"I fear you have already been subjected to the examination of which I warned you. All the same, the company was charmed with your performance." "Perhaps!" said the young man, half-contemptuously, "and yet it certainly was not intended for the company." "Not! and for whom, then?" asked Signora Biancona, directing her glance firmly towards him. And he looked at her; there seemed to be something alike in both pairs of eyes which now met one another--both large, dark, and mysterious. In Almbach's glance, too, shone the same light as in the actress'; here also burned an ardent, passionate soul; also here, in the depths, slumbered the demonlike spark which is so often the heritage of genial natures, and becomes their curse when no protecting hand restrains it, and when it is fanned into flame, then no more brings light, but only destruction. He came a step nearer and lowered his voice; its great excitement, however, still betrayed itself. "Only for her, who, for me and for us all, a few hours since, embodied the highest beauty and the highest poetry, borne by the notes of an undying master-work. You have been worshipped a thousand-fold to-day, Signora. All that enthusiasm could offer was laid at your feet. The stranger, the unknown, also wished to tell you how much he admired you, and he did it in the language which alone is worthy of you. It is not quite strange to me either." In his admiration there lay something that raised it above all flattery, the tone of real true enthusiasm, and Signora Biancona was actress enough to recognise this tone, woman enough to suspect what was hidden beneath it; she smiled with enchanting grace. "I have seen, indeed, how very fluent you are in this language. Shall I not often hear it from you?" "Hardly," said the young man, gloomily. "You return, as I hear, to Italy shortly, I--remain here in the North. Who knows if we shall ever meet again." "Our manager intends to remain here until May," interrupted the Signora, quickly. "So our meeting to-day will surely not be our last? Certainly not--I count positively on seeing you again." "Signora!" This passionate outbreak of Almbach's lasted only for a second. Suddenly a recollection or warning seemed to shoot through him; he drew back and bowed low and distantly. "I fear it must be the last--farewell, Signora." He was gone before it was possible for the singer to utter one word regarding this strange adieu, and he seemed to be in earnest about it, as not once during the whole evening did he approach the dangerous "circle of the sun." CHAPTER II. "That is too bad. This mania really begins to surpass all limits. I must forbid Reinhold all cultivation of music if he continues to pursue it in so senseless a manner." With these words, the merchant Almbach opened a family council, which took place in the parlour, in his wife's and daughter's presence, and at which, fortunately, the special object of the same did not assist.