There is nothing left of it but a stain. It has gone from
me and is dead. Come!"

He lifted his violin, and the two men took their hats and went out,
side by side, silently, without speaking.

The room was empty. Slowly from the throats of the gargoyles trickled
the beer; and the Fass was like a great shadow hung from the ceiling by
its chains. From outside came the clamour of voices and laughter, and
the waitresses sped to and fro. The lights twinkled gayly under the
spreading of the leaves, and the glasses clinked.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Friedrichs-Halle was old and shabby and had originally been a
market. The entrance was under an arcade, and there was an underground
passage, connecting the green-room with the stage-door of the Opera
House; a passage narrow and ill-smelling, without windows or light; but
dear to the hearts of musicians by reason of its associations.

Mendelssohn had walked there, and Schumann, and Brahms; and the air, as
it could not be changed, was the same. The very microbes were musical,
and the walls were smudged with snatches of motives, jotted down for
remembrance.

"Is there a seat left in the top gallery--just one?"

"Standing room only, Madame."

The ticket-seller, who sat in a box-like room under the arcade, handed
out a slip of green paste-board, and then shut the window with a slam.
The gesture of his hand expressed the fact that his business was now
over. Standing room also had ceased, and the long line of people
waiting turned away with muttered exclamations.

The foyer was like an ant-hill in commotion; people running forwards
and backwards, trying vainly to bribe an entrance, until the noise was
like hornets buzzing; while from behind came the sound of the orchestra
tuning, faint raspings of the cellos, and the wails of the wood-winds,
and above them the cry of a trumpet muffled.

Kaya took the green paste-board hastily in her hand, clasping it, as if
afraid it might in some way be snatched from her, and sped up the
narrow stone stairway to the right, running fast until her breath
failed her. Still another turn, and another flight, and she stood in
the Concert Hall, high up under the roof, where the students go, and
the air is warm and heavy, and the stage looks far away. The gallery
was crowded.

On the stage the orchestra were assembling, still tuning occasionally
here and there where an instrument was refractory. The scores lay open
and ready on the des