A music-teacher was the most unnecessary and useless of mortals, and the music-teacher felt this, and was ready to become wood-cutter, laborer, street-sweeper, anything to procure food for his sick wife, his only child, to brighten their impoverished, sorrowful lives with a ray of comfort.

But it was all in vain; the poor music-teacher found employment nowhere; he might have starved in the midst of the great city, surrounded by wealthy people who, with arrogant bearing, daily drove in brilliant equipages past him and his misery.

For his part, he would gladly have died, for what value could his wretched, pitiful life have to him! But he had a daughter, the only creature whom he loved; she was his happiness, his hope, and his joy.

His daughter must not starve; must not suffer from the wretched needs of existence; must not crawl in the dust, while others, less beautiful, less good, less gifted, enjoyed life in luxury and splendor.

Chance betrayed an important secret to the poor musician.