iently. "I only hope that his notice will not
discourage you for Tristan to-morrow night. But Mr. Calcraft is really a
kind man, even if he seems severe in print. I tell him that he always
hangs his fiddle outside the door, as the Irish say, which means, my
dear Herr Viznina, that he is kinder abroad than at home." Seeing the
slightly bewildered look of her companion she added, "And so you didn't
mind his being cross this morning, did you?" The tenor hesitated.

"But he was not cross at all, Madame; I thought him very kind; for my
throat was rough--you know what I mean! sick, sore; yes, it was a real
sore throat that I had last night." It was her turn to look puzzled.

"Not cross? Mr. Calcraft not severe? Dear me, what do you call it,
then?"

"He said I was a great artist," rejoined the other.

Tekla burst into laughter and apologized. "You have read the wrong
paper, Herr Viznina, and I am glad you have. And now you must promise to
stay and dine with us to-night. No, you sha'n't refuse! We are quite
alone and you must know that, as old married folks, we are always
delighted to have some one with us. I told Mr. Calcraft only this
morning that we should go out to dinner if he came home alone. Don't ask
for which paper he writes until you meet him. Nothing in the world could
make me tell you." She was all frankness and animation, and her guest
told himself that she was of a great charm. They fell into professional
talk. She spoke of her husband's talents; how he had played the viola in
quartet parties; of his successful lecture, "The Inutility of Wagner,"
and his preferences in music.

"But if he does not care for Wagner he must be a Brahmsianer." The last
word came out with true Viennese unction.

"He now despises Brahms, and thinks that he had nothing to say. Wagner
is, for him, a decadent, like Liszt and the rest."

"But the classics, Madame, what does M. Calcraft write of the classics?"
demanded the singer.

"That they are all used-up romantics; that every musical dog has his
day, and the latest composer is always the best; he voices his
generation. We liked Brahms yesterday; to-day we are all for Richard
Strauss and the symphonic poem."

"_We?_" A quizzical inflection was in the young man's voice. She stared
at him.

"I get into the habit of using the editorial 'we.' I do it for fun; I by
no means always agree with my husband. Besides, I often write criticism
for Mr. Calcraft when he is away--or lecturing.