"Shall we go out? We've got ten minutes."

They made their way to the corridor and strolled slowly up and down,
passing and repassing others who were discussing the music.

"Such music puts my back up," Nigel continued, with energy; "makes me
feel I won't give in to it."

Isaacson could not help smiling.

"I can't look at Art from the moral plane."

"But surely Art often makes you think either morally or immorally.
Surely it gives you impulses which connect themselves with life, with
people."

Isaacson looked at him.

"I don't deny it. But these impulses are like the shadowy spectres of
the Brocken, mere outlines which presently, very soon, dissolve into the
darkness. Though great music is full of form, it often creates chaos in
those who hear it."

"Then that music should call up in you a chaos of despair."

"It does."

"It makes me want to fight."

"What?"