tips of her fingers into the dainty little bowl,
which he had once given her for a birthday present, sprinkled the linen
with water, and meanwhile sang in fresh, clear notes the 'ut, re, me, fa,
sol, la' of Perissone Cambio's singing lesson, new wonder seized him.
What compass, what power, what melting sweetness the childish voice
against whose shrillness his foster-father and he himself had zealously
struggled now possessed! Neither songstress nor member of the boy choir
whom he had heard in Italy or the Netherlands could boast of such
bell-like purity of tone! He was a connoisseur, and yet it seemed as
though every tone which he heard had received the most thorough
cultivation.

Who in Ratisbon could have been her teacher? To whom did she owe this
masterly training? As if by a miracle, he knew not whether from looking
or listening, he found a combination of notes which he had long been
seeking for the motet on which he was working. When he had registered it,
and she sang a few passages from it, what an exquisite delight awaited
him! But what should he do now? Ought he to surprise her in this way? It
would certainly have been proper to be first announced by her father; but
he could not bring himself even to stir a foot. Beads of perspiration
stood upon his brow. Panting for breath, he seized his handkerchief to
wipe it, and in doing so the roll of velvet which he had held under his
arm fell on the floor.

Wolf stooped, and, ere he had straightened himself again, he heard
Barbara call in a questioning tone, "Father?" and saw her put down the
iron and stand listening.

Then, willing or not, he was obliged to announce his presence, and, with
a timid "It is I, Wolf," he approached the little bow-windowed room and
hesitatingl