his career. But the lady in the box had
remained silent and unaffected throughout.

The poor fellow had seen only her dur-
ing the time he played, and the mighty
cheers that came from floor and galleries
struck upon his ear like the echoes
of mocking demons. Leaving the stage
he hurried to his dressing-room and
sank into a chair. He had persuaded
himself she should not be insensible to
his genius, but the dying ashes of his
hopes, his dreams, were smouldering,
and in his despair came the thought:
``I am not great enough for her. I am
but a man; her consort should be a god.
Her soul, untouched by human passion
or human skill, demands the power of
god-like genius to arouse it.''

Music lovers crowded into his dressing-
room, enthusiastic in their praises.
Cards conveying delicate compliments
written in delicate chirography poured
in upon him, but in vain he looked for
some sign, some word from her.

Quickly he left the theater and sought
his hotel.