he worm-eaten table at the young singer. "We,"
he continued, "who have been wretchedly poor know better than others
that Art is real, true, and enduring; medicine in sickness and food in
famine; wings to the feet of youth and a staff for the steps of old
age. Do you think I exaggerate, or do you feel as I do?" He paused for
an answer, and poured more wine into his goblet.

"Oh, you know I feel as you do!" cried Nino, with rising enthusiasm.

"Very good; you are a genuine artist. What you have not felt yet you
will feel hereafter. You have not suffered yet."

"You do not know about me," said Nino in a low voice. "I am suffering
now."

Benoni smiled. "Do you call that suffering? Well, it is perhaps very
real to you, though I do not know what it is. But Art will help you
through it all, as it has helped me."

"What were you?" asked Nino. "You say you were poor."

"Yes. I was a shoemaker, and a poor one at that. I have worn out more
shoes than I ever made. But I was brought up to it for many years."

"You did not study music from a child, then?"

"No. But I always loved it; and I used to play in the evenings when I
had been cobbling all day long."

"And one day you found out you were a great artist and became famous.
I see! What a strange beginning!" cried Nino.

"Not exactly that. It took a long time. I was obliged to leave my
home, for other reasons, and then I played from door to door, and from
town to town, for whatever coppers were thrown to me. I had never
heard any good music, and so I played the things that came into my
head. By and bye people would make me stay with them awhile, for my
music sake. But I never stayed long."

"Why not?"

"I cannot tell you now," said Benoni, looking grave and almost sad:
"it is a very long story. I have travelled a great deal, preferring a
life of adventure. But of late money has grown to be so important a
thing that I have given a series of great concerts, and have become
rich enough to play for my own pleasure. Besides, though I travel so
much, I like society, and I know many people everywhere. To-night, for
instance, though I have been in Rome only a week, I have been to a
dinner party, to the theatre, to a reception, and to a ball. Everybody
invites me as soon as I arrive. I am very popular,--and yet I am a
Jew," he added, laughing in an odd way.

"But you are a merry Jew," said Nino, laughing too, "besides being a
great genius. I do not wonder people invite you."