第16章

Isometimeswonderwhethersheisnotglad。Freshassheisatitall，I’veoccasionallyfanciedthat，ifsheknewhow，shewouldliketo——diminish。"HemovedhislefthandoutintotheairasifheweresuggestingaDIMINUENDOtoanorchestra。

V

BYthefirstofFebruaryTheahadbeeninChicagoal—

mostfourmonths，andshedidnotknowmuchmoreaboutthecitythanifshehadneverquittedMoonstone。

Shewas，asHarsanyisaid，incurious。Herworktookmostofhertime，andshefoundthatshehadtosleepagooddeal。Ithadneverbeforebeensohardtogetupinthemorning。Shehadthebotherofcaringforherroom，andshehadtobuildherfireandbringuphercoal。HerroutinewasfrequentlyinterruptedbyamessagefromMr。Larsensummoninghertosingatafuneral。Everyfuneraltookhalfaday，andthetimehadtobemadeup。WhenMrs。

Harsanyiaskedherifitdidnotdepresshertosingatfu—

nerals，sherepliedthatshe"hadbeenbroughtuptogotofuneralsanddidn’tmind。"

Theaneverwentintoshopsunlessshehadto，andshefeltnointerestinthem。Indeed，sheshunnedthem，asplaceswhereonewassuretobepartedfromone’smoneyinsomeway。Shewasnervousaboutcountingherchange，andshecouldnotaccustomherselftohavingherpurchasessenttoheraddress。Shefeltmuchsaferwithherbundlesunderherarm。

DuringthisfirstwinterTheagotnocityconsciousness。

Chicagowassimplyawildernessthroughwhichonehadtofindone’sway。Shefeltnointerestinthegeneralbrisknessandzestofthecrowds。Thecrashandscrambleofthatbig，rich，appetentWesterncityshedidnottakeinatall，excepttonoticethatthenoiseofthedraysandstreet—carstiredher。Thebrilliantwindowdisplays，thesplendidfursandstuffs，thegorgeousflower—shops，thegaycandy—shops，shescarcelynoticed。AtChristmas—timeshedidfeelsomecuriosityaboutthetoy—stores，andshewishedsheheld

Thor’slittlemittenedfistinherhandasshestoodbeforethewindows。Thejewelers’windows，too，hadastrongattractionforher——shehadalwayslikedbrightstones。

Whenshewentintothecitysheusedtobravethebitinglakewindsandstandgazinginatthedisplaysofdiamondsandpearlsandemeralds；thetiarasandnecklacesandear—

rings，onwhitevelvet。Theseseemedverywellworthwhiletoher，thingsworthcoveting。

Mrs。LorchandMrs。AndersenoftentoldeachotheritwasstrangethatMissKronborghadsolittleinitiativeabout"visitingpointsofinterest。"WhenTheacametolivewiththemshehadexpressedawishtoseetwoplaces：MontgomeryWardandCompany’sbigmail—orderstore，andthepacking—houses，towhichallthehogsandcattlethatwentthroughMoonstonewerebound。OneofMrs。Lorch’slodgersworkedinapacking—house，andMrs。AndersenbroughtTheawordthatshehadspokentoMr。EckmanandhewouldgladlytakehertoPacking—

town。EckmanwasatoughishyoungSwede，andhethoughtitwouldbesomethingofalarktotakeaprettygirlthroughtheslaughter—houses。Buthewasdisap—

pointed。Theaneithergrewfaintnorclungtothearmhekeptofferingher。Sheaskedinnumerablequestionsandwasimpatientbecauseheknewsolittleofwhatwasgoingonoutsideofhisowndepartment。Whentheygotoffthestreet—carandwalkedbacktoMrs。Lorch’shouseinthedusk，Eckmanputherhandinhisovercoatpocket——shehadnomuff——andkeptsqueezingitardentlyuntilshesaid，"Don’tdothat；myringcutsme。"Thatnighthetoldhisroommatethathe"couldhavekissedheraseasyasrollingoffalog，butshewasn’tworththetrouble。"AsforThea，shehadenjoyedtheafternoonverymuch，andwroteherfatherabriefbutclearaccountofwhatshehadseen。

OnenightatsupperMrs。Andersenwastalkingabouttheexhibitofstudents’workshehadseenattheArtIn—

stitutethatafternoon。Severalofherfriendshadsketchesintheexhibit。Thea，whoalwaysfeltthatshewasbe—

hindhandincourtesytoMrs。Andersen，thoughtthatherewasanopportunitytoshowinterestwithoutcommittingherselftoanything。"Whereisthat，theInstitute？"sheaskedabsently。

Mrs。Andersenclaspedhernapkininbothhands。"TheArtInstitute？OurbeautifulArtInstituteonMichiganAvenue？Doyoumeantosayyouhavenevervisitedit？"

"Oh，isittheplacewiththebiglionsoutinfront？I

remember；IsawitwhenIwenttoMontgomeryWard’s。

Yes，Ithoughtthelionswerebeautiful。"

"Butthepictures！Didn’tyouvisitthegalleries？"

"No。Thesignoutsidesaiditwasapay—day。I’veal—

waysmeanttogoback，butIhaven’thappenedtobedownthatwaysince。"

Mrs。LorchandMrs。Andersenlookedateachother。

Theoldmotherspoke，fixinghershininglittleeyesuponTheaacrossthetable。"Ah，butMissKronborg，thereareoldmasters！Oh，manyofthem，suchasyoucouldnotseeanywhereoutofEurope。"

"AndCorots，"breathedMrs。Andersen，tiltingherheadfeelingly。"SuchexamplesoftheBarbizonschool！"

ThiswasmeaninglesstoThea，whodidnotreadtheartcolumnsoftheSundayINTER—OCEANasMrs。Andersendid。

"Oh，I’mgoingtheresomeday，"shereassuredthem。

"Iliketolookatoilpaintings。"

OnebleakdayinFebruary，whenthewindwasblow—

ingcloudsofdirtlikeaMoonstonesandstorm，dirtthatfilledyoureyesandearsandmouth，TheafoughtherwayacrosstheunprotectedspaceinfrontoftheArtInstituteandintothedoorsofthebuilding。Shedidnotcomeoutagainuntiltheclosinghour。Inthestreet—car，onthelongcoldridehome，whileshesatstaringatthewaistcoatbut—

tonsofafatstrap—hanger，shehadaseriousreckoningwithherself。Sheseldomthoughtaboutherwayoflife，about

whatsheoughtoroughtnottodo；usuallytherewasbutoneobviousandimportantthingtobedone。Butthatafternoonsheremonstratedwithherselfseverely。Shetoldherselfthatshewasmissingagreatdeal；thatsheoughttobemorewillingtotakeadviceandtogotoseethings。ShewassorrythatshehadletmonthspasswithoutgoingtotheArtInstitute。Afterthisshewouldgoonceaweek。

TheInstituteproved，indeed，aplaceofretreat，asthesandhillsortheKohlers’gardenusedtobe；aplacewhereshecouldforgetMrs。Andersen’stiresomeoverturesoffriendship，thestoutcontraltointhechoirwhomshesounreasonablyhated，andeven，foralittlewhile，thetormentofherwork。Thatbuildingwasaplaceinwhichshecouldrelaxandplay，andshecouldhardlyeverplaynow。Onthewhole，shespentmoretimewiththecaststhanwiththepictures。Theywereatoncemoresimpleandmoreperplexing；andsomewaytheyseemedmoreimportant，hardertooverlook。Itneveroccurredtohertobuyacatalogue，soshecalledmostofthecastsbynamesshemadeupforthem。Someofthemsheknew；theDyingGladiatorshehadreadaboutin"ChildeHarold"almostaslongagoasshecouldremember；hewasstronglyas—

sociatedwithDr。Archieandchildishillnesses。TheVenusdiMilopuzzledher；shecouldnotseewhypeoplethoughthersobeautiful。ShetoldherselfoverandoverthatshedidnotthinktheApolloBelvedere"atallhandsome。"

Betterthananythingelseshelikedagreatequestrianstatueofanevil，cruel—lookinggeneralwithanunpro—

nounceablename。Sheusedtowalkroundandroundthisterriblemanandhisterriblehorse，frowningathim，brood—

inguponhim，asifshehadtomakesomemomentousde—

cisionabouthim。

Thecasts，whenshelingeredlongamongthem，alwaysmadehergloomy。Itwaswithalighteningoftheheart，afeelingofthrowingofftheoldmiseriesandoldsorrowsoftheworld，thatsheranupthewidestaircasetothepic—

tures。Thereshelikedbesttheonesthattoldstories。

TherewasapaintingbyGeromecalled"ThePasha’sGrief"whichalwaysmadeherwishforGunnerandAxel。

ThePashawasseatedonarug，besideagreencandleal—

mostasbigasatelegraphpole，andbeforehimwasstretchedhisdeadtiger，asplendidbeast，andtherewerepinkrosesscatteredabouthim。Sheloved，too，apictureofsomeboysbringinginanewborncalfonalitter，thecowwalkingbesideitandlickingit。TheCorotwhichhungnexttothispaintingshedidnotlikeordislike；sheneversawit。

Butinthatsameroomtherewasapicture——oh，thatwasthethingsheranupstairssofasttosee！Thatwasherpicture。Sheimaginedthatnobodycaredforitbutherself，andthatitwaitedforher。Thatwasapicturein—

deed。Shelikedeventhenameofit，"TheSongoftheLark。"Theflatcountry，theearlymorninglight，thewetfields，thelookinthegirl’sheavyface——well，theywereallhers，anyhow，whateverwasthere。Shetoldherselfthatthatpicturewas"right。"Justwhatshemeantbythis，itwouldtakeacleverpersontoexplain。Buttoherthewordcoveredthealmostboundlesssatisfactionshefeltwhenshelookedatthepicture。

BeforeTheahadanyideahowfasttheweekswerefly—

ing，beforeMr。Larsen’s"permanent"sopranohadre—

turnedtoherduties，springcame；windy，dusty，strident，shrill；aseasonalmostmoreviolentinChicagothanthewinterfromwhichitreleasesone，ortheheattowhichiteventuallydeliversone。OnesunnymorningtheappletreesinMrs。Lorch’sbackyardburstintobloom，andforthefirsttimeinmonthsTheadressedwithoutbuildingafire。Themorningshonelikeaholiday，andforheritwastobeaholiday。Therewasintheairthatsudden，treacher—

oussoftnesswhichmakesthePoleswhoworkinthepack—

ing—housesgetdrunk。Atsuchtimesbeautyisnecessary，andinPackingtownthereisnoplacetogetitexceptatthe

saloons，whereonecanbuyforafewhourstheillusionofcomfort，hope，love，——whateveronemostlongsfor。

HarsanyihadgivenTheaaticketforthesymphonyconcertthatafternoon，andwhenshelookedoutatthewhiteappletreesherdoubtsastowhethersheoughttogovanishedatonce。Shewouldmakeherworklightthatmorning，shetoldherself。Shewouldgototheconcertfullofenergy。Whenshesetoff，afterdinner，Mrs。Lorch，whoknewChicagoweather，prevaileduponhertotakehercape。Theoldladysaidthatsuchsuddenmildness，soearlyinApril，presagedasharpreturnofwinter，andshewasanxiousaboutherappletrees。

Theconcertbeganattwo—thirty，andTheawasinherseatintheAuditoriumattenminutesaftertwo——afineseatinthefirstrowofthebalcony，ontheside，whereshecouldseethehouseaswellastheorchestra。Shehadbeentosofewconcertsthatthegreathouse，thecrowdofpeople，andthelights，allhadastimulatingeffect。Shewassurprisedtoseesomanymenintheaudience，andwonderedhowtheycouldleavetheirbusinessintheafter—

noon。DuringthefirstnumberTheawassomuchinter—

estedintheorchestraitself，inthemen，theinstruments，thevolumeofsound，thatshepaidlittleattentiontowhattheywereplaying。Herexcitementimpairedherpoweroflistening。Shekeptsayingtoherself，"NowImuststopthisfoolishnessandlisten；Imayneverhearthisagain"；buthermindwaslikeaglassthatishardtofocus。Shewasnotreadytolistenuntilthesecondnum—

ber，Dvorak’sSymphonyinEminor，calledonthepro—

gramme，"FromtheNewWorld。"Thefirstthemehadscarcelybeengivenoutwhenhermindbecameclear；in—

stantcomposurefelluponher，andwithitcamethepowerofconcentration。Thiswasmusicshecouldunderstand，musicfromtheNewWorldindeed！Strangehow，asthefirstmovementwenton，itbroughtbacktoherthathightablelandaboveLaramie；thegrass—grownwagon

trails，thefar—awaypeaksofthesnowyrange，thewindandtheeagles，thatoldmanandthefirsttelegraphmessage。

Whenthefirstmovementended，Thea’shandsandfeetwerecoldasice。Shewastoomuchexcitedtoknowany—

thingexceptthatshewantedsomethingdesperately，andwhentheEnglishhornsgaveoutthethemeoftheLargo，sheknewthatwhatshewantedwasexactlythat。Herewerethesandhills，thegrasshoppersandlocusts，allthethingsthatwakenedandchirpedintheearlymorning；

thereachingandreachingofhighplains，theimmeas—

urableyearningofallflatlands。Therewashomeinit，too；firstmemories，firstmorningslongago；theamaze—

mentofanewsoulinanewworld；asoulnewandyetold，thathaddreamedsomethingdespairing，somethingglori—

ous，inthedarkbeforeitwasborn；asoulobsessedbywhatitdidnotknow，underthecloudofapastitcouldnotre—

call。

IfTheahadhadmuchexperienceinconcert—going，andhadknownherowncapacity，shewouldhaveleftthehallwhenthesymphonywasover。Butshesatstill，scarcelyknowingwhereshewas，becausehermindhadbeenfarawayandhadnotyetcomebacktoher。Shewasstartledwhentheorchestrabegantoplayagain——theentryofthegodsintoWalhalla。Shehearditaspeoplehearthingsintheirsleep。SheknewscarcelyanythingabouttheWagneroperas。Shehadavagueideathat"Rhinegold"wasaboutthestrifebetweengodsandmen；

shehadreadsomethingaboutitinMr。Haweis’sbooklongago。Tootiredtofollowtheorchestrawithmuchunder—

standing，shecroucheddowninherseatandclosedhereyes。Thecold，statelymeasuresoftheWalhallamusicrangout，faraway；therainbowbridgethrobbedoutintotheair，underitthewailingoftheRhinedaughtersandthesingingoftheRhine。ButTheawassunkintwilight；

itwasallgoingoninanotherworld。Soithappenedthatwithadull，almostlistlessearsheheardforthefirsttime

thattroubledmusic，ever—darkening，ever—brightening，whichwastoflowthroughsomanyyearsofherlife。

WhenTheaemergedfromtheconcerthall，Mrs。Lorch’spredictionshadbeenfulfilled。AfuriousgalewasbeatingoverthecityfromLakeMichigan。Thestreetswerefullofcold，hurrying，angrypeople，runningforstreet—carsandbarkingateachother。Thesunwassettinginaclear，windysky，thatflamedwithredasiftherewereagreatfiresomewhereontheedgeofthecity。ForalmostthefirsttimeTheawasconsciousofthecityitself，ofthecon—

gestionoflifeallabouther，ofthebrutalityandpowerofthosestreamsthatflowedinthestreets，threateningtodriveoneunder。Peoplejostledher，ranintoher，pokedherasidewiththeirelbows，utteringangryexclamations。

Shegotonthewrongcarandwasroughlyejectedbytheconductoratawindycorner，infrontofasaloon。Shestoodtheredazedandshivering。Thecarspassed，screamingastheyroundedcurves，buteithertheywerefulltothedoors，orwereboundforplaceswhereshedidnotwanttogo。

Herhandsweresocoldthatshetookoffhertightkidgloves。Thestreetlightsbegantogleaminthedusk。A

youngmancameoutofthesaloonandstoodeyeingherquestioninglywhilehelitacigarette。"Lookingforafriendto—night？"heasked。Theadrewupthecollarofhercapeandwalkedonafewpaces。Theyoungmanshruggedhisshouldersanddriftedaway。

Theacamebacktothecornerandstoodthereirreso—

lutely。Anoldmanapproachedher。He，too，seemedtobewaitingforacar。Heworeanovercoatwithablackfurcollar，hisgraymustachewaswaxedintolittlepoints，andhiseyeswerewatery。Hekeptthrustinghisfaceupnearhers。Herhatblewoffandheranafterit——astiff，pitifulskiphehad——andbroughtitbacktoher。Then，whileshewaspinningherhaton，hercapeblewup，andhehelditdownforher，lookingatherintently。Hisfaceworkedasifheweregoingtocryorwerefrightened。Heleaned

overandwhisperedsomethingtoher。Itstruckherascuriousthathewasreallyquitetimid，likeanoldbeggar。

"Oh，letmeALONE！"shecriedmiserablybetweenherteeth。

Hevanished，disappearedliketheDevilinaplay。Butinthemeantimesomethinghadgotawayfromher；shecouldnotrememberhowtheviolinscameinafterthehorns，justthere。Whenhercapeblewup，perhaps——Whydidthesementormenther？Acloudofdustblewinherfaceandblindedher。Therewassomepowerabroadintheworldbentupontakingawayfromherthatfeelingwithwhichshehadcomeoutoftheconcerthall。Everythingseemedtosweepdownonhertotearitoutfromunderhercape。Ifonehadthat，theworldbecameone’senemy；

people，buildings，wagons，cars，rushedatonetocrushitunder，tomakeoneletgoofit。Theaglaredroundheratthecrowds，theugly，sprawlingstreets，thelonglinesoflights，andshewasnotcryingnow。HereyeswerebrighterthanevenHarsanyihadeverseenthem。Allthesethingsandpeoplewerenolongerremoteandnegli—

gible；theyhadtobemet，theywerelinedupagainsther，theyweretheretotakesomethingfromher。Verywell；

theyshouldneverhaveit。Theymighttramplehertodeath，buttheyshouldneverhaveit。Aslongasshelivedthatecstasywasgoingtobehers。Shewouldliveforit，workforit，dieforit；butshewasgoingtohaveit，timeaftertime，heightafterheight。Shecouldhearthecrashoftheorchestraagain，andsheroseonthebrasses。Shewouldhaveit，whatthetrumpetsweresinging！Shewouldhaveit，haveit，——it！Undertheoldcapeshepressedherhandsuponherheavingbosom，thatwasalittlegirl’snolonger。

VI

ONEafternooninApril，TheodoreThomas，thecon—

ductoroftheChicagoSymphonyOrchestra，hadturnedouthisdesklightandwasabouttoleavehisofficeintheAuditoriumBuilding，whenHarsanyiappearedinthedoorway。Theconductorwelcomedhimwithaheartyhand—gripandthrewofftheovercoathehadjustputon。

HepushedHarsanyiintoachairandsatdownathisbur—

deneddesk，pointingtothepilesofpapersandrailwayfoldersuponit。

"Anothertour，cleartothecoast。Thistravelingisthepartofmyworkthatgrindsme，Andor。Youknowwhatitmeans：badfood，dirt，noise，exhaustionforthemenandforme。I’mnotsoyoungasIoncewas。It’stimeIquitthehighway。Thisisthelasttour，Iswear！"

"ThenI’msorryforthe`highway。’IrememberwhenI

firstheardyouinPittsburg，longago。Itwasalife—lineyouthrewme。It’saboutoneofthepeoplealongyourhigh—

waythatI’vecometoseeyou。WhomdoyouconsiderthebestteacherforvoiceinChicago？"

Mr。Thomasfrownedandpulledhisheavymustache。

"Letmesee；IsupposeonthewholeMadisonBowersisthebest。He’sintelligent，andhehadgoodtraining。I

don’tlikehim。"

Harsanyinodded。"Ithoughttherewasnooneelse。

Idon’tlikehim，either，soIhesitated。ButIsupposehemustdo，forthepresent。"

"Haveyoufoundanythingpromising？Oneofyourownstudents？"

"Yes，sir。AyoungSwedishgirlfromsomewhereinColorado。Sheisverytalented，andsheseemstometohavearemarkablevoice。"

"Highvoice？"

"Ithinkitwillbe；thoughherlowvoicehasabeauti—

fulquality，veryindividual。Shehashadnoinstructioninvoiceatall，andIshrinkfromhandingherovertoany—

body；herowninstinctaboutithasbeensogood。Itisoneofthosevoicesthatmanagesitselfeasily，withoutthinningasitgoesup；goodbreathingandperfectrelaxa—

tion。Butshemusthaveateacher，ofcourse。Thereisabreakinthemiddlevoice，sothatthevoicedoesnotallworktogether；anunevenness。"

Thomaslookedup。"So？Curious；thatcleftoftenhappenswiththeSwedes。Someoftheirbestsingershavehadit。Italwaysremindsmeofthespaceyousooftenseebetweentheirfrontteeth。Isshestrongphysically？"

Harsanyi’seyeflashed。Heliftedhishandbeforehimandclenchedit。"Likeahorse，likeatree！EverytimeIgiveheralesson，Iloseapound。Shegoesafterwhatshewants。"

"Intelligent，yousay？Musicallyintelligent？"

"Yes；butnocultivationwhatever。Shecametomelikeafineyoungsavage，abookwithnothingwritteninit。

ThatiswhyIfeeltheresponsibilityofdirectingher。"

Harsanyipausedandcrushedhissoftgrayhatoverhisknee。"Shewouldinterestyou，Mr。Thomas，"headdedslowly。"Shehasaquality——veryindividual。"

"Yes；theScandinaviansareapttohavethat，too。Shecan’tgotoGermany，Isuppose？"

"Notnow，atanyrate。Sheispoor。"

Thomasfrownedagain"Idon’tthinkBowersareallyfirst—rateman。He’stoopettytobereallyfirst—rate；inhisnature，Imean。ButIdaresayhe’sthebestyoucando，ifyoucan’tgivehertimeenoughyourself。"

Harsanyiwavedhishand。"Oh，thetimeisnothing——shemayhaveallshewants。ButIcannotteachhertosing。"

"Mightnotcomeamissifyoumadeamusicianofher，however，"saidMr。Thomasdryly。

"Ihavedonemybest。ButIcanonlyplaywithavoice，andthisisnotavoicetobeplayedwith。Ithinkshewillbeamusician，whateverhappens。Sheisnotquick，butsheissolid，real；notliketheseothers。Mywifesaysthatwiththatgirloneswallowdoesnotmakeasummer。"

Mr。Thomaslaughed。"TellMrs。Harsanyithatherremarkconveyssomethingtome。Don’tletyourselfgettoomuchinterested。Voicesaresooftendisappointing；

especiallywomen’svoices。Somuchchanceaboutit，somanyfactors。"

"Perhapsthatiswhytheyinterestone。Alltheintelli—

genceandtalentintheworldcan’tmakeasinger。Thevoiceisawildthing。Itcan’tbebredincaptivity。Itisasport，likethesilverfox。Ithappens。"

Mr。ThomassmiledintoHarsanyi’sgleamingeye。

"Whyhaven’tyoubroughthertosingforme？"

"I’vebeentemptedto，butIknewyouweredriventodeath，withthistourconfrontingyou。"

"Oh，Icanalwaysfindtimetolistentoagirlwhohasavoice，ifshemeansbusiness。I’msorryI’mleavingsosoon。IcouldadviseyoubetterifIhadheardher。Icansometimesgiveasingersuggestions。I’veworkedsomuchwiththem。"

"You’retheonlyconductorIknowwhoisnotsnobbishaboutsingers。"Harsanyispokewarmly。

"Dearme，whyshouldIbe？They’velearnedfromme，andI’velearnedfromthem。"Astheyrose，Thomastooktheyoungermanaffectionatelybythearm。"Tellmeaboutthatwifeofyours。Isshewell，andaslovelyasever？

Andsuchfinechildren！Cometoseemeoftener，whenIgetback。Imissitwhenyoudon’t。"

ThetwomenlefttheAuditoriumBuildingtogether。

Harsanyiwalkedhome。EvenashorttalkwithThomasalwaysstimulatedhim。AshewalkedhewasrecallinganeveningtheyoncespenttogetherinCincinnati。

HarsanyiwasthesoloistatoneofThomas’sconcerts

there，andaftertheperformancetheconductorhadtakenhimofftoaRATHSKELLERwheretherewasexcellentGermancooking，andwheretheproprietorsawtoitthatThomashadthebestwinesprocurable。ThomashadbeenworkingwiththegreatchorusoftheFestivalAssociationandwasspeakingofitwithenthusiasmwhenHarsanyiaskedhimhowitwasthathewasabletofeelsuchaninterestinchoraldirectingandinvoicesgenerally。Thomasseldomspokeofhisyouthorhisearlystruggles，butthatnightheturnedbackthepagesandtoldHarsanyialongstory。

HesaidhehadspentthesummerofhisfifteenthyearwanderingaboutaloneintheSouth，givingviolincon—

certsinlittletowns。Hetraveledonhorseback。Whenhecameintoatown，hewentaboutalldaytackinguppostersannouncinghisconcertintheevening。Beforetheconcert，hestoodatthedoortakingintheadmissionmoneyuntilhisaudiencehadarrived，andthenhewentontheplatformandplayed。Itwasalazy，hand—to—mouthex—

istence，andThomassaidhemusthavegottolikethateasywayoflivingandtherelaxingSouthernatmosphere。

Atanyrate，whenhegotbacktoNewYorkinthefall，hewasrathertorpid；perhapshehadbeengrowingtoofast。

Fromthisadolescentdrowsinesstheladwasawakenedbytwovoices，bytwowomenwhosanginNewYorkin1851，——JennyLindandHenriettaSontag。Theywerethefirstgreatartistshehadeverheard，andheneverforgothisdebttothem。

Ashesaid，"Itwasnotvoiceandexecutionalone。Therewasagreatnessaboutthem。Theyweregreatwomen，greatartists。Theyopenedanewworldtome。"Nightafternighthewenttohearthem，strivingtoreproducethequalityoftheirtoneuponhisviolin。Fromthattimehisideaaboutstringswascompletelychanged，andonhisviolinhetriedalwaysforthesinging，vibratingtone，in—

steadoftheloudandsomewhatharshtonethenprevalentamongeventhebestGermanviolinists。Inlateryearshe

oftenadvisedvioliniststostudysinging，andsingerstostudyviolin。HetoldHarsanyithathegothisfirstcon—

ceptionoftonequalityfromJennyLind。

"But，ofcourse，"headded，"thegreatthingIgotfromLindandSontagwastheindefinite，notthedefinite，thing。

Foranimpressionableboy，theirinspirationwasincalcu—

lable。TheygavememyfirstfeelingfortheItalianstyle——butIcouldneversayhowmuchtheygaveme。Atthatage，suchinfluencesareactuallycreative。Ialwaysthinkofmyartisticconsciousnessasbeginningthen。"

AllhislifeThomasdidhisbesttorepaywhathefeltheowedtothesinger’sart。Nomancouldgetsuchsingingfromchoruses，andnomanworkedhardertoraisethestandardofsinginginschoolsandchurchesandchoralsocieties。

VII

AllthroughthelessonTheahadfeltthatHarsanyiwasrestlessandabstracted。Beforethehourwasover，hepushedbackhischairandsaidresolutely，"Iamnotinthemood，MissKronborg。Ihavesomethingonmymind，andImusttalktoyou。Whendoyouintendtogohome？"

Theaturnedtohiminsurprise。"ThefirstofJune，about。Mr。Larsenwillnotneedmeafterthat，andIhavenotmuchmoneyahead。Ishallworkhardthissummer，though。"