"Do you think I have sent for you to hear the air which is put down in the programme?" continued the Italian, playfully. "The audience always desires this air _da capo_; it is too trying for a repetition; I propose, therefore, instead of this, to sing--something else." A deep glow covered the young man's features, and he stretched out his hand, as if with an unconscious movement, towards the paper. "For mercy's sake! surely not my song?" "You are uncommonly alarmed about it," said the singer, stepping back, and withdrawing the music from him. "Are you afraid for the fate of your work in my hands?" "No, no!" cried Reinhold passionately, "but--" "But? No objections, Signor! The song is dedicated to me, is handed over to me for good or evil. I shall do with it what I choose. Only one more question. The director is quite prepared; we have practised the performance together, but I should prefer seeing you at the piano when I appear before the audience with your music. May I count upon you?" "You will trust yourself to my accompaniment?" asked Reinhold, with trembling voice. "Trust yourself entirely without first trying it? That is a risk for us both." "Only if your courage fail, not otherwise," explained Beatrice. "With your power over the piano I have already made acquaintance, and there is certainly no question as to whether you are sure of the accompaniment to your work. If you are as sure of yourself before this audience as you were lately at the party, we can perform the song without hesitation." "I will risk all, if you are at my side," Reinhold exclaimed, passionately. "The song was written for you, Signora. If you decide differently for it, its fate lies in your hand. I am ready for all." She answered only with a smile, proud and confident of success, and turned to the conductor who at that moment drew near. Then ensued a low, but lively conversation in the group, and the other gentlemen regarded with undisguised displeasure the young stranger who quite monopolised the attention and conversation of the Signora and, to their great annoyance, occupied her until the signal for the commencement of the concert was given. The room, in the meanwhile, had filled to the very last seat, and the dazzlingly-lighted place, in conjunction with the rich toilets of the ladies, offered a brilliant sight. Consul Erlau's wife sat with several other ladies in the front part of the room, and was engaged in conversation with Dr. Welding, when her husband, accompanied by a young man, wearing a captain's uniform, came up to her seat. "Herr Captain Almbach," he said, introducing him, "to whom I owe the rescue of my best ship and all its crew. It was he who came to the help of the 'Hansa,' when already almost foundered, and it is entirely to his self-sacrificing energy--"