singers on the platform, and spoke earnestly to the
leader, by whose side he stood. Men came up to them while they were
talking together, and went away again. Suddenly all eyes were turned
towards Eric, and a whispering and a buzzing went through the assembly.
Master Ferdinand, the conductor, tapped with his baton, and his look,
which directed and inspired all, was smiling. There was silence, and in
a tone that won all hearts he said:--

"Our baritone has unfortunately been taken ill, and this gentleman by
my side, who does not wish his name to be mentioned, has kindly offered
to undertake the solos for our absent friend. You, as well as we, will
be grateful to him, and willingly extend to him the requested
indulgence, as he has made no rehearsals with us."

A universal applause was the reply.

The choruses began, and their tones, like the voice of many waters,
moved Roland's soul. Now Eric rose. All hearts were beating. But at the
first tone he uttered, each one of the singers, and each one of the
listeners, looked to his neighbor and nodded. It was a voice, so full,
so deep, so penetrating the heart, that all held their breath as they
listened. And when he had ended, a storm of applause broke forth which
seemed almost to shake the hall.

Eric sat down, and the choruses and then other solo performers sang;
again he rose, and yet again, and his voice seemed to grow still more
powerful, and to penetrate more deeply into the hearts of all.

But how was it with Roland, one of the thousands who listened, and who
were thrilled by the sound of this voice, in the depths of their souls?

The choruses rolled in like billows of the resounding sea, but when
Eric sang, it was as if he stood upon the deck of a noble ship, and
ruled over all; and this voice was so near to Roland in its
friendliness, and yet so nobly exalted! The youth was possessed by that
feeling of blissful, dreamy gladness which music awakes in us,
transplanting it into the depths of our own life, and causing us to
forget our own dreams, and merging our own individual self in the sad
and blissful element of being.

Roland wept; Eric's voice seemed to waft him upwards into an invisible
world, and then the choruses began again, and he seemed to be
transported into a heavenly state of existence.

Roland wanted to tell his neighbor who the man was, for he heard on all
sides questions and conjectures; but he said to himself:--

"No one else knows who he is,