in the
_Trio_ and the _Fugue_ with its abrupt questions and answers; all this
seemed to him like a moving picture of the inner life of man.

And while he followed it, the other half of his mind was watching the
players, no longer as a group, a unit of disciplined action, but as
individuals, persons for each of whom life had a distinct colour, and
tone, and meaning.

His eyes rested unconsciously on the pale, dreamy face of the second
violinist; the black, rugged brows of the trumpeter; the long, gentle
countenance of the flute-player with its flexible lips and blond
beard.

The grizzled head of the 'cellist bent over his instrument with an air
of quiet devotion. The burly form of the player of the double-bassoon,
behind his rare and awkward instrument, waiting for his time to come
in, had the look of a man who could not be surprised or troubled by
anything. One of the bass-violinists had the rough-hewn figure and the
divinely chiseled, sorrow-lighted face of Lincoln, the others were
children of the everyday. The clarionettist, with his dark beard and
high temples, might have sat for Rembrandt's picture of "The
Philosopher." The rotund kettle-drummer, with his smooth head and
sparkling eyes, restlessly turning his little keys and bending down to
listen to the tuning of his grotesque music-pots, seemed impatient for
the part in the score when he was to build the magical bridge, on
which the symphony passes, without a break, from the third to the last
movement.

"All these persons," said the inner voice of the Music-Lover (he
listening all the while to the entangling and unfolding, dismissing
and recalling of the various motives)--"all these persons have their
own lives and characters. They have known joys and sorrows, failures
and successes. They have hoped and feared. All that Beethoven poured
into this music from his experience of poverty, of conflict with
physical weakness and the cruel limitations of Fate, of baffled
desire, of loneliness, of strong resolution, of immortal courage and
faith, these players in their measure and degree have known.

"Even now they may be in love, in hatred, in friendship, in jealousy,
in gloom, in resignation, in courage, or in happiness. What strange
paths lie behind them; what laughter and what tears have they shared;
what secret ties unite them, one with another, and what hidden
barriers rise between those who do not understand and those who do not
care! There are many stories