ouds
and spirals that mounted rapidly and vanished, seemed to Maurice
symbolic of the brief and shadowy lives that were unrolled before him.
But, after all this, when the lights came, the piano was opened, and
then, for an hour or two, the world was forgotten in a different way.
It was here that the chief landmarks of music emerged from the mists in
which, for Maurice, they had hitherto been enveloped; here he learned
that Bach and Beethoven were giants, and made uncertain efforts at
appreciation; learnt that Gluck was a great composer, Mozart a genius
of many parts, Mendelssohn the direct successor in this line of kings.
Sonatas, symphonies, operas, were hammered out with tremendous force
and precision on the harsh, scrupulously tuned piano; and all were
dominated alike by the hoarse voice of the old man, who never wavered,
never faltered, but sang from beginning to end with all his might. Each
one of the pleasant hours spent in this new world helped to deepen
Maurice's resolution to free himself while there was yet time; each one
gave more clearness and precision to his somewhat formless desires;
for, in all that concerned his art, the nameless old musician hated his
native land, with the hatred of the bigot for those who are hostile or
indifferent to his faith.

With a long and hot-chased goal in sight, a goal towards which our
hearts, in joyous eagerness, have already leapt out, it is astonishing
how easy it becomes to make light of the last, monotonous stretch of
road that remains to be travelled. Is there not, just beyond, a
resting-place?--and cool, green shadows? Events and circumstances which
had hitherto loomed forth gigantic, threatening to crush, now appeared
to Maurice trivial and of little moment; he saw them in other
proportions now, for it seemed to him that he was no longer in their
midst: he stood above them and overlooked them, and, with his eyes
fixed upon a starry future, he joyfully prepared himself for his new
life. What is more, those around him helped him to this altered view of
things. For as the present marched steadily upon the future, devouring
as it went; as the departure this future contained took on the shape of
a fact, the countless details of which called for attention, it began
to be accepted as even the most unpalatable facts in the long run
usually are, with an ungracious resignation in face of the inevitable.
Thus, with all his ardour to be gone, Maurice Guest came to see the
last