tic, with long
yellow curls, and a face full of pride and high temper, who gave herself
decided airs, and trusted to her beauty and insolence to carry off
certain radical defects of harshness of voice and want of ear. I never
forgot how she stared me down from head to foot on the occasion of my
first appearance alone, as if to say, "What do you want here?"

It was in vain that she looked haughty and handsome. Addressing her as
Fraeulein Hulstrom, von Francius gave her a sharp lecture, and imitated
the effect of her voice in a particularly soft passage with ludicrous
accuracy. The rest of the chorus was tittering audibly, the musicians,
with the exception of Courvoisier and his friend, nudging each other and
smiling. She bridled haughtily, flashed a furious glance at her mentor,
grew crimson, received a sarcastic smile which baffled her, and subsided
again.

So it was with them all. His blame was plentiful; his praise so rare as
to be almost an unknown quantity. His chorus and orchestra were famed
for the minute perfection and precision of their play and singing.
Perhaps the performance lacked something else--passion, color. Von
Francius, at that time at least, was no genius, though his talent, his
power, and his method were undeniably great. He was, however, not
popular--not the Harold, the "beloved leader" of his people.

It was to-night that I was first shown how all was not smooth for him;
that in this art union there were splits--"little rifts within the
lute," which, should they extend, might literally in the end "make the
music mute." I heard whispers around me. "Herr von Francius is
angry."--"_Nicht wahr_?"--"Herr Courvoisier looks angry too."--"Yes, he
does."--"There will be an open quarrel there soon."--"I think
so."--"They are both clever; one should be less clever than the
other."--"They are so opposed."--"Yes. They say Courvoisier has a party
of his own, and that all the orchestra are on his side."--"So!" in
accents of curiosity and astonishment--"_Ja wohl!_ And that if von
Francius does not mind, he will see Herr Courvoisier in his place,"
etc., etc., without end. All which excited me much, as the first glimpse
into the affairs of those about whom we think much and know little (a
form of life well known to women in general) always does interest us.

These things made me forget to be nervous or anxious. I saw myself now
as part of the whole, a unit in the sum of a life which interested me.
Von Francius g