ike it? What can make you think so?"

"Well, at least you have good friends."

"Have I? Oh, yes, of course!" said I, thinking of von Francius.

"Do you get on with your music?" he next inquired.

"I hope so. I--do you think it strange that I should live there all
alone?" I asked, tormented with a desire to know what he did think of
me, and crassly ready to burst into explanations on the least
provocation. I was destined to be undeceived.

"I have not thought about it at all; it is not my business."

Snub number one. He had spoken quickly, as if to clear himself as much
as possible from any semblance of interest to me.

I went on, rashly plunging into further intricacies of conversation:

"It is curious that you and I should not only live near to each other,
but actually have the same profession at last."

"How?"

Snub number two. But I persevered.

"Music. Your profession is music, and mine will be."

"I do not see the resemblance. There is little point of likeness between
a young lady who is in training for a prima-donna and an obscure
musiker, who contributes his share of shakes and runs to the symphony."

"I in training for a prima-donna! How can you say so?"

"Do we not all know the forte of Herr von Francius? And--excuse me--are
not your windows opposite to ours, and open as a rule? Can I not hear
the music you practice, and shall I not believe my own ears?"

"I am sure your own ears do not tell you that a future prima-donna lives
opposite to you," said I, feeling most insanely and unreasonably hurt
and cut up at the idea.

"Will you tell me that you are not studying for the stage?"

"I never said I was not. I said I was not a future prima-donna. My voice
is not half good enough. I am not clever enough, either."

He laughed.

"As if voice or cleverness had anything to do with it. Personal
appearance and friends at court are the chief things. I have known
prime-donne--seen them, I mean--and from my place below the foot-lights
I have had the impertinence to judge them upon their own merits.
Provided they were handsome, impudent, and unscrupulous enough, their
public seemed gladly to dispense with art, cultivation, or genius in
their performances and conceptions."

"And you think that I am, or shall be in time, handsome, impudent, and
unscrupulous enough," said I, in a low choked tone.

My fleeting joy was being thrust back by hands most ruthless. Unmixed
satisfaction for even the brief space