died had I not willed to
live.... It gave place momentarily to the song of the question and the
search, but only to return, and to return again, with a more thrilling
and glorious assurance. It was drowned in doubt, but it emerged
triumphantly, covered with noble and delicious ornaments, and swimming
strongly on mysterious waves. And finally, with speed and with fire, it
was transformed and caught up into the last ecstasy, the ultimate
passion. The soul swept madly between earth and heaven, fell, rose; and
there was a dreadful halt. Then a loud blast, a distortion of the magic,
an upward rush, another and a louder blast, and a thunderous fall,
followed by two massive and terrifying chords....

Diaz was standing up and bowing to his public. What did they understand?
Did they understand anything? I cannot tell. But I know that they felt.
A shudder of feeling had gone through the hall. It was in vain that
people tried to emancipate themselves from the spell by the violence of
their applause. They could not. We were all together under the
enchantment. Some may have seen clearly, some darkly, but we were equal
before the throne of that mighty enchanter. And the enchanter bowed and
bowed with a grave, sympathetic smile, and then disappeared. I had not
clapped my hands; I had not moved. Only my full eyes had followed him as
he left the platform; and when he returned--because the applause would
not cease--my eyes watched over him as he came back to the centre of the
platform. He stood directly in front of me, smiling more gaily now. And
suddenly our glances met! Yes; I could not be mistaken. They met, and
mine held his for several seconds.... Diaz had looked at me. Diaz had
singled me out from the crowd. I blushed hotly, and I was conscious of a
surpassing joy. My spirit was transfigured. I knew that such a man was
above kings. I knew that the world and everything of loveliness that it
contained was his. I knew that he moved like a beautiful god through the
groves of delight, and that what he did was right, and whom he beckoned
came, and whom he touched was blessed. And my eyes had held his eyes for
a little space.

The enchantment deepened. I had read that the secret of playing Chopin
had died with Chopin; but I felt sure that evening, as I have felt sure
since, that Chopin himself, aristocrat of the soul as he was, would have
received Diaz as an equal, might even have acknowledged in him a
superior. For Diaz had a physique,