to
a subsequent decay, now openly admitted in the little placards which
dotted them here and there, bearing the bold-typed words GARCON LOGIS,
and dangling bravely yellow from the windows of the cheap lodgings they
proclaimed vacant. It was very still; the hoarse voice of a
fruit-seller crying his wares in the adjoining streets, was to be heard
at intervals, but each time less distinctly, and from the distance came
the faint tones of a single piano. How different it was in the morning!
Then, if, pausing a moment from his work, he opened the window and
leaned out for a brief refreshment, what a delightful confusion of
sounds met his ear! Pianos rolled noisily up and down, ploughing one
through the other, beating one against the other, key to key, rhythm to
rhythm, each in a clamorous despair at being unable to raise its voice
above the rest, at having to form part of this jumble of discord: some
so near at hand or so directly opposite that, none the less, it was
occasionally possible to follow them through the persistent
reiterations of a fugue, or through some brilliant glancing ETUDE, the
notes of which flew off like sparks; others, further away, of which
were audible only the convulsive treble outbursts and the toneless
rumblings of the bass, now and then cut shrilly through by the piercing
sharpness of a violin, now and then, at quieter moments, borne up and
accompanied by the deep, guttural tones of a neighbouring violoncello.
This was always discovered at work upon scales, uncertain, hesitating
scales on the lower strings, and, heard suddenly, after the other
instruments' genial hubbub, it sounded like some inarticulate animal
making uncouth attempts at expression. At rare intervals there came a
lull, and then, before all burst forth again together, or fell in, one
by one, a single piano or the violin would, like a solo voice in a
symphony, bear the whole burden; or if the wind were in the west, it
would sometimes carry over with it, from the woods on the left, the
mournful notes of a French horn, which some unskilful player had gone
out to practise.

This was that new world of which he was now a part--into which he had
been so auspiciously received.

Yes, the beginning and the thousand petty disquiets that go with
beginnings, were behind him; he had made a start, and he believed a
good one--thanks to Dove. He was really grateful to Dove. A chance
acquaintance, formed on one of those early days when he loitered,