ver fortune awaits you shall await us both."

"Ah, Tina," said the old man, "you are very good, but you mistake. I am
not the great master you suppose. I know it too well. There is always
something wanting in my notes. When you sing them, well and good. Even
as they are they never would have been scored but for you. When I leave
you the glamour will be taken out of them. They will be cold and dead:
no one will think anything of them any more."

"If this be true," said the girl, almost fiercely, "it is all the more
reason why I will never leave you! You have made me, as the Prince said;
I am yours for life. Wherever you go I will go; whatever you write I
will sing. If we fail, we fail together. If we succeed, the success is
yours."

She paused for a moment, and then, with a deeper flush and a tender
confidence which seemed inspired:

"And we shall succeed! I have not yet sung my best. I, too, know it. You
have not yet made me all you may. Whatever you teach me I will sing!"

The old man looked at her, as well he might, deeply moved, but he shook
his head.

"Tina," he said, "I will not have it. You must not be ruined for me. You
must not go. Other masters, greater than I, will finish what it is my
happiness to have begun. The world will ring with your name. Art will be
enriched with your glorious singing. I shall hear of it before I die.
The old Maestro will say, 'Ah, that is the girl whom I taught.'"

The girl was standing now quite calm, all trace of emotion even had past
away. She looked at him with a serene smile that was sublime in its
rest. It was not worth while even to say a word.

* * * * *

The decision of the Maestro and the Signorina filled the princely
household with distress. Tina had been, at Joyeuse, the light and joy of
a joyful place; and, although the household saw much less of her at
Vienna, yet the charm of her presence and of her triumphs was still
their own. The Prince heard the news with absolute dismay. It was not
only that he had begun to love the girl, he conceived that she belonged
to him of right. The Maestro was his; he had assisted, maintained, and
patronised him; by his encouragement and in his service he had
discovered the girl and trained her in music. They were both part of his
scheme, of his art of life. It was bad, doubtless, that, when he had
attempted still higher flights, when he had wished to bring, and, as he
had once thought, succeeded in