r, after having rested for a few minutes, went on,--

"The man who picked up Sarah was an old German artist, painter and
musician both, of rare genius, but a maniac, as they called him. At all
events, he was a good, an excellent man.

"One winter morning, as he was at work in his studio, he was struck by
the strange ring in a woman's voice, which recited in the court-yard
below a popular song. He went to the window, and beckoned the singer to
come up. It was Sarah; and she came. The good German used often to speak
of the deep compassion which seized him as he saw this tall girl of
fourteen come into his studio,--a child, stained by vice already, thin
like hunger itself, and shivering in her thin calico dress. But he was
at the same time almost dazzled by the rich promises of beauty in her
face, the pure notes of her superb voice, which had withstood so far,
and the surprising intelligence beaming in her features.

"He guessed what there was in her; he saw her, in his mind's eye, such
as she was to be at twenty.

"Then he asked her how she had come to be reduced to such misery, who
she was, where her parents lived, and what they did for a living. When
she had told him that she stood quite alone, and was dependent on no
one, he said to her,--

"'Well, if you will stay with me, I will adopt you; you shall be my
daughter; and I will make you an eminent artist.'

"The studio was warm, and it was bitterly cold outside. Sarah had no
roof over her head, and had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. She
accepted.

"She accepted, be it understood, not doubting, in her perversity, but
that this kind old man had other intentions besides those he mentioned
in offering her a home. She was mistaken. He recognized in her
marvellous talents, and thought of nothing but of making of her a true
marvel, which should astonish the world. He devoted himself heart and
soul to his new favorite, with all the enthusiastic ardor of an artist,
and all the jealous passion of an amateur.

"It was a hard task, however, which he had undertaken. Sarah could not
even read. She knew nothing, except sin.

"How the old German went to work to keep this untamable vagabond at
home, how he made her bend to his will, and submit to his lessons, no
one will ever be able to tell. It was long a problem for me also. Some
of the neighbors told me that he treated her harshly, beating her often
brutally; but neither threats nor blows were apt to make an impressi