grave but yet passionate voice--if you will but live! Were
there a heaven, and you reached it, you could do no more than live. The
true heaven is here where you live, where you strive and lose, and weep
and laugh. And the true hell is here, where you forget to live, and blind
your eyes to the omnipresent and terrible beauty of existence....

No, no; I cannot--I cannot describe further the experiences of my soul
while Diaz played. When words cease, music has scarcely begun. I know
now--I did not know it then--that Diaz was playing as perhaps he had
never played before. The very air was charged with exquisite emotion,
which went in waves across the hall, changing and blanching faces,
troubling hearts, and moistening eyes.... And then he finished. It was
over. In every trembling breast was a pang of regret that this spell,
this miracle, this divine revolution, could not last into eternity....
He stood bowing, one hand touching the piano. And as the revolution he
had accomplished in us was divine, so was he divine. I felt, and many
another woman in the audience felt, that no reward could be too great for
the beautiful and gifted creature who had entranced us and forced us to
see what alone in life was worth seeing: that the whole world should be
his absolute dominion; that his happiness should be the first concern of
mankind; that if a thousand suffered in order to make him happy for a
moment, it mattered not; that laws were not for him; that if he sinned,
his sin must not be called a sin, and that he must be excused from
remorse and from any manner of woe.

The applauding multitude stood up, and moved slightly towards the exits,
and then stopped, as if ashamed of this readiness to desert the sacred
temple. Diaz came forward three times, and each time the applause
increased to a tempest; but he only smiled--smiled gravely. I could not
see distinctly whether his eyes had sought mine, for mine were full of
tears. No persuasions could induce him to show himself a fourth time, and
at length a middle-aged man appeared and stated that Diaz was extremely
gratified by his reception, but that he was also extremely exhausted and
had left the hall.

We departed, we mortals; and I was among the last to leave the
auditorium. As I left the lights were being extinguished over the
platform, and an attendant was closing the piano. The foyer was crowded
with people waiting to get out. The word passed that it was raining
heavily. I wondered