ain he looked for some sign,
some word from her.

Quickly he left the theater and sought his hotel.

A menacing cloud obscured the wintry moon. A clock sounded the midnight
hour.

He threw himself upon the bed and almost sobbed his thoughts, and their
burden was:

"I am not great enough for her. I am but a man. I am but a man!"

III

Perkins called in the morning. Perkins was happy--Perkins was
positively joyous, and Perkins was self-satisfied. The violinist had
made a great hit. But Perkins, confiding in the white-coated dispenser
who concocted his matin Martini, very dry, an hour before, said he
regarded the success due as much to the management as to the artist.
And Perkins believed it. Perkins usually took all the credit for a
success, and with charming consistency placed all responsibility for
failure on the shoulders of the hapless artist.

When Perkins entered Diotti's room he found the violinist heavy-eyed
and dejected. "My dear Signor," he began, showing a large envelope
bulging with newspaper clippings, "I have brought the notices. They are
quite the limit, I assure you. Nothing like them ever heard before--all
tuned in the same key, as you musical fellows would say," and Perkins
cocked his eye.

Perkins enjoyed a glorious reputation with himself for bright sayings,
which he always accompanied with a cock of the eye. The musician not
showing any visible appreciation of the manager's metaphor, Perkins
immediately proceeded to uncock his eye.

"Passed the box-office coming up," continued this voluble enlightener;
"nothing left but a few seats in the top gallery. We'll stand them on
their heads to-morrow night--see if we don't." Then he handed the
bursting envelope of notices to Diotti, who listlessly put them on the
table at his side.

"Too tired to read, eh?" said Perkins, and then with the advance-agent
instinct strong within him he selected a clipping, and touching the
violinist on the shoulder: "Let me read this one to you. It is by Herr
Totenkellar. He is a hard nut to crack, but he did himself proud this
time. Great critic when he wants to be."

Perkins cleared his throat and began: "Diotti combines tremendous
feeling with equally tremendous technique. The entire audience was
under the witchery of his art." Diotti slowly negatived that statement
with bowed head. "His tone is full, round and clear; his
interpretation lends a story-telling charm to the music; for, while we
drank deep