nd began to talk in an animated manner about their use. The
audience had no longer any ears for the symphony, and though it went
steadily on, they were all eyes to see and admire their favorite thus
"at home" among them.

Having arranged everything to her satisfaction, she came down into the
house and was quickly surrounded by a group of artists and others. For
all she had a hearty hand shake, a smile, and words of genial and
animated welcome. No pretty miss in the company more admired, no merry
talker more sought for than this unaffected, simple-minded woman.
Beating time on the back of the seat with one finger, nodding to
acquaintances, speaking to all in turn, now in French, and now in the
best of English, she sat the most observed and admired of all the goodly
company, and the most serene and happy.

Presently the symphony rehearsal came to an end, and, without the
slightest hint of affectation, she rose from her seat, smiled her
adieus, and went to the stage. Selecting a violin from its blue satin
wrappings, she threw a white silk handkerchief over her left shoulder,
tuned her violin, and took her place at the front of the stage in the
centre of the orchestra. Tall Carl Zerrahn on his stand seems
particularly giantesque beside such a little lady, and he pushed the
platform on one side and stood upon the stage, to be nearer to her. She
gave nods of recognition to members of the orchestra, shook hands with
Zerrahn, smiled and talked merrily with the leading violin, and then
explained something concerning the music to Zerrahn. With her bow she
gave the time, and the opening prelude began. She adjusted her
handkerchief to her shoulder, and with a light touch played snatches of
the orchestral part, as if to give a hint as to its proper rendering.
Now comes the solo. The accompaniment is hushed, that not a note of the
golden Mozartian melody be lost. Of her performance we will not here
speak in detail, as it is described a page or two further on. Our
present concern is with Madam Urso as a woman at home in her art, and
among friends. Suddenly, in the midst of a brilliant passage, she stops,
and lifting one finger she says, so that all can hear: "F natural." The
first violins are caught napping, and without a book, and while playing
her own part, she detects and corrects a mistake of a semitone in the
accompaniment. There is no self-assertion or parade, but only an arch
smile and a merry shake of the head, as if it was a