of this combination of word and music they imagine
they can affect and impress a calloused mind. Sir," he concluded at
last, half exhausted, "speech is as necessary to man as food, but we
should also preserve undefiled the nectar meted out by God."

I could scarcely believe it was the same man, so animated had he become.
He paused for a moment. "Where did I stop in my story?" he asked
finally. "Oh yes, at the song and my attempt to imitate it. But I didn't
succeed. I stepped to the open window in order to hear better. The
singer was just crossing the court. She had her back turned to me, yet
she seemed familiar to me. She was carrying a basket with what looked
like pieces of cake dough. She entered a little gate in the corner of
the court, where there probably was an oven, for while she continued her
song, I heard her rattling some wooden utensils, her voice sounding
sometimes muffled, sometimes clear, like the voice of one who bends down
and sings into a hollow space and then rises again and stands in an
upright position. After a while she came back, and only now I discovered
why she had seemed familiar to me before. I had actually known her for
some time, for I had seen her in the chancery office.

"My acquaintance with her was made like this: The office hours began
early and extended beyond noon. Several of the younger employees, who
either actually had an appetite or else wanted to kill a half hour, were
in the habit of taking a light lunch about eleven o'clock. The
tradespeople, who know how to turn everything to their advantage, saved
the gourmands a walk and brought their wares into the office building,
where they took up their position on the stairs and in the corridors. A
baker sold rolls, a costermonger vended cherries. Certain cakes,
however, which were baked by the daughter of a grocer in the vicinity
and sold while still hot, were especially popular.

"Her customers stepped out into the corridor to her; and only rarely,
when bidden, did she venture into the office itself, which she was asked
to leave the moment the rather peevish director caught sight of her--a
command that she obeyed only with reluctance and mumbling angry words.

"Among my colleagues the girl did not pass for a beauty. They considered
her too small, and were not able to determine the color of her hair.
Some there were who denied that she had cat's eyes, but all agreed that
she was pock-marked. Of her buxom figure all spoke with enthusi