The whole last act of _The Twilight of the Gods_ is not greater than a
little song of Grieg's.'

'I see,' I murmured humbly. '_The Twilight of the Gods_--that is Wagner,
isn't it?'

'Yes. Don't you know your Wagner?'

'No. I--'

'You don't know _Tristan_?'

He jumped up, excited.

'How could I know it?' I expostulated. 'I have never seen any opera. I
know the marches from _Tannhäuser_ and _Lohengrin_, and "O Star of Eve!"'

'But it is impossible that you don't know _Tristan_!' he exclaimed. 'The
second act of _Tristan_ is the greatest piece of love-music--No, it
isn't.' He laughed. 'I must not contradict myself. But it is
marvellous--marvellous! You know the story?'

'Yes,' I said. 'Play me some of it.'

'I will play the Prelude,' he answered.

I gulped down the remaining drops in my glass and crossed the room to a
chair where I could see his face. And he played the Prelude to the most
passionately voluptuous opera ever written. It was my first real
introduction to Wagner, my first glimpse of that enchanted field. I was