"Like an angel! Ah, madam, every time I hear such singing the tears start from my eyes." And the sensitive youth put his handkerchief to his eyes again. Then he departed without saying another word to Dame Kramm.
The whole week through Dame Kramm was tortured by curiosity. What could be amiss with this mysterious youth? Would he come again on the following Sunday?
And come again he did, and now they greeted one another like old acquaintances.
"Look ye, madam," said the young gentleman, with a mournful countenance, "ten years ago I had a sweetheart, a betrothed, who used to sing the 'Stabat Mater' with just such a beautiful voice; it makes me actually think that I can hear her now. She died on the very day fixed for our wedding. On her death-bed she made me promise that if ever I found a poor young lady who could sing these divine canticles with just such a beautiful voice as she had, I was, in memory of her, to devote every year the sum of three thousand florins to enable such young lady to cultivate to the utmost her noble art, and thus secure for herself a happy future. I only imposed one condition before consenting to my betrothed's desire: I insisted that the young lady in question should be just as pure, just as innocent, as was my beloved, my never-to-be-forgotten Maria!" And the young man again applied his pocket-handkerchief to his eyes.
"What genuine grief!" thought the old lady to herself.
"I must regretfully confess, madam," pursued the young dandy, in a shaky voice, "that I have not been able to carry out the desire of my deceased bride. So far as natural gifts are concerned, there were heaps and heaps of candidates, but in the way of virtue they all failed me. I think of them with shame, and yet there are some among them whom the world has loaded with its applause. And every fresh attempt has proved a fresh illusion."
And here he again broke off the conversation, and left Madam Kramm to cogitate upon this strange story for another week. She said not a word about it to any one.
On the following Sunday, Abellino again made his appearance. He kept silence till the singing was quite over, but it was clear from his face that there was something he would very much have liked to ask, had he not been too shy to do so. At last, however, he constrained himself to speak.
"Pardon me for troubling you with such a question, madam, and do not take it ill of me; but do you not know the singer personally? I have so many times been deceived in my benevolent intentions that I scarce dare to approach any one without making preliminary inquiries. I have heard the most astonishing reports of this young woman's family, which seem to prove that virtue is in no very great request there."