to cultivate his
decided musical gifts and to perfect himself as a musician.

Irma begged Madame Gunther to sing the song, but she replied that,
while her voice was no longer equal to it, that of the countess was
exactly suited to it. She gave the manuscript to Irma, who read it over
and afterward sang it with rich, full voice, to Madame Gunther's
accompaniment. The composition was pleasing, but full of suggestions of
well-known masters.

Madame Gunther now showed what she meant by practical singing. Irma did
not make the best use of the means at her command, and where there were
faults showed them too plainly. The doctor's wife instructed her in a
simple, unpretentious manner, and Irma remarked that the daughters
ought to feel happy to think that they could hear such singing every
day.

"And this is my son, the most grateful of all listeners," said Madame
Gunther, introducing a handsome young man with a full, brown beard. He
was technical director in a manufactory of chemicals, and had brought a
student with him. Female friends who lived in the neighborhood joined
them soon afterward, and there were merry times on the terrace and in
the garden.

Irma remarked the attentive glances directed upon her. It seemed to her
as if all knew the troubles that filled her soul; she had completely
forgotten how beautiful she was.

"Pardon me, Madame Gunther, for looking at you so," said Irma,
suddenly, "but I am somewhat of a dabbler in plastic art, and when I
notice the contour and color of your head, it seems as if the Holbein
Madonna, of the Dresden Gallery, had come to life and was standing
before me."

"Can you really see the resemblance, at this late day?" asked Madame
Gunther, blushing slightly; "in former days, it was often remarked and
was almost the very first thing my husband said to me in Zurich, now
well-nigh twenty-six years ago. On my mother's side I can trace my
descent from the family of Burgomaster Maier, by whose orders the
picture was originally painted."

Irma was delighted with all that she heard and saw, and especially with
Madame Gunther's reminiscences. While speaking of her own efforts in
the way of art, she looked at the doctor's wife earnestly, and only
wished she were able to model a portrait, in which case Madame Gunther
would have to sit to her. She could not help thinking, at the same
time, that there was a culture which had been handed down from earliest
times: a culture whose history, runn