self-control. Without waiting to think and weigh his extraordinary
impression, he did a very foolish but a very natural thing. Feeling
himself irresistibly driven by the sudden stress to some kind of action,
he sprang to his feet--and screamed! To his own utter amazement he stood
up and shrieked aloud!

But no one stirred. No one, apparently, took the slightest notice of his
absurdly wild behaviour. It was almost as if no one but himself had
heard the scream at all--as though the music had drowned it and
swallowed it up--as though after all perhaps he had not really screamed
as loudly as he imagined, or had not screamed at all.

Then, as he glanced at the motionless, dark faces before him, something
of utter cold passed into his being, touching his very soul.... All
emotion cooled suddenly, leaving him like a receding tide. He sat down
again, ashamed, mortified, angry with himself for behaving like a fool
and a boy. And the music, meanwhile, continued to issue from the white
and snakelike fingers of Bruder Schliemann, as poisoned wine might issue
from the weirdly fashioned necks of antique phials.

And, with the rest of them, Harris drank it in.

Forcing himself to believe that he had been the victim of some kind of
illusory perception, he vigorously restrained his feelings. Then the
music presently ceased, and every one applauded and began to talk at
once, laughing, changing seats, complimenting the player, and behaving
naturally and easily as though nothing out of the way had happened. The
faces appeared normal once more. The Brothers crowded round their
visitor, and he joined in their talk and even heard himself thanking the
gifted musician.