music started with a goblin walking quietly over the
universe, from end to end. Others followed him. They were
not aggressive creatures; it was that that made them so
terrible to Helen. They merely observed in passing that
there was no such thing as splendour or heroism in the
world. After the interlude of elephants dancing, they
returned and made the observation for the second time.
Helen could not contradict them, for, once at all events,
she had felt the same, and had seen the reliable walls of
youth collapse. Panic and emptiness! Panic and emptiness!
The goblins were right.

Her brother raised his finger: it was the transitional
passage on the drum.

For, as if things were going too far, Beethoven took
hold of the goblins and made them do what he wanted. He
appeared in person. He gave them a little push, and they
began to walk in major key instead of in a minor, and
then--he blew with his mouth and they were scattered! Gusts
of splendour, gods and demigods contending with vast swords,
colour and fragrance broadcast on the field of battle,
magnificent victory, magnificent death! Oh, it all burst
before the girl, and she even stretched out her gloved hands
as if it was tangible. Any fate was titanic; any contest
desirable; conqueror and conquered would alike be applauded
by the angels of the utmost stars.

And the goblins--they had not really been there at all?
They were only the phantoms of cowardice and unbelief? One