her that my father was a great musician who could master the most
difficult things at the first hearing."

"The most difficult! Hm... that depends," said the old man. "Did she
show it you?"

"No; it is something in the style of Linus and she sang it to us."

"The daughter of the rich Porphyrius sang for your entertainment?
Yours?" said Karnis laughing. "By Sirius! The world is turning upside
down. Now that girls are forbidden to perform to the gentlefolks, art is
being cultivated by the upper classes; it cannot be killed outright. For
the future the listeners will be paid to keep quiet and the singers pay
for the right of torturing their ears--our ears, our luckless ears will
be victimized."

Orpheus smiled and shook his head; then, again dropping his knife, he
went on eagerly:

"But if you could only hear her! You would give your last copper piece
to hear her again."

"Indeed!" muttered his father. "Well, there are very good teachers
here. Something by Linus did you say she sang?"

"Something of that kind; a lament for the dead of very great power:
'Return, oh! return my beloved, came back--come home!' that was the
burthen of it. And there was a passage which said: 'Oh that each tear
had a voice and could join with me in calling thee!" And how she sang
it, father! I do not think I ever in my life heard anything like it.