Now they say that many years ago in the great city of Prague, on the Vltava river, there lived a goldsmith known as Josef Ignac whose work became the talk of the city. Neither the richest noblemen nor the finest and most fashionable ladies had seen anything to equal it. Never in all their lives had they seen gems of such lustre and ornaments of such fine quality.

The garnet necklaces, the amber bracelets, the opal rings, the collars and clasps of lapis lazuli glittered so brightly that they dazzled all those who looked at them. They were the most beautiful pieces of jewellery the people of Prague had ever seen.

And indeed Josef Ignac had grown prosperous as a result, though you would never have known it to look at him for he still wore his tattered black coat and an ancient hat that had seen better days.

His name had become well known all over the city. "Josef Ignac is not just a goldsmith," people said, "He is an artist. It is said that an angel sits upon his shoulder and whispers to him as he works!"

Oh yes, many came to gaze into the tiny workshop in Golden Lane to see if such stories were true. But all they saw was a man so busy and intent upon his work that he neither noticed them nor knew what time of day or night it was. Yes, in the street of the goldsmths that tiny workshop built into the castle wall twinkled like a brilliant star, outshining all the others.

But Josef Ignac had one great sadness and perhaps it was this that had driven him to work feverishly night and day. He had been blessed with a daughter named Zelenka, a sweet girl as gentle and tender as a dove. Yet the child Zelenka had not spoken one word since birth, for she was a mute."My little mute dove was born without a voice," said Josef Ignac, "but I stake my life on it that she shall want for nothing else as long as she lives."

And he worked harder and harder so that he might have the means to buy her anything she desired.