and—­remained in Germany.  Now ensued an active correspondence between them.  Assurances of unchanged affection—­invitations—­laments over the absence of the beloved one—­thwarted wishes—­hopes, etc.—­flew backwards and forwards from Venice to H——­, from H——­ to Venice.  At length Angela came to Germany, and, as is well known, sang with brilliant success as prima donna at the great theatre in F——.  Despite the fact that she was no longer young, she won all hearts by the irresistible charm of her wonderfully splendid singing.  At that time she had not lost her voice in the least degree.  Meanwhile, Antonia had been growing up; and her mother never tired of writing to tell her father how that a singer of the first rank was developing in her.  Krespel’s friends in F——­ also confirmed this intelligence, and urged him to come for once to F——­ to see and admire this uncommon sight of two such glorious singers.  They had not the slightest suspicion of the close relations in which Krespel stood to the pair.  Willingly would he have seen with his own eyes the daughter who occupied so large a place in his heart, and who moreover often appeared to him in his dreams; but as often as he thought upon his wife he felt very uncomfortable, and so he remained at home amongst his broken violins.  There was a certain promising young composer, B——­ of F——­, who was found to have suddenly disappeared, nobody knew where.  This young man fell so deeply in love with Antonia that, as she returned his love, he earnestly besought her mother to consent to an immediate union, sanctified as it would further be by art.  Angela had nothing to urge against his suit; and the Councillor the more readily gave his consent that the young composer’s productions had found favor before his rigorous critical judgment.  Krespel was expecting to hear of the consummation of the marriage, when he received instead a black-sealed envelope addressed in a strange hand.  Doctor R——­ conveyed to the Councillor the sad intelligence that Angela had fallen seriously ill in consequence of a cold caught at the theatre, and that during the night immediately preceding what was to have been Antonia’s wedding-day, she had died.  To him, the Doctor, Angela had disclosed the fact that she was Krespel’s wife, and that Antonia was his daughter; he, Krespel, had better hasten therefore to take charge of the orphan.  Notwithstanding that the Councillor was a good deal upset by this news of Angela’s death, he soon began to feel that an antipathetic, disturbing influence had departed out of his life, and that now for the first time he could begin to breathe freely.  The very same day he set out for F——.  You could not credit how heartrending was the Councillor’s description of the moment when he first saw Antonia.  Even in the fantastic oddities of his expression there was such a marvellous power of description that I am unable to give even so much as a faint indication of it.  Antonia inherited all her mother’s