here arranged for pianoforte duet,' he said.
'Tony, my secretary, enjoys playing it. You shall play part of the
second act with me.'

'Me! With you!'

'Certainly.'

'Impossible! I should never dare! How do you know I can play at all?'

'You have just proved it to me,' said he. 'Come; you will not
refuse me this!'

I wanted to leave the vicinity of the piano. I felt that, once out of the
immediate circle of his tremendous physical influence, I might manage to
escape the ordeal which he had suggested. But I could not go away. The
silken nets of his personality had been cast, and I was enmeshed. And if
I was happy, it was with a dreadful happiness.

'But, really, I can't play with you,' I said weakly.

His response was merely to look up at me over his shoulder. His beautiful
face was so close to mine, and it expressed such a naive and strong
yearning for my active and intimate sympathy, and such divine frankness,
and such perfect kindliness, that I had no more will to resist. I knew I
should suffer horribly in spoiling by my coarse amateurishness the
miraculous finesse of his performance, but I resigned myself to
suffering. I felt towards him as I had felt during the concert: that he
must have his way at no matter what cost, that he had already earned the
infinite gratitude of the entire world--in short, I raised him in my soul
to a god's throne; and I accepted humbly the great, the incredible honour
he did me. And I was right--a thousand times right.

And in the same moment he was like a charming child to me: such is always
in some wise the relation between the creature born to enjoy and the
creature born to suffer.

'I'll try,' I said; 'but it will be appalling.'

I laughed and shook my head.

'We shall see how appalling it will be,' he murmured, as he got the
volume of music.

He fetched a chair for me, and we sat down side by side, he on the stool
and I on the chair.

'I'm afraid my chair is too low,' I said.

'And I'm sure this stool is too high,' he said. 'Suppose we exchange.'

So we both rose to change the positions of the chair and the stool, and
our garments touched and almost our faces, and at that very moment there
was a loud rap at the door.

I darted away from him.

'What's that?' I cried, low in a fit of terror.

'Who's there?' he called quietly; but he did not stir.

We gazed at each other.

The knock was repeated, sharply and firmly.

'Who's there?' Diaz demanded again.

'Go t