XIII

HAROLD BAUER

THE QUESTION OF PIANO TONE


Buried deep in the heart of old Paris, in one of the narrow, busy
thoroughfares of the city, stands the ancient house in which the master
pianist, Harold Bauer, has made a home.

One who is unfamiliar with Paris would never imagine that behind those
rows of uninviting buildings lining the noisy, commercial street, there
lived people of refined and artistic tastes. All the entrances to the
buildings look very much alike--they seem to be mere slits in the walls.
I stopped before one of the openings, entered and crossed a paved
courtyard, climbed a winding stone stairway, rang at a plain wooden
doorway, and was ushered into the artist's abode. Once within, I hardly
dared to speak, lest what I saw might vanish away, as with the wave of a
fairy's wand. Was I not a moment before down in that dusty, squalid
street, and here I am now in a beautiful room whose appointments are
all of quiet elegance--costly but in exquisite taste, and where absolute
peace and quiet reign. The wide windows open upon a lovely green garden,
which adds the final touch of restful repose to the whole picture.

Mr. Bauer was giving a lesson in the music salon beyond, from which