ever, and then was interrupted by a high note like a clarion; and while
Diaz held that imperious, compelling note, he turned his face slightly
from the piano and gazed at me. Several times since the first time our
eyes had met, by accident as I thought. But this was a deliberate seeking
on his part. Again I flushed hotly. Again I had the terrible shudder of
joy. I feared for a moment lest all the Five Towns was staring at me,
thus singled out by Diaz; but it was not so: I had the wit to perceive
that no one could remark me as the recipient of that hurried and burning
glance. He had half a dozen bars to play, yet his eyes did not leave
mine, and I would not let mine leave his. He remained moveless while the
last chord expired, and then it seemed to me that his gaze had gone
further, had passed through me into some unknown. The applause startled
him to his feet.

My thought was: 'What can he be thinking of me?... But hundreds of women
must have loved him!'

In the interval an attendant came on to the platform and altered the
position of the piano. Everybody asked: 'What's that for?' For the new
position was quite an unusual one; it brought the tail of the piano
nearer to the audience, and gave a better view of the keyboard to the
occupants of the seats in the orchestra behind the platform. 'It's a
question of the acoustics, that's what it is,' observed a man near me,
and a woman replied: 'Oh, I see!'

When Diaz returned and seated himself to play the Berceuse, I saw that he
could look at me without turning his head. And now, instead of flushing,
I went cold. My spine gave way suddenly. I began to be afraid; but of
what I was afraid I had not the least idea. I fixed my eyes on my
programme as he launched into the Berceuse. Twice I glanced up, without,