love but you!"

"Love me? Bah! And another woman's tresses sacred to you? Another
woman's pledge sacred to you? I asked you to remove the string; you
refused. I ask you now to play upon it; you refuse," and she paced the
room like a caged tigress.

"I will watch to-night when you play," she flashed. "If you do not use
that string we part forever."

He stood before her and attempted to take her hand; she repulsed him
savagely.

Sadly then he asked: "And if I do play upon it?"

"I am yours forever--yours through life--through eternity," she cried
passionately.

The call-boy announced Diotti's turn; the violinist led Mildred to a
seat at the entrance of the stage. His appearance was the signal for
prolonged and enthusiastic greeting from the enormous audience present.
He clearly was the idol of the metropolis.

The lights were lowered, a single calcium playing with its soft and
silvery rays upon his face and shoulders. The expectant audience
scarcely breathed as he began his theme. It was pity--pity molded into
a concord of beautiful sounds, and when he began the second movement it
was but a continuation of the first; his fingers sought but one string,
that of pity. Again he played, and once more pity stole from the violin.

When he left the stage Mildred rushed So him. "You did not touch that
string; you refuse my wish?" and the sounds of mighty applause without
drowned his pleading voice.

"I told you if you refused me I was lost to you forever! Do you
understand?"

Diotti returned slowly to the center of the stage and remained
motionless until the audience subsided. Facing Mildred, whose color was
heightened by the intensity of her emotion, he began softly to play.
His fingers sought the string of Death. The audience listened with
breathless interest. The composition was weirdly and strangely
fascinating.

The player told with wondrous power of despair,--of hope, of faith;
sunshine crept into the hearts of all as he pictured the promise of an
eternal day; higher and higher, softer and softer grew the theme until
it echoed as if it were afar in the realms of light and floating o'er
the waves of a golden sea.

Suddenly the audience was startled by the snapping of a string; the
violin and bow dropped from the nerveless hands of the player. He fell
helpless to the stage.

Mildred rushed to him, crying, "Angelo, Angelo, what is it? What has
happened?" Bending over him she gently raised his head and shower