issued, now and again, echoes of well-beloved themes from a Chopin
sonata. When the lesson was over he came out to me.

"Yes, this is one of the old houses, of the sort that are fast passing
away in Paris," he said, answering my remark; "there are comparatively
few of them left. This building is doubtless at least three hundred
years old. In this quarter of the city--in the rue de Bac, for
instance--you may find old, forbidding looking buildings, that within
are magnificent--perfect palaces; at the back of them, perhaps, will be
a splendid garden; but the whole thing is so hidden away that even the
very existence of such grandeur and beauty would never be suspected from
without."

He then led the way to the music-room, where we had an hour's talk.

[Illustration: HAROLD BAUER]

"I was thinking as I drove down here," I began, "what the trend of our
talk might be, for you have already spoken on so many subjects for
publication. It occurred to me to ask how you yourself secure a
beautiful tone on the piano, and how you teach others to make it?"

Mr. Bauer thought an instant.

"I am not sure that I do make it; in fact I do not believe in a single
beautiful tone on the piano. Tone on the piano can only be beautiful in
the right place--that is, in relation to other tones. You or I, or the
man in the street, who knows nothing about music, may each touch a piano
key, and that key will sound the same, whoever moves it, from the nature
of the instrument. A beautiful tone may result when two or more notes