s spectacle of his triumphant genius, her matter-of-fact acceptance
of his racial affinity, her refusal to be impressed by the heroism of
a Hebrew pianoforte solo, all she said and did not say, jarred upon
his quivering nerves, chilled his high emotion. 'Will you say I shall
have much pleasure?' he added coldly.

The red-haired maid nodded and was gone. Rozenoffski went mechanically
to his cabin, scarcely seeing the worshippers he plodded through;
presently he became aware that he was changing his linen, brushing his
best frock-coat, thrilling with pleasurable excitement.

Anon he was tapping at the well-known door. A voice--of another
sweetness--cried 'Come!' and instantly he had the sensation that his
touch on the handle had launched upon him, as by some elaborate
electric contrivance, a tall and beautiful American, a rustling
tea-gown, a shimmer of rings, a reek of patchouli, and a flood of
compliment.

'So delightful of you to come--I know you men of genius are
_farouches_--it was awfully insolent of me, I know, but you have
forgiven me, haven't you?'

'The pleasure is mine, gracious lady,' he murmured in German.

'_Ach_, so you are a German,' she replied in the same tongue. 'I
thought no American or Englishman could have so much divine fire. You
see, _mein Herr_, I do not even know your name--only your genius.
Every afternoon I have lain here, lapped in your music, but I might
never have had the courage to thank you had you not played that
marvellous thing just now--such delicious heartbreak, such adorable
gaiety, and now and then the thunder of the gods! I'm afraid you'll
think me very ignorant--it wasn't Grieg, was it?'

He looked uncomfortable. 'Nothing so good, I fear--a mere impromptu of
my own.'

'Your own!' She clapped her jewelled hands in girlish delight. 'Oh,
where can I get it?'

'East Side,' some mocking demon tried to reply; but he crushed her
down, and replied uneasily: 'You can't get it. It just came to me this
afternoon. It came--and it has gone.'

'What a pity!' But she was visibly impressed by this fecundity and
riotous extravagance of genius. 'I do hope you will try to remember
it.'

'Impossible--it was just a mood.'

'And to think of all the other moods I seem to have missed! Why have I
not heard you in America?'

He grew red. 'I--I haven't been playing there,' he murmured. 'You see,
I'm not much known outside a few European circles.' Then, summoning up
all his courage, he threw