The services of the day would soon begin, and Hans had set his heart on Gottlieb's singing that very day in the cathedral. The choir-master's eyes sparkled as he listened to the boy; but he was an austere man, and would not utter a word to make the child think himself of value. "Not bad raw material," he said, "but very raw. I suppose thou hast never before sung a note to any one who understood music?" "Only for the mother and the little sister," the child replied in a low, humbled tone, beginning to fear the raven would bring no bread after all, "and sometimes in the litanies and the processions." "Sing no more for babes and nurses, and still less among the beggars in the street-processions," pronounced the master, severely. "It strains and vulgarizes the tone. And, with training, I don't know but that, after all, we might make something of thee--in time, in time." Gottlieb's anxiety mastered his timidity, and he ventured to say: "Gracious lord! if it is a long time, how can we all wait? I thought it would be to-day! The mother wants the bread to-day." Something in the child's earnest face touched the master, and he said, more gently: "I did not say you might not _begin_ to-day. You must begin this hour, this moment. Too much time has been lost already." And at once he set about the first lesson, scolding and growling about the child setting his teeth like a dog, and mincing his words like a fine lady, till poor Gottlieb's hopes more than once sank very low. But, at the end of a quarter of an hour's practice, the artist in the choir-master entirely overcame the diplomatist. He behaved like a madman. He took the child in his arms and hugged him, like a friendly bear; he set him on the table and made him sing one phrase again and again, walking round and round him, and rubbing his hands and laughing with delight; and, finally, he seized him and bore him in triumph to the kitchen, and said to his housekeeper: "Ursula, bring out the finest goose and the best preserves and puddings you have. We must feast the whole choir, and, may be, the dean and chapter. The archduke and the young archduchess will be here at Easter. But we shall be ready for them. Those beggarly Cistercians haven't a chance. The lad has the voice of an angel, and the ear--the ear--well, an ear as good as my own." "The child may well have the voice of an angel," scolded old Ursula; "he is like to be among the angels soon enough." For the hope, and the fear, and the joy had quite overcome the child, enfeebled as he was by meager fare; his lips were quite pale, and his cheeks. Moreover, the last order of the choir-master had not been quite re-assuring to him. The fat goose and the puddings were good, indeed; but he would have preferred his mother and Lenichen being feasted in his honor, rather than the choir and the chapter.