sometimes carry over with it, from the woods on the left, the mournful
notes of a French horn, which some unskilful player had gone out to
practise.

This was that new world of which he was now a part--into which he had
been so auspiciously received.

Yes, the beginning and the thousand petty disquiets that go with
beginnings, were behind him; he had made a start, and he believed a
good one--thanks to Dove. He was really grateful to Dove. A chance
acquaintance, formed on one of those early days when he loitered,
timid and unsure, about the BUREAU of the Conservatorium, Dove had
taken him up with what struck even the grateful new-comer as
extraordinary good-nature, going deliberately out of his way to be of
service to him, meeting him at every turn with assistance and advice.
It was Dove who had helped him over the embarrassments of the
examination; it was through Dove's influence that he had obtained a
private interview with Schwarz, and, in Dove's opinion, Schwarz was
the only master in Leipzig under whom it was worth while to study; the
only one who could be relied on to give the exhaustive TECHNIQUE that
was indispensable, without, in the process, destroying what was of
infinitely more account, the individuality, the TEMPERAMENT of the
student. This and more, Dove set forth at some length in their
conversations; then, warming to his work, he would go further: would
go on to speak of phrasings and interpretations; of an artistic use of
the pedals, and the legitimate participation of the emotions; of the
confines of absolute music as touched in the Ninth Symphony: would
refer incidentally to Schopenhauer and make Wagner his authority,
using terms that were new to his hearer, and, now and then, by way of
emphasis, bringing his palm down flat and noiselessly upon the