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 BERT 
 LESTON 
 TAYLOR 
 
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THE CHARLATANS 
 
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 '^^^Dl-eafrti^ of the World Beyond her Valley" Sec page j 
 
THE 
 
 CHARLATANS 
 
 By 
 BERT LESTON TAYLOR 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 GEORGE BREHM 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYMGHT 1906 
 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 October 
 
 Press of 
 
 braunwo«th & co. 
 
 eookbindef^s and printers 
 
 brooklyn, n. y. 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
 925730 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I By the Rivert Brim ... 1 
 II Southward 18 
 
 III In Which Our Princess Sets Up a 
 
 Modest Establishment . . 33 
 
 IV Introducing Doctor Rudolf Erdmann 
 
 and Mr. Arthur West . . 46 
 
 V Concerning a Concert, and Some 
 
 People Who Were There . , 61 
 
 VI An Old Religion and a New Woman 76 
 
 VII The Broad Way to Parnassus . 86 
 
 VIII Touching Matters of Minor Importance 102 
 
 IX The Prince and the Goose . .110 
 
 X A Clatter of Musical Shop ; With Some 
 
 Rules for Succeeding in Literature 122 
 XI In Which Two Maids Let Down 
 
 Their Hair . . . .134 
 
 XII The Critic to the Post . . .147 
 
 XIII The Cabochon Emerald Again . 159 
 
 XIV The Making of a Gown . . .172 
 XV Mrs. Addison West^ Musicale . .182 
 
 XVI A Further Account of the Musicale 195 
 XVII In Which a Young Gentleman Presumes 
 
 to Advise a Young Lady . . 206 
 XVIII Penumbras of Proximate Events . 221 
 XIX In Which Our Princess Turns Over 
 
 a New Leaf . . . .236 
 
CONTENTS— Continued 
 
 XX 
 
 "Love in the Valley" 
 
 249 
 
 XXI 
 
 Containing the Substance of Several 
 
 
 
 Letters 
 
 260 
 
 XXII 
 
 "The* Queen's Maying" . 
 
 269 
 
 XXIII 
 
 A Rhapsody and a Farewell . 
 
 279 
 
 XXIV 
 
 In Which, Among Other Things, 
 Madame Jesurin Makes an 
 
 
 
 Interesting Discovery . 
 
 291 
 
 XXV 
 
 The Happiness of a Certain Young 
 
 
 
 Gentleman is Seriously Considered 
 
 305 
 
 XXVI 
 
 The Happiness of a Certain Young 
 
 
 
 Gentleman is Apparently Decided 
 
 314 
 
 XXVII 
 
 In W^hich Karl Geist Makes a 
 
 
 
 Casual Call 
 
 325 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A Change in the Programme . 
 
 . 334 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The Camp on the Popple 
 
 . 345 
 
 XXX 
 
 The Lantern Bearer 
 
 357 
 
 XXXI 
 
 The Love Quest . . . , 
 
 368 
 
 XXXII 
 
 In Which the Prince Comes — . 
 
 378 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 — And the Sleeping Beauty Awaken 
 
 s 386 
 
DORNROSCHEN 
 
 In the great hall of Castle Innocence, 
 
 Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and 
 fears, — 
 Within, without, a silence grave, intense. 
 
 Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years. 
 
 Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and fears; 
 
 And all save one the thither path shall miss. 
 Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years, 
 
 Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss. 
 
 And all save one the thither path shall miss ; 
 
 For one alone may thread the thorn defense. 
 Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss, 
 
 A hush broods over Castle Innocence, 
 
 For one alone may thread the thorn defense. 
 Care free, heart free, and singing on his way. 
 
 A hush broods over Castle Innocence 
 
 One comes to wake; but when — ah, who can say! . 
 
 Care free, heart free, and singing on his way. 
 One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare. 
 
 One comes to wake ! But when ? Ah, who can say 
 The hour his light feet press the castle stair ! 
 
 One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare ! 
 
 Thorns with his coming into roses bloom. 
 The hour his light feet press the castle stair 
 
 The warders of the castle hall give room. 
 
Thorns witli .Iiis, coming into roses bloom : 
 
 X: if 'jfT Hm'iKe fk)wer,s f;f Trust and Faith unfold. 
 
 The warders of the castle hall give room 
 
 Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold, 
 
 For him the flowers of Trust and Faith unfold: 
 Till then the thorns of maiden doubts and fears. 
 
 Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold 
 Her rose soul slumbers through the tranquil years. 
 
 Till then the thorns of maiden doubts and fears. 
 
 Within, without, a silence grave, intense. 
 Her rose soul slumbers through the tranquil years 
 
 In the great hall of Castle Innocence. 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 CHAPTER i;. ] ji-'Oi'^i'^ 
 
 BY THE river's BEIM 
 
 Princess Hope sat by the river's brim, her hands 
 clasped round her knees, a look in her eyes we call the 
 far-away. 
 
 Princess Hope, it may as well be owned at once, was 
 not a real Princess. Her gown was not of silk and 
 jewel-broidered; her hair was not spun gold, but a 
 wayward coil of chestnut, innocent of ornament ; her 
 face, profiled against the green terrace of a cascade, 
 was not the Princess face one sees in books of faery, 
 or encounters among portraits of existing royalty. 
 
 1 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 You would, perhaps, first remark the nose, which 
 was large, the line of it adventurous — confidently so. 
 Quite otherwise the cleft and rounded chin; here in- 
 decision lurked, questioning the other feature's daring. 
 Full lips between, hinting of a nature responsively 
 ardent, were tempered by spiritual brow and long 
 throat-line, wistfully advanced. A fair face, you 
 would say. A beautiful face, some would maintain — 
 opinions vary so; at all events, an interesting, an 
 unusual face. 
 
 - Her name was Hope Winston; her station in life, 
 a farmer's daughter. Then, why the "Princess".'' 
 yQitv1f7;ouM Inquii^, did you not suspect an explanation 
 close at hand. Why, then, the title was bestowed on 
 her by little Alice Winston, a romantic child whose 
 glowing fancy, nourished by fairy tales unnumbered, 
 imaged sister Hope adventuring forth into the great 
 wide world beyond their little valley, to return, very 
 shortly afterward, with a handsome king's son by 
 her side, in a purple chariot drawn by snow-white 
 steeds, or birds, or butterflies. I dare say that if you 
 pinned the child down to it, she would admit "p'tend- 
 Ing." We elders "pretend" as well, and with at best 
 pedestrian fancy. 
 
 Always It was the elder sister that rode In the 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 dream chariot. Hope, in the eyes of little Alice, was 
 a superior being (there is one such in every fam- 
 ily, as you have reason to know) — just the sort with 
 which fairies are fond of experimenting. For fair- 
 ies, as you need not be informed, when they would 
 shield a Princess against self-love and pride of station, 
 or some dire evil forecast by court astrologer, change 
 the little one in the cradle, that she may grow to years 
 of discretion in the family of some honest peasant, 
 who believes her to be his very own daughter. 
 
 In your excursions among the peasantry you must 
 have remarked more than one of these changeling 
 Princesses, who are to be recognized by their modesty, 
 amiability and gentle bearing. The writer well re- 
 members the summer morning he encountered one, and 
 inquired of her the way to a certain trout stream. ( He 
 knew the country quite as well as she, but feigned 
 ignorance that he might speak with her.) How 
 sweetly she directed him ! — ^he heard her voice all day 
 in the brook water. How lightly her little feet touched 
 earth when she tripped away ; how high she held her 
 head! And how the young man stared after, until 
 the jealous road crooked suddenly and hid her from 
 his sight. . . . 
 
 The conceit of the Prince and chariot gave Ahce 
 3 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 a deal of innocent pleasure, and fortunately, when 
 one considers the enormous mischief wrought by fairy 
 tales, did nobody a pennyworth of harm. Hope was 
 eighteen, and quite sensible for her years. She was 
 not without her own romantic notions — as which of us 
 is not? — ^but the Prince she might some day meet was 
 not associated in her mind with purple chariots, or 
 splendor of any surface sort; he existed as a beauti- 
 ful abstraction — as Prince of the Heart of Gold. Yet 
 it was not of the Prince she dreamed as she sat by the 
 river's brim. 
 
 It was a mad river — indeed, that was the name 
 given to it by the people who dwelt in its valley — a 
 mad little river of many moods and many, many voices. 
 It came from somewhere beyond the green notch in 
 the sky-line to the north, and ran, with many a hop, 
 skip and jump, past the little village of Swiftwater. 
 Here It neighbored the highway, which led northward 
 to Vanceburg, and southward, less specifically, to the 
 great wide world. 
 
 Of this world Hope had only Hearsay knowledge. 
 Her domain, in which her gentle sway was undisputed, 
 was bounded by the notch in the northern sky-line, 
 the bridge by the mill-pond, and the walls of the nar- 
 row valley; four miles of river — ^and she knew every 
 
 4 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 foot of the way. She knew where first would peep 
 forth, each spring, the leaves of trillium and sax- 
 ifrage; under which ledge would first nod columbine 
 and virgin's-bower ; behind which mossy rock the first 
 star-of -Bethlehem would rise; and where was tiny 
 bishop's-cap, and showy lady's-slipper, and Indian- 
 pipe that seeks the deepest shadow. 
 
 Now it was no longer spring, nor even summer. 
 October's haze enwrapped the valley. Dying grasses 
 and denuded boughs framed the nook in which our 
 Princess loitered — a green bowl into which tumbled a 
 cascade, and out of which ran the river, waist deep, 
 through a maze of alders. One might not come that 
 way without a wetting. 
 
 Here sat Hope, the look in her eyes we call the 
 far-away, dreaming of the world beyond her valley ; 
 of men and women who mattered in the scheme of 
 things, who lived to some purpose and did things, be- 
 cause the opportunity to live and do was theirs. 
 
 Ah, that the opportunity might also be hers ! She, 
 too, wanted to live, and do, and matter in the scheme 
 of things. Not an unusual aspiration in these days 
 of unshackled womanhood. Yet, whereas so many 
 maids aspire in a vague and general way, the ambition 
 of Princess Hope was definite and statable. 
 
 5 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Beside her on the bank lay a slender book — a mes- 
 sage, a call. *'Come unto us, " the burden of it ran, — 
 "Come unto us and learn to express your soul,** 
 
 "Nay, stay with me," whispered the Spirit of the 
 Woodland. "Thy soul shall blossom here as else- 
 where." 
 
 "Stay with me," babbled the little river of many 
 moods and many, many voices. "Stay with me," 
 piped a white-throat from a hazel covert. 
 
 But Princess Hope, for the first time deaf to the 
 voices of the wood and stream, looked steadily into the 
 south, over hill and dale, roof and spire — to the City 
 of the Soul. 
 
 Music was her passion — a passion that but re- 
 cently had flowered. She had escaped being a child 
 prodigy; Swiftwater was not an environment to de- 
 velop a musical Wunderkind. She was eight years 
 old before she sat willingly at the ancient square piano- 
 forte in the Winston "parlor," and discovered a real 
 interest in "Lucy Long." Even then, if the day were 
 fine, she would suddenly exhibit stupidity so exasperat- 
 ing that her mother was glad to bring the lesson to an 
 abrupt conclusion and send the child into the air 
 and sunshine. The little mother, when a girl, had 
 
 6 
 
BY THE RIVERAS BRIM 
 
 shown a talent for music, but, wanting cultivation, 
 it had come to nothing. 
 
 On rainy days and in winter time, little Hope 
 practised with industry and enthusiasm; and so swift 
 was her progress that in a year she was playing 
 "Autumn Leaves," "Forest Reveries," "Whisperings" 
 of this, "Rustlings" of that, "Silvery Waves," "Mon- 
 astery Bells," "Clayton's Grand March," and other 
 brave tunes of an elder day. These occupied her fin- 
 gers until her fourteenth birthday. 
 
 It was then decided that she should receive more 
 serious instruction; and once a week she drove to 
 Vanceburg, eight miles distant, to recite to a super- 
 annuated German professor in side-whiskers, who 
 dozed through the lesson and woke with a start to 
 say, "Very goot." She learned nothing of importance 
 from him, nor from his successor, an Italian voice 
 culturist, who knew even less about the piano than the 
 voice. These were charlatans, members of a family 
 who are in number as the sands of the sea. 
 
 Had Hope been a real Princess, the instruction she 
 received at this period would have sufficed; for in the 
 education of royalty, music is of no more importance 
 than dancing, or painting, or any other accomplish- 
 ment polite. But music, intuition told our Princess, 
 
 7 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 was to mean more to her than anything else in the 
 world; and thus it was a happy and an ever-to-be-re- 
 membered day when Enlightenment knocked at the 
 porch of the Winston farm-house and begged a glass 
 of well-water. 
 
 Enlightenment was a Mrs. Maybury, who had ac- 
 companied her husband on a fishing trip to the coun- 
 try round about Vanceburg. Mrs. Maybury was a 
 small woman, with a delicate oval face, fine brown eyes, 
 and very long eyelashes ; a quiet-mannered, low-voiced 
 lady. No one just like her had passed before through 
 the valley of the Mad River. 
 
 While Maybury fished, his wife botanized and 
 studied birds ; and as Mad River was one of the best 
 trout streams in the county, Hope and Mrs. Maybury 
 saw each other frequently. The girl and her music 
 Interested the woman, — ^the slim, shy country maid 
 with the dreaming eyes and awkwardly-drooping 
 shoulders ; the tinkling, rubbishy music, unworthy of 
 the manifest talent squandered on It. It transpired, 
 one day, that Mrs. Maybury was a musician. Hope, 
 abashed and crimson-cheeked, exclaimed: "Oh, I 
 should not have played for you If I had known !" 
 
 "You have no reason to feel ashamed of the per- 
 formance," Mrs. Maybury said ; "you play very well. 
 
 8 ' 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 But, my dear girl, if music, as you say, means more 
 to you than anything else in the world, it is high time 
 you learned something about it. This," — she indi- 
 cated contemptuously the stack of "Rustlings" and 
 "Reveries" on the piano, — "this isn't music, you 
 know." 
 
 Hope had suspected something of the sort, and 
 eagerly she begged to be enlightened. She thirsted 
 for knowledge, and her new friend's phrases sank into 
 her mind like rain in a desert, which waits but this to 
 put forth fruits and flowers. 
 
 "You must study Bach, and Beethoven, and 
 Brahms, and Schumann, and all the other masters," 
 Mrs. Maybury told her. "You can not do much in this 
 out-of-the-way place ; soon or late you must go to the 
 city, and the sooner the better ; but meantime you can 
 start yourself in the right direction. When I go home 
 I will send you some music, which will keep you busy 
 for a while. . • . And now I must say good-by. 
 We leave to-morrow." 
 
 "Won't you play for me before you go?" Hope re- 
 quested. "I have never heard any real playing." 
 
 "You poor child!" said Mrs. Maybury. "Yes; 
 of course I will play for you. What shall it be ?" 
 
 "Bach, or Beethoven, or . . ." 
 9 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "B-r-a-h-m-s." Mrs. May bury spelled out the 
 strange word, smiling. "I am especially interested in 
 Brahms. I will play his Second Rhapsody." 
 
 Hope's first sensation was one of bewilderment. 
 Her ear was unprepared for the strange harmonies 
 that poured tumultuously upon it. This sensation 
 gave way to a physical tremulousness, and tears 
 started in her eyes. Unaware of the effect she was 
 producing, the pianist began the climax of the Rhap- 
 sody, and the fierce rush of it swept Hope into hys- 
 teria. She felt she must cry out, beseech the lady to 
 stop playing, or fly the room. She rose, but dizziness 
 took her, and she sank back again. She was sobbing 
 when the music ceased. 
 
 Surprised and pleased, Mrs. Maybury put an arm 
 about the neophyte's shoulders. "Dear girl," she 
 said, "I have never had so sympathetic a listener." 
 
 She played for an hour or more, until she came to 
 the end of her repertory, which, she remarked, was 
 brief in summer. . . . 
 
 The promised books came promptly: a volume of 
 Czerny studies, Bach's Inventions, and the first vol- 
 ume of Beethoven's Sonatas. 
 
 "When you can play Czerny up to tempo," wrote 
 Enlightenment, "you can play anything. But Bach! 
 
 10 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 — study Bach. As my friend Karl Geist says, *Bach, 
 then Bach; and when you have finished with Bach, 
 study Bach. For there is nothing new in music; you 
 can go back and find it all in Bach.' 
 
 "I hope, dear girl, I have done you some good. I 
 feel that I have. When you venture the city, as some 
 day you will, be sure to come to me. . . ." 
 
 Fourteen months had passed, and Hope was still in 
 Swiftwater. But the months had been profitably em- 
 ployed. Six hours a day she labored at the ancient in- 
 strument in the Winston parlor, and was as fresh at 
 the end of her practice, almost, as at the beginning; 
 for she had health and strength, and firm though 
 finely-tempered nerves. The mother continued to en- 
 courage her, remembering her own scant opportuni- 
 ties, and enthusiastic little Alice helped by taking all 
 of the dish-washing and bed-making on herself. 
 
 There is no royal road to learning, but genius has 
 a trick of cutting across lots. Thus Hope knew her 
 Bach and Beethoven, and could play the Czemy within 
 hailing distance of tempo, when Professor Demeritt, 
 fresh from the city, in all the panoply of diploma and 
 teacher's certificate, established himself in Vanceburg 
 as teacher of pianoforte. 
 
 Farmer Winston's property was conspicuous more 
 11 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 by the absence of mortgage on his estates than by the 
 presence of cash in hand; but there had always been 
 a httle money for music lessons, and it was voted that 
 the village Liszt should have a trial. 
 
 But in the presence of Genius, Professor Demeritt 
 lost his nerve. He could teach her nothing — he knew 
 that when he heard her play; and she, as he felt, 
 would come to know it too, and would despise him. 
 The girl played marvelously well. Where had she 
 picked up all that technic? He took a turn about the 
 room ; then he said, with a hum here and a haw there : 
 
 "Of course. Miss, I should be pleased to have you 
 for a pupil; but I am inclined to believe — I may say 
 I am certain — ^that you should have a wider field. 
 Here is a book, the annual catalogue of the Colossus 
 Conservatory of Music. I spent three months there." 
 
 The professor pointed to the teacher's certificate 
 framed above the piano. 
 
 "I took the business course, but you, of course, will 
 want the classical; that will require at least a year. 
 You do not wish to become a teacher, I suppose .?" 
 
 He glanced, with a shade of apprehension, at the 
 certificate on the wall. 
 
 "No ; I do not wish to become a teacher," Hope re- 
 plied. 
 
 12 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 "Read this book, Miss, and consult with your par- 
 ents. Tell them I can recommend the conservatory. 
 It is the largest and finest in the world." 
 
 And Hope had taken the book to her favorite pool 
 on the Mad River. And there she had looked into the 
 south and dreamed. And the little river had babbled 
 of green fields all in vain. 
 
 The annual catalogue of the Colossus Conservatory 
 of Music was one of the prettiest booklets imaginable. 
 It was printed on thick glossy paper, and bound in 
 red and gold ; and scattered through the text were por- 
 traits of men and women who, one was informed, 
 taught the inarticulate soul to express itself through 
 the medium of music. 
 
 In respect of personal appearance these soul cultur- 
 ists did not differ widely from the men and women of 
 Hope Winston's acquaintance. The men, to be sure, 
 had more hair (some of them were very Shagpats), 
 and their mustaches drooped more pensively or twisted 
 up more jauntily; the women, too, were sprucer and 
 smarter looking than the wives and daughters of the 
 farmers of Swif twater ; But otherwise they were plain 
 enough, and little suggested the soul power which, the 
 catalogue more than hinted, was peculiarly theirs. In- 
 
 13 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 deed, one soul-propagator, the size of whose portrait 
 argued an uncommon puissance, resembled much the 
 barber of Swiftwater, who expressed his soul through 
 the medium of razor and shears. 
 
 Some of the faces were interesting, one especially 
 so. The profile showed a high poetic brow, a thin 
 cheek and a sensitive mouth; the hair was short and 
 straight, and there was neither beard nor mustache. 
 Beneath the portrait was the line: "Karl Geist, Vio- 
 linist and Teacher of Theory." Hope liked this por- 
 trait above all the others, and looked at it a long time. 
 It was such a face as you might find on a painter's 
 canvas, with the word "Music" below it. 
 
 Of another sort was the portrait on the opposite 
 page, that of Professor Jan Van Wart, head of the 
 piano department, and "Liszt's favorite pupil." Van 
 Wart had a great quantity of hair, tumbling over 
 forehead to eyes ; his face was round and fat, and its 
 expression moony. He had evidently put on a frown 
 before the camera, but had neglected to adjust the 
 corners of his mouth to the corrugations of his brow. 
 
 The largest portrait, which served as frontispiece, 
 was that of Doctor Rudolf Erdmann, president of the 
 Colossus — ^a handsome man, with dark bold eyes and 
 heavy black mustache. He suggested a stock-broker, 
 
 14 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 a merchant prince, a railway president — anything but 
 a musician. 
 
 From the catalogue one learned that the Colossus 
 was the largest conservatory of music in this or any 
 other land ; that it had more departments, more world- 
 renowned instructors, more educational methods, than 
 any other; that the conservatory building reached 
 nearer to heaven, and contained more studios, than 
 any other; that it graduated more students, issued 
 more diplomas and teachers' certificates, conferred 
 more degrees, and provided clamant lyceums with more 
 instrumental artists and vocalists, than any twenty 
 other conservatories combined. 
 
 The Colossus catered to every want conceivable, and 
 there was no longer a reason why one should go abroad 
 in search of a musical education. Atmosphere.? — the 
 gaseous envelop surrounding the Colossus contained a 
 maximum amount of musical oxygen; the student- 
 thousands who breathed it were a community in them- 
 selves. And where abroad were such rapid results to 
 be obtained? "Graduated while you wait" might be 
 the motto of the Colossus. What foreign music shop 
 could match it.? 
 
 The modest claims of the directors were backed by 
 words of prominent citizens and newspapers. The 
 
 15 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 former felicitated themselves and fellow citizens on 
 the possession of such a mighty engine of culture ; the 
 latter expressed satisfaction that the day of the edu- 
 cation "made in Germany" was past. Westward the 
 star of culture, like the star of empire, took its way. 
 
 Concerning the worth and the soul dynamics of the 
 conservatory staff, it was only necessary to submit the 
 names of the leading instructors. All were virtuosi of 
 international repute. The directors had spared neither 
 effort nor money in skimming from the musical milk- 
 pails of the world the cream of the profession. Every 
 instructional method in vocal and instrumental music 
 was represented in this dazzling galaxy ; every variety 
 of temperament, from the tumultuous Slavic to the 
 reposeful British. Positively there was nothing lack- 
 ing. 
 
 This, then, was the mighty engine of soul culture, 
 perfect in each part, perfect in all. "Come unto us," 
 exhorted Doctor Erdmann, addressing them that 
 dwelt in provincial outer darkness, — "come unto us, 
 and learn to express your soul !" 
 
 "If I only could !" murmured the young woman by 
 the river's brim. 
 
 She longed to adventure into the world beyond her 
 little valley; a world she knew only from books and 
 
 10 
 
BY THE RIVER'S BRIM 
 
 magazines, and contact with sophisticated city rela- 
 tives who came, in summer, to the valley of the Mad 
 River, — a wonderful world in which she dwelt in 
 thought, and to which, she felt, she. naturally be- 
 longed. 
 
 17 
 

 CHAPTER II 
 
 SOUTHWARD 
 
 Swiftwater communicated with the world by way of 
 Vanceburg, through which ran the railway. The val- 
 ley of Mad River was narrow, and the tillable land in 
 Swiftwater lay mainly south of the village, where the 
 vale spread out for a few miles. The place was so 
 small, the inhabitants so few, that social life could 
 scarcely be said to exist. There was not even a meet- 
 ing-house ; the consolations of religion were no nearer 
 than Vanceburg, and the sixteen-mile drive was a test 
 of faith. 
 
 The Winston acres were few but fertile. They bor- 
 dered the river, and gave annually a good account of 
 themselves. The farm-house stood where highway and 
 
 18 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 r- 
 
 river met, at a safe elevation above floodwater. It was 
 a pleasant old place, well cared for, and presentable 
 always. 
 
 The old-fashioned kitchen was the largest and 
 cheeriest room in the house; and here, when supper 
 was by and the dishes "done," the Winston family 
 went into committee of the whole, to consider Pro- 
 fessor Demeritt's suggestion and the conservatory 
 catalogue. 
 
 Little Alice, naturally, brimmed over with enthusi- 
 asm. The hour had come for Princess Hope to ad- 
 venture forth into the great wide world, and return in 
 the purple chariot drawn by snow-white steeds, or 
 birds, or butterflies. As for the Prince — 
 
 "He will be just the nicest ever !" Alice cried. *'Tall 
 and slender, with dark eyes and hair. . . . " 
 
 "Little silly!" said Hope, checking further non- 
 sense with a hug. 
 
 "How much does this soul business cost?" inquired 
 Farmer Winston, turning the pages of the red and 
 gold booklet. 
 
 "It depends on the teacher ; some charge more than 
 others," said Hope. "There is a scale of prices at the 
 back of the book." 
 
 "Um !" said the farmer. 
 19 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 As became a hard-headed agriculturist with an un- 
 mortgaged farm, he took a practical view of the prop- 
 osition. Of soul expression through other mediums 
 than the plow and milk-pail, he knew nothing, but he 
 was not gainsaying their utility or superiority. He 
 was fond of music, as we all are — or all except a few 
 sad mortals ; and he had assented readily to his wife's 
 early suggestions regarding Hope's musical educa- 
 tion. He did not believe she should learn overmuch. 
 He had a brother, he remarked, who could play six 
 tunes and no more, and he "would rather hear Ed 
 play them six tunes than hear Paderooski." 
 
 " 'Students,' " he read aloud, " 'can obtain good 
 board and lodging in private families for five dollars 
 a week and upwards.' And here's twenty-five dollars 
 for a diplomy, and ten dollars for a teacher's certifi- 
 cate." 
 
 "I don't wish to teach," said Hope. 
 
 "Oh, you want to be a Paderooski," rejoined the 
 farmer good-humoredly. 
 
 Hope did not deny it. 
 
 "Show piano players make a good deal of money," 
 remarked Mother Winston, looking up from her sew- 
 ing. 
 
 The statement went unchallenged. There was a 
 20 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 practical side to Paderewski's profession which the 
 farmer did not overlook. If Hope could become a 
 "show pianist," any money spent on her would be 
 well invested; and Hope, in her father's phrase, was 
 "as smart as they made 'em." Even if she failed to 
 grasp this topmost rung of the musical ladder, the 
 teaching field would be open to her ; the conservatory 
 guaranteed both diploma and teacher's certificate. 
 Professor Demeritt was Hkely "no great shakes," yet 
 he got fifty cents an hour for adults and twenty-five 
 cents for children. 
 
 "I do not wish to be a teacher," Hope repeated. "If 
 I can not become what mother calls a show player, I 
 would as soon stay in Swiftwater." 
 
 "You're likely to stay," said the farmer dryly. "I 
 don't know where the money's to come from." 
 
 "There's the timber trade with Dan Mead," Mrs. 
 Winston gently reminded him. 
 
 "We'll know more about that,^' he answered, "when 
 Dan gets through geein' an' hawin'." 
 
 At this critical juncture, when the nays appeared 
 to have it. Farmer Winston, thumbing the pages of 
 the catalogue, happened on a paragraph in small type 
 which had escaped even Hope's observation. The con- 
 servatory awarded annually a limited number of schol- 
 
 21 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 arships to students endowed with talent but not the 
 means to develop it. 
 
 This seemed to fit the present case, and put a 
 brighter face upon the matter. If a scholarship could 
 be obtained, Farmer Winston thought. . . . 
 
 A letter was despatched to Doctor Rudolf Erd- 
 mann, president of the Colossus, and the reply came 
 promptly. Doctor Erdmann regretted that all the 
 free scholarships had been awarded; this was inevi- 
 table, as the student year had begun. However, the 
 president begged to direct attention to the partial 
 scholarships, which were to be had in much greater 
 number. 
 
 Upon this point Doctor Erdmann was rather hazy. 
 He quoted no figures. "In cases where a student is 
 able to pay a small sum for the inestimable privileges 
 of our institution," he wrote, "application for a par- 
 tial scholarship should always be made. The free 
 scholarships are restricted to those students who are 
 absolutely without means. We shall be very glad to 
 have Miss Winston with us, and shall unquestionably 
 come to a financial agreement." 
 
 "Like as not he means he'll take what he can get," 
 commented Farmer Winston, who knew a hawk from 
 a hand-saw, in whatever quarter the wind might be. 
 
 22 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 Z' 
 
 Affairs were now at a crisis, and very little was 
 needed to turn the scale. Happily Dan Mead gave up 
 "geein' an' hawin'," and came to time on the timber 
 trade. This decided that Hope should go on to the 
 city, and make the best terms possible with the con- 
 servatory management. 
 
 "I guess they won't turn you away," observed her 
 father. 
 
 So on a memorable morning in mid-October a mod- 
 est trunk was strapped to the Winston buckboard, and 
 Princess Hope stepped to a seat beside little Alice, who 
 was to drive her over the mountain. 
 
 Where the highway and the river parted company 
 Hope checked the horse, for a last look at the clean 
 brown current. "When the snow goes off in the 
 spring, little sister," she said, "you must make the 
 rounds and see how my flowers are doing. Tell them 
 I shall come again some day." 
 
 Alice promised gravely, and they went on to Vance- 
 burg and the railway. 
 
 It was Hope's first real journey, her first adventure 
 beyond the valley's brim, and a measure of melancholy 
 tinged her pleasurable anticipations. The quiet little 
 mother had cried a good deal at parting ; her father's 
 
 23 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 serious good-by was still in her ears ; and every mile 
 of the flying landscape was a mute farewell. 
 
 Silver birches that had turned to gold; maples 
 crimson, blood-red, wine-red, not a trace of green ; 
 lindens and alders striving vainly to match the glory 
 of the maples ; back of all, the grateful green of the 
 firs, — these, the outer walls of her happy valley, gave 
 way with the afternoon hours to a more sophisticated 
 countryside, to rolling fields, kempt villages, factory 
 towns, and smoky skies. 
 
 Toward sundown she changed to another train, on 
 the main line, and obtained a berth in a sleeping-car, 
 the extravagant fittings of which amazed her and 
 jarred a native appreciation of beauty unadorned. 
 She was more impressed by the elegant "fittings" of 
 her fellow passengers, chiefly city dames and daugh- 
 ters returning from the summer invasion of the prov- 
 inces, attired in a style unknown to Swiftwater folk, 
 who got their fashions from the mail-order establish- 
 ments in the metropolis, along with their melodeons 
 and red-plush furniture. 
 
 The coach filled rapidly as twilight closed in, and 
 presently the vacant seat in Hope's section was the 
 only one unoccupied. This at the next station was 
 taken by a stoutish lady in black, who smiled affably 
 
 24 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 as she plumped into her allotted portion of upholstery. 
 Hope answered the smile, and made room beside her 
 for a part of the lady's impedimenta, the bulk and di- 
 versity of which brought a frown to the face of the 
 porter, who did not scent a fee. 
 
 Madame was possibly forty years old, and of the 
 build contemned by Byron — dumpy. The dominant 
 note in her personality, which sounded so clearly that 
 all might hear, was wide-awakeness. It sounded in her 
 dark restless eyes, in swift movements of her hands, 
 in little tosses of her head, and, more loudly and less 
 pleasantly, in her voice. She appeared a "foreigner." 
 Her complexion was swarthy, and the voice in which 
 she addressed the conductor, in complaint against a 
 system of car-construction that neglected to make 
 every berth a lower, had an accent unfamiliar to the 
 ear of Swiftwater. 
 
 "I am so large," she said to Hope, "that it is quite 
 an effort to climb up and down." 
 
 Hope offered to exchange berths. As she had never 
 experienced the discomforts of upper or lower, she 
 was able truthfully to say that she had no choice in 
 the matter. 
 
 The other protested against the sacrifice — but con- 
 sented to it. 
 
 25 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Thank you very much," she beamed. "What a 
 beautiful day it has been! One regrets returning to 
 the city and leaving so much color behind. I love 
 autumn; it is my favorite season. As George Eliot 
 says, 'if I were a bird I should go flying about the 
 earth in pursuit of successive autumns.' " 
 
 Hope tried to picture the stoutish lady as a bird, 
 but with poor success. She ventured to express a 
 preference for spring. 
 
 "Spring, too, is beautiful," said Madame. "I love 
 spring. It was my husband's favorite season. . . . 
 You are going through to the city .?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "An ideal month in which to visit it." 
 
 Hope remarked that she purposed residing in the 
 city. 
 
 "So! You come to study music?" Madame laughed 
 — a curious little diatonic laugh. "You wonder at my 
 guessing ability : it is really not so remarkable. You 
 have a musical head — I am a good deal of a phrenolo- 
 gist, you see; the music bumps are very large. And 
 then, so many students come to the city at this time 
 of year — or perhaps a little earlier." 
 
 "Yes ; I am a month late," said Hope. 
 
 "Music, music — ^how I love it!" avowed the other, 
 26 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 with upturned eyes. "It is such a beautiful way to 
 express one's soul." 
 
 The phrase of the catalogue ! Evidently in the city 
 the word soul had a wider application than in Swift- 
 water, where it was not a topic of every-day conver- 
 sation. On Sundays the Vanceburg pastor referred 
 to it, but always as a somewhat that required saving, 
 not expressing: if the soul were saved, that was the 
 blessed end of the matter. Nor could Hope pronounce 
 the word, as many of us can, trippingly upon the 
 tongue: occasionally to musical genius is added the 
 great gift of humor. She imaged her timid little self 
 passing the portals of the great city, the while a her- 
 ald proclaimed: "Make way, make way for Princess 
 Hope, who has come to express her soul !" 
 
 "Three months I have been away," pursued Ma- 
 dame, "and not a note of music have I heard in all 
 that time. What a deprivation! Think of three 
 months without Wagner !" 
 
 "Think of never having heard him at all!" said 
 Hope, humorously touched by her own abyssal be- 
 nightment. 
 
 "Unglaublich!'* exclaimed Madame, surprised out 
 of English. "And you a musician !" 
 
 "Not yet. You see, I come from a small village." 
 27 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "But one may visit the city in the opera season," 
 said Madame. 
 
 "I have never before been ten miles from home." 
 
 Madame could scarcely credit it. The girl did not 
 look especially rustic. Tanned throats and rosy 
 cheeks are common in October everywhere. 
 
 "However, I observe that you have heard of Emer- 
 son," she smiled, taking up the book which the young 
 girl had been reading. 
 
 "My aunt sends me a great many books," said 
 Hope. "And there is a small but very good library in 
 Vanceburg." She laughed. "I believe I have read 
 every book in it." 
 
 "I love Emerson," said Madame, opening the book 
 and shutting it again. "Pie is so m3^stical." 
 
 'Hope agreed, and conversation, thus agreeably es- 
 tablished, ran on unflaggingly. Miss Winston learned 
 that her companion was Madame Amelia Jesurin, the 
 widow of a French count, who expressed her soul in 
 teaching languages, both her own, which was German, 
 and that of her lamented husband. She had, as she 
 took occasion to confide, deeply loved this incompar- 
 able man ; and his passing left such a void in her life 
 that, no matter how many other things she loved^ — 
 autumn, spring, Wagner, ham sandwiches (they were 
 
 28 
 
SOUTIIWARD 
 
 "discussing" the contents of their lunch-boxes), — ^the 
 vacuum remained unfilled. 
 
 "Then jou are a real countess," said Hope, im- 
 pressed. 
 
 ''Gewiss. But I do not use the title." 
 
 Hope wondered what little Alice would say if she 
 knew that on the first day of her adventure into the 
 great wide world her Princess sister had fallen in with 
 a real live countess; the Prince and the chariot could 
 not be far away. She smiled; then, meeting the 
 Countess's inquiring gaze, she blushed, and explained 
 in some confusion the source of her amusement. 
 
 Madame Jesurin entered sympathetically into the 
 spirit of the fantasy. "I love fairy tales," she said, 
 "and I should like to be one of the good fairies to help 
 you find your Prince. First, what does he look like.'^" 
 
 Hope disclaimed meditation on the matter. 
 
 "Tall, of course," said Madame Jesurin, ignoring 
 the disclaimer. 
 
 Hope agreed he should be tall, though it was really 
 of no consequence. 
 
 "Dark eyes or light.?" 
 
 Dark, perhaps, though light would do as well. 
 
 "We are getting on," cried the Countess merrily. 
 "He must be tall, and dark-eyed ; handsome, of course, 
 
 29 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 like a Greek god — I love Greek gods ; and with a 
 pretty silken mustache, and just the least tilt to his 
 nose. . . . Well, child," she sighed, "I am not 
 much of a fairy, I fear. I have no wand, and I am 
 poor as a church-mouse; but perhaps I may be of 
 service to you in other ways. On which side of the 
 city shall you live.?" 
 
 Hope remarked that the conservatory would assist 
 her to find a desirable home. 
 
 "Why do you not keep house for yourself?" sug- 
 gested Madame Jesurin. "It is cheaper and pleasanter 
 than to board." 
 
 She went on to say that she lived on the north side 
 of town, in two rooms of a humble flat kept by a Mrs. 
 Grady ; and it so happened that another pair of rooms 
 in this flat were at present vacant. They had been 
 occupied by two young women, music students like 
 Hope, and had been made very cozy and comfortable. 
 Madame Jesurin had been away three months, but it 
 was not likely that the little rooms had been rented, as 
 she had talked of adding them to her own establish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Look out for strangers !" was the parting advice 
 of Farmer Winston, who on a memorable occasion had 
 been invited to invest in a hexahedral chunk of yellow 
 
 30 
 
SOUTHWARD 
 
 metal. But Madame Jesurin was manifestly honest, 
 as one more experienced than Hope would have de- 
 cided; and perhaps the two little rooms were just 
 what Plope would fancy, if the conservatory could 
 not do better ; so she thanked the Countess, and prom- 
 ised to look at the apartments. 
 
 Madame Jesurin chatted the evening away. What 
 a lot she knew about music — and everything else! 
 Hope, deeply impressed by her companion's cleverness, 
 played the part of listener most eloquently, seldom 
 obtruding an opinion of her own. One who confessed 
 complete ignorance of Richard Wagner's music would 
 best sing small. 
 
 Madame touched on the advantages which the city 
 offered to the soul yearning for full expression. What 
 with concerts, art galleries, libraries, lectures, and so 
 on, one could fill in every hour of the week; one 
 grudged the hours required for sleep. 
 
 Alas, the porter was even now making up the 
 berths. 
 
 Sleep came slowly to Hope. The upper berth was 
 stuffy (what could the lower be.'') and her head ached 
 a little; Madame Jesurin was not a soporific. But 
 gradually the vibration of the coach lulled her, and 
 some time after midnight she passed into a slumber 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 which, though short, was dreamless and altogether 
 refreshing. 
 
 She was astir first in the morning, for nobility 
 sleeps late; and she was uncommonly hungry when 
 the Countess at last made her appearance. And then 
 a postponement of breakfast was suggested. 
 
 "They charge so much on the train," Madame Jesu- 
 rin explained. "You shall take breakfast with me, if 
 you will, and have a look at the rooms. It Is only a 
 little way to Mrs. Grady's." 
 
 Ten minutes later the porter was slapping them 
 with an apathetic brush, and Madame Jesurin was 
 warning Miss Winston that the city was noisy and 
 dirty, but that she would grow to like it. 
 
 Not so sure of this was Hope when she stood with- 
 out the railway station, bewildered by the din of the 
 metropolis, the mighty roar of commerce. 
 
 "It is grand, it is epic !" Madame Jesurin shouted 
 in her ear. "It is thus the great city expresses its 
 soul." 
 
 82 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 IN WHICH OUR PRINCESS SETS UP A 
 MODEST E ST AB lilSH M E N T 
 
 While Madame Jesurin searched her hand-bag- for 
 the latch-key, Hope had a good look at the exterior 
 of No. 69 Atwood Street. It was not promising. 
 
 The frame dwelling of two stories was old, and had 
 not known fresh paint for a long term of years. The 
 shutters hung off plumb ; the lines of the shallow un- 
 roofed porch and of the steps leading to it no longer 
 ran in parallels ; one pane of glass in the street door 
 was broken. The house stood back a way from the 
 fronts of the buildings that flanked it, and in the 
 space, on each side of the uneven brick walk, a few 
 handfuls of grass struggled to make a lawn. All the 
 
 33 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 houses in the block were commonplace; No. 69 was 
 only a little less attractive than its neighbors. 
 
 Madame Jesurin opened the door, and Hope fol- 
 lowed up a steep dark stairway to an ill-lighted hall, 
 through which wandered dismally the ghosts of in- 
 numerable boiled cabbages. Our Princess, fresh from 
 the sweet airs and running waters of her happy valley, 
 felt sure she could not make a home in such a shabby, 
 smelly place. But when Madame Jesurin threw open 
 the door to her apartments, things looked very much 
 better. 
 
 "Eil Ei! Die HeinzelmdnncJien Tiahen geholferl!" 
 cried Madame, delighted. "That good Mrs. Grady — 
 such a thoughtful woman ! — has prepared everything 
 against my home-coming. Take off your wraps. Miss 
 Winston. We shall have breakfast at once." 
 
 She bustled into another apartment, while Hope in- 
 spected, with interested eyes, the combination of sleep- 
 ing-chamber and sitting-room. 
 
 After the big brass bed, with its pretty figured 
 counterpane, the largest object in the room was a coal 
 heater reaching more than half-way to the ceiling. It 
 was a new heater, and its shiny mica eyes gave Hope 
 a smiling welcome. Two good pieces of furniture were 
 a bird's-eye maple dressing-table and a secretary- 
 
A MODEST ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 bookcase, on which stood a cheap brass lamp with a 
 large green-paper shade. A couple of easy-chairs, a 
 good carpet, a few indifferent prints and photographs, 
 and a chenille-clad shelf laden with small ornaments, 
 completed the furnishings, — a cozy little home. 
 
 An odor of drawing coffee floated into the room, and 
 on the wings of it came Madame. 
 
 "Mrs. Grady is away,*' she announced. "Such a 
 hard worker, and without profit to herself ! There are 
 such people. Always she is helping some one still 
 poorer. Come, we shall now have our coffee." 
 
 Hope followed to a smaller room containing a table, 
 four deal chairs, a couch and a china closet. On a 
 stand was a small gas stove for cooking, but this was 
 not in use: through another doorway was visible a 
 huge kitchen range, under full headway. 
 
 "I use Mrs. Grady's stove much of the time," Ma- 
 dame remarked. "Such an accommodating soul. . . . 
 Sugar and cream in your coffee?" 
 
 Hope, though half-famished, attacked the scant 
 breakfast deliberately; a rush would have instantly 
 destroyed it. 
 
 "Pardon me while I peep at this letter," said Ma- 
 dame. . . . "jBi.' Ell here is good luck, in which 
 you shall share, if you will." 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Two tickets and a printed slip fell from the en- 
 velope. 
 
 "The Symphony concerts begin to-night. You are 
 just in time. One of my pupils has sent me these sub- 
 scription seats; she can not use them, as she will be 
 out of town. You would like to go .?" 
 
 "Oh, very much, indeed!" cried Hope, her face 
 radiant. She had never heard an orchestra, but she 
 thought it as well to reserve the disclosure ; Madame's 
 credulity had been sufficiently tested. 
 
 "Here is the programme," said the Countess. *'Let 
 us see what good things Herr Herschel has in store 
 for us." She propped the slip of paper against the 
 sugar bowl. 
 
 "Herr Herschel is the conductor?" Hope hazarded. 
 She had seen the name in the newspapers. 
 
 A wonderful man ; he is reverenced as a god. . . . 
 First, Brahms's Third Symphony. You have heard 
 that.?" 
 
 Hope laughed happily. "I have heard nothing ; all 
 will be new to me." 
 
 Madame put on a profound expression. "Brahms 
 is very difficult to understand ; he is so deep, so intel- 
 lectual ; so different from Wagner." 
 
 "Wagner is not intellectual, then.?" 
 
A MODEST ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 "I would not say that ; but Wagner — ach, he is so 
 primal, so emotional." 
 
 Hope recalled the Second Rhapsody. If Wagner 
 were more emotional than Brahms, it might be well to 
 take along one's smelling-salts whenever his composi- 
 tions were on the programme. 
 
 "Here is indeed a treat," continued the Countess; 
 "Madame Friedenthal is to play." 
 
 "Madame Friedenthal.?" 
 
 "Surely you have heard about her. Nein? She is 
 the greatest of women pianists." 
 
 "What is she to play.?" Hope asked eagerly. 
 
 "Grieg — Concerto in A-minor. You do not know 
 that either.? Grieg is grand; I love Grieg. He uses 
 such queer chords. You should hear his 'Peer Gynt.' " 
 Madame hummed a few measures. "But you have for- 
 gotten to eat; your chop is cold, and the coffee is 
 frappe." 
 
 She refilled the cups. 
 
 "After intermission comes Richard Strauss. 'Till 
 Eulenspiegel'. That is comical; you can not but 
 laugh. Nun, Weber's 'Invitation to the Dance', ar- 
 ranged by Weingartner. I saw him one day in Mu- 
 nich." 
 
 "Weber?" 
 
 37 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Weingartner. Weber is long dead," Madame Jes- 
 urin explained. 
 
 «I see." 
 
 Madame charted a sharp look at her young friend. 
 Hope's face was innocence itself. 
 
 "Last," — Madame's dark eyes almost crackled, — 
 "the Prelude to 'Die Meistersinger' ! Wagner! 
 Wagner! ... A splendid programme, and a 
 wonderful night for you. The hall will be crowded; 
 always it is so for the opening concert. All the mu- 
 sicians will be there, and the society people in the 
 boxes. Helas!" Madame relapsed into the language 
 of her lamented husband, "how I wish I were young 
 again. Think of it ! — ^your first great concert." 
 
 And surely, beloved reader, if ever envy is unselfish 
 or pardonable, it is in such circumstances. Have you 
 ever postponed a craved experience.? Have you ever 
 set aside, unread, a Shakespeare play ? Have you put 
 anything by for the rainy day of middle age? It was 
 only lately that the writer, in a moment of weakness, 
 took down "King Lear," afterward to go forth and 
 rave about it to his politely astonished friends. Alas, 
 that gold is spent, and age so much the poorer ! 
 
 Breakfast over, the Countess suggested a peep at 
 the two little rooms, with a view to renting. With her 
 
 38 
 
A MODEST ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 first glance at them Hope forgot the disembodied cab- 
 bages that haunted the hall. 
 
 The rooms were not so large or so well furnished as 
 Madame Jesurin's; but as they gave on the street, 
 facing east, they lay open to the morning sunshine, 
 which was now flooding them, touching with Midas- 
 fingers the cheap furnishings, and glorifying the fea- 
 tures of Saint Cecilia, gazing eternally upward from 
 out a "process" picture on the wall. In place of the 
 fine brass bed which Madame possessed, there was a 
 plain folding affair; and Hope liked the small open 
 coal stove much better than the huge heater in the 
 other apartment. Her eyes, after remarking a pretty 
 blue carpet, a big easy-chair, a sofa, and a stand with 
 a lamp on it, returned to an upright piano in an oak 
 case. Surely it could not be true that this went with 
 the rooms. 
 
 No. As Madame explained, this had been hired by 
 the young ladies who lately vacated the rooms, and 
 would be removed unless Miss Winston wished to re- 
 tain it. 
 
 Hope had a moment of panic. Piano hire was an 
 item overlooked in the home councils. 
 
 "How much would it be, do you suppose.?" she 
 asked. 
 
 S9 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Madame thought it would not exceed ten dollars the 
 quarter. 
 
 "And these rooms ?" 
 
 "Eight dollars the month. You can keep house for 
 as much more, including the fuel; and that is better 
 than you can do in a boarding-house, with one little 
 room to live in." 
 
 While Hope was deliberating Mrs. Grady returned 
 and took the young girl, figuratively, to her expansive 
 bosom. Mrs. Grady's manner was large as her frame ; 
 her loud laugh bespoke good nature rather than a 
 vacant mind. She had been absent, as Madame Jesurin 
 surmised, on an errand of mercy. — That poor Mrs. 
 White! Such a deal of trouble she was having with 
 two sick "childer," and her man out of work because 
 of the strike. 
 
 No, the vacant rooms were not yet spoken for ; and 
 sure, Mrs. Grady would be highly "plaized" should 
 they be to the young lady's liking. At this juncture 
 the expressman arrived with Madame Jesurin's trunk, 
 and when he departed he took away the check for 
 Hope's luggage. 
 
 While the Countess bustled off to set her own af- 
 fairs in order, Mrs. Grady exhibited to the new tenant 
 the simple machinery of their joint establishment. 
 
 40 
 
A MODEST ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 Z" 
 
 One of the cogs was Patrick, a protege of the land- 
 lady's. He was something more than forty years old, 
 but he "drank like sixty," in the phrase of his patron, 
 who still had hopes of reforming him. Patrick 
 brought up the coal and took away the ashes; and 
 Hope's assessment for this service would be twenty- 
 five cents weekly. There was a gas stove in the smaller 
 of the rooms, but Miss Winston was free to use the 
 huge range in the Grady kitchen; there was always 
 room on it for one more pot or pan. In brief, Mrs. 
 Grady and her possessions were at her tenants' service. 
 She was the most accommodating soul in the world, as 
 Madame Jesurin frequently avowed. 
 
 Nothing could be more agreeable, reflected Hope, 
 and she was glad to be alone, that she might curl up 
 in the big easy-chair and look leisurely about her, 
 mistress of all she surveyed. 
 
 "This," she remarked to herself, glancing about 
 her new domain, "this is something like." 
 
 Her child-heart's desire to "play house" was satis- 
 fied to the full. Satisfied also was a craving for inde- 
 pendence. Her sensations were not unlike those of the 
 man who has pitched his tent in the heart of the wil- 
 derness, and, looking about him as the night closes 
 in, sees everything at his hand necessary to his exist- 
 
 41 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 ence. The "shadowed leagues of slumbering sound" 
 beyond the circle of firelight hold no disquietude for 
 his soul. 
 
 It is delightful to be one's own mistress at eighteen, 
 especially when one is bubbling over with health and 
 high spirits, and heart-whole save for the claims of a 
 chosen art. Was there ever so fortunate a girl? Hope 
 hugged her knees in delight. 
 
 A long wardrobe in the room's far corner caught 
 her glancing eye. She ran to it, and found the back 
 was formed of folding-doors that once gave passage 
 to Madame Jesurin's apartments ; the light came 
 through a crack in one of the panels. Within this re- 
 cess she found wash-stand, chest of drawers, and many 
 hooks ; and she was impatient for her trunk to come, 
 that she might distribute her small belongings. 
 
 There was not much in the smaller room ; a kitchen 
 table with a red cover, two chairs, a gas stove, and a 
 china closet fashioned from a packing-case, the orna- 
 mentation of which suggested that the inspiration had 
 come from the Ladies' Home Companion. 
 
 The piano proved a fairly good instrument ; not so 
 sweet-toned as her own, but firmer-actioned. As she 
 sat before it she was disturbed by the reflection that 
 two whole days had passed without practice. This 
 
 42 
 
A MODEST ESJABLISHMENT 
 
 should not happen again. She would work, work. 
 Nothing should take her mind from it. No distrac- 
 tions should lengthen, by so much as a day, her jour- 
 ney to the goal she was impatient to reach. She 
 clasped her hands above her head, and looked upward 
 with Saint Cecilia. 
 
 Madame Jesurin knocked at the door to announce 
 that her cupboard was as bare as Mother Hubbard's, 
 and that she was going a-marketing. "You will wish 
 to lay in supplies yourself," she suggested ; and Hope, 
 assenting delightedly, ran for her hat. 
 
 The grocer forgot the Saturday rush in his desire 
 to serve the fresh-faced girl who took so remarkable 
 an interest in tea and coffee and butter and other com- 
 monplace commodities, and promised that the things 
 should be delivered immediately, even if he had to hire 
 an extra man to transport them. At the butcher's the 
 proprietor of a restaurant, who had been waiting his 
 turn to place a large order, stepped aside with a smile, 
 that Hope might purchase three little chops. The 
 baker's Frau beamed upon her. The coal merchant 
 felt that a ray of sunshine had straggled into his 
 grimy box of an office. 
 
 The watchful eye of Madame Jesurin oversaw every 
 purchase, and Hope learned a few things about eco- 
 
 43 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 nomical buying. Economy with Madame was a fine 
 art. As she explained, she had fallen upon church- 
 mouse days since the demise of her never-to-be-for- 
 gotten husband, who had left her nothing more sub- 
 stantial than a fragrant memory. 
 
 The first luncheon in the new home proved an entire 
 success ; for Hope had not studied Bach's Inventions 
 to the exclusion of Mrs. Rorer's. The Countess and 
 Mrs. Grady were invited in, and accepted with pleas- 
 ure, the former contributing an excellent appetite, the 
 latter a pie. 
 
 In the chatter over the tea-cups, apropos of early 
 rising and late, Hope learned that Mrs. Grady was 
 astir mornings at as young an hour as the most in- 
 dustrious Swiftwater agriculturist; for John Grady, 
 the nominal head of the house, expressed his soul a 
 great distance from home, and must ride an hour and 
 a half in street-cars, clinging to a strap. A round- 
 about way, but he got transfers ; by the shorter route 
 he must pay two fares. 
 
 "How they have to count the pennies!" Hope 
 thought. "And how I shall have to count them, too." 
 
 Madame Jesurin was suddenly reminded of Alice 
 Winston and the dream chariot, and, receiving per- 
 mission from Miss Winston, entertained Mrs. Grady 
 
 44 
 
A MODEST ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 with the tale. That genial soul bent a shrewd glance 
 on the face and figure of the heroine, who was at that 
 moment peeping into the tea-pot to cover a slight con- 
 fusion following a compliment of Madame's, and she 
 remarked with the air of a prophet : 
 
 "Ye'U not be lackin' princes, mj dear. An' sure, the 
 lucky one has Ann Grady's congratulations." 
 
 45 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 INTRODUCING DOCTOR RUDOLF ERD- 
 MANN AND MR. ARTHUR WEST 
 
 In a neighborhood of imposing buildings, the Colos- 
 sus Conservatory of Music was architecturally the 
 most remarkable. Indeed, the red-and-gold catalogue 
 might have boasted that, in addition to more studios, 
 more instructors, more methods than any similar insti- 
 tution, the Colossus possessed more architecture. Just 
 as within there was something to please every taste, 
 so without there was something to take captive every 
 eye. 
 
 Lacking the catalogue, which contained a very good 
 picture of the structure, I do not now venture to say 
 whether in this architectural opulence there was more 
 of the glory of Greece than the grandeur of Rome, or 
 
 46 
 
INTRODUCING DR. ERDMANN 
 
 whether Rome had a shade the better of it. I seem to 
 recall a Greek colonnade and a balustrade of the same 
 order; the broken pediments surmounting the sixth 
 story were, I believe, Renaissance ; and I am under the 
 impression that the Gothic note was introduced in the 
 elaborate attic story, — ^the rest is hazy. Only one de- 
 tail need be commended to the reader's appreciation — 
 the crowning glory at the roof line. Who that has 
 seen them can ever forget the six statues in a row.? — 
 Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, Wag- 
 ner. What could be finer? 
 
 The Colossus was narrow and deep, and ten stories 
 high. Among the students it went by the name of 
 "The Grindstone," perhaps from the tint apd texture 
 of the rock that faced its walls, but more likely from 
 the suggestion it held of unremitting activity. 
 
 No grindstone whirled more busily. Upon its fleet 
 periphery poured an unending stream of dullness, 
 whose particles were polished after a fashion, then 
 pushed off by the pressure from behind. There was 
 space above the portals of the building for an alle- 
 gorical figure of a Young Lady from the Provinces 
 Turning a Grindstone; but the idea had been over- 
 looked in the architectural plans, which took in almost 
 everything else. 
 
 47 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Our young lady from the provinces, unaccustomed 
 to a crowd, was a trifle bewildered. It was Saturday 
 afternoon, and the Grindstone was revolving madly. 
 A stream of young women with music-rolls poured 
 into the building, while another stream flowed out ; oc- 
 casionally a male student was observable. Four ele- 
 vators were doing a "capacity" business. 
 
 "What a lot of people are interested in music !" said 
 Hope to herself. "I wonder if this is the office." 
 
 No ; this was the music store, and curiosity took her 
 the length of it. Every stool before every counter was 
 occupied, and as many more people waited attention. 
 A young man with piano hair requested "the Brahms 
 waltzes, for four hands"; the clerk departed to find 
 out, from some one wiser, who Brahms was. A man 
 who looked as if he might be a music teacher was tell- 
 ing a bright-faced girl that she ought to get Hum- 
 mel's sonatas; they were very effective. Over in a 
 comer a blond female was testing, at the piano, the 
 effectiveness of the latest sentimental song. In another 
 comer an enraptured crowd had gathered around a 
 man who was treading a mechanical piano-player. 
 Another group was buying concert tickets; still an- 
 other was lined up before the cashier's window, paying 
 for pianos on the instalment plan. 
 
 48 
 
INTRODUCING DR. ERDMANN 
 
 Yes, indeed ; a lot of people are interested in music. 
 
 Hope left the store, and, crossing the vestibule, en- 
 tered another department. This looked more like the 
 office of the Colossus, and it proved so to be. A great 
 deal seemed to be going on here, too. Typewriters 
 were thumping on their machines, clerks were bustling 
 from desk to desk, while, outside the rail, a long line 
 of Young Ladies from the Provinces were oiling the 
 Grindstone through the cashier's window. 
 
 To whom should Hope apply.? Perhaps President 
 Erdmann, with whom the correspondence had been 
 held, was the proper person to see. And where might 
 Doctor Erdmann be found .^^ 
 
 "Third octave. Take the elevator," an office boy in- 
 structed her. 
 
 "I suppose he means third floor,*^ said Hope. And 
 as everybody seemed to be using the elevators, and no- 
 body the stairs, she decided to walk. The term "oc- 
 tave" amused her, and she counted to see whether the 
 octaves contained the proper number of "steps." 
 Eight was right; but there were two flights of steps 
 to each story. "So really," said Hope, "the presi- 
 dent is on the sixth octave." Evidently the bright 
 person who had coined the term octave had not taken 
 the steps into consideration. 
 
 49 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The second floor was given over to the recital hall. 
 A concert was going on here, and Hope paused to 
 listen; but there was such a clatter at the door she 
 could hear little else, so she proceeded up another 
 double octave. 
 
 As she turned the first flight of steps she collided 
 with a young man who was running down, singing : 
 
 ^ j^— 
 
 I 
 
 im 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 'Ah. 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon !" he exclaimed, and was off 
 down the second flight, — 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 "Ah. 
 
 As Miss Winston, mystified, went on her way, she 
 heard the ascending scale. The young man was com- 
 ing back— 
 
 mm 
 
 Ah 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 They reached the top step together. 
 "Warm work !" he remarked, mopping his brow and 
 taking a deep breath. 
 
 50 
 
INTRODUCING >-DR. ERDMANN 
 
 "I should think it might be," said Hope, smiling. 
 The young man appeared entirely sane, despite his 
 antics. 
 
 "My new method !" he explained. ^'Strengthens the 
 lungs wonderfully. If one is going to sing Wagner, 
 one must have lungs like a blacksmith's bellows, or 
 something of that sort." 
 
 Miss Winston assented politely. 
 
 "Screech, scrape, or scramble?" the young man in- 
 quired, putting away his handkerchief. "Pardon me," 
 he added less volubly, noting her puzzled expression ; 
 "I took you for one of the students." 
 
 While he spoke he looked at Hope attentively, and 
 observed that she was rather tall, and had large blue 
 eyes (or were they gray.?) set wide and closely neigh- 
 bored by level brows, the lashes long. Her hair was 
 chestnut, with glints in it, brushed down plainly on 
 each side the face, and massed at the nape of a long 
 neck. "She'll do," he decided. 
 
 "Why — I am a student," said Hope; "that is, I 
 expect to be." 
 
 "I see." He nodded and smiled. " 'Screech, scrape 
 and scramble' is conservatory slang. What I meant 
 was, do you sing, play the violin, or the piano .f*" 
 
 "Oh! . . . I scramble." 
 51 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "And I screech — but you know that. What method 
 shall you take?" 
 
 "I haven't the least idea. But I hope I shan't have 
 to run up and down stairs." 
 
 "It might help your pedaling." 
 
 "If I were going to play Wagner? I suppose 
 there are lots of methods." 
 
 "Dozens of them. I try 'em all, and trust to luck to 
 hit off the right one. May I introduce myself? My 
 name is Arthur West." 
 
 His eyes politely petitioned for a like revealment of 
 identity. It was granted graciously. 
 
 Mr, West bowed. "You haven't joined the Grind- 
 stone's hallelujah chorus yet, I believe you said." 
 
 "I have called to-day to make the arrangements. 
 Perhaps you can tell me where Doctor Erdmann's of- 
 fice is." 
 
 He pointed to a door legended "Private." 
 
 "That doesn't mean anything. Walk right in." 
 
 "Thank you." She smiled and moved away. 
 
 Mr. West bowed again, and with a wave of his hand 
 he was off, singing himself down the stair. His com- 
 pass appeared to be two octaves. 
 
 There never was any difficulty in reaching Doctor 
 52 
 
INTRODUCING,- DR. ERDMANN 
 
 Rudolf Erdmann. As Mr. West said, the "Private" 
 on the outer door signified nothing. The president of 
 the Colossus did not fence himself with servitors in 
 livery. Any person who wished to see him so informed 
 his secretary, and was instructed to walk in. The 
 Grindstone revolved smoothly. Doctor Erdmann had 
 nothing on his mind more weighty than chatting af- 
 fably with visitors and corresponding with the Young 
 Ladies from the Provinces, who furnished the motive 
 power. 
 
 Doctor Erdmann was a large man and handsome, 
 as the portrait in the catalogue showed him. In speak- 
 ing of this portrait it was mentioned that the eyes 
 were dark and bold: these went very well with the 
 thick black hair and heavy mustache ; and for a man 
 who wrote and talked such a deal about the soul and 
 its expression, his neck was a trifle too short and 
 thick, and his lips were over-full. 
 
 His manner was suave — "oily," said a few persons 
 who did not like him. It is impossible to satisfy some 
 people, who twist our virtues into vices, if we have not 
 the luck to please them. 
 
 Doctor Erdmann was unengaged when the secre- 
 tary announced Miss Winston. His greeting was sym- 
 pathetically genial. 
 
 53 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Miss Winston? Yes-yes. Very glad to see you 
 — ^very." A warm hand-clasp, a look of frank admira- 
 tion. "Will you sit down? . . . From Swift- 
 water — ^yes-yes. I recall our correspondence." 
 
 Doctor Erdmann's "yes-yes" was the quintessence 
 of his suavity. There are as many ways of saying 
 "yes-yes" as of spelling "muskallonge." As Doctor 
 Erdmann enunciated them, each syllable was a purr, 
 slightly crescendo, accompanied by an assentant nod. 
 
 "We talked of a partial scholarship, I believe," lie 
 preluded. 
 
 She testified to the excellence of his memory. 
 
 "Yes-yes. . . . Well — er — ^what are you able 
 to pay.?" 
 
 She mentioned the sum which her father thought he 
 might wrest from the Winston acres. 
 
 "Yes-yes. Hmh! . . . That is not a great 
 deal, not a great deal." 
 
 It did seem — now — ^ridiculously small. Hope had 
 another moment of panic. Suppose, after all — 
 
 "However," Doctor Erdmann continued, rubbing 
 one hand over the other, "our motto has always been, 
 Encourage talent at any price. No student should be 
 turned away so long as she has a dollar. No soul 
 should go unexpressed." 
 
 54 
 
INTRODUCING^ DR. ERDMANN 
 
 Hope murmured her appreciation of this Hberal 
 pohcy. 
 
 "Of course, in the case of a partial scholarship, 
 where the conservatory gets what it can, the student 
 — er — gets what she can. We will do all that is pos- 
 sible. Miss Winston." 
 
 She was properly grateful. 
 
 "What line of study do you intend? — the voice.'*" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Piano." 
 
 "Ah, that is unfortunate. A fine presence counts 
 for so much in the vocal field, and goes for so little in 
 the other. Has your voice ever been tried .?" 
 
 Hope, rosy from the pointed compliment, replied 
 that she sang a little, but had never thought seriously 
 of her voice. Her ambition was to become a concert 
 pianist. 
 
 "Yes-yes. Well, I have no doubt you will succeed." 
 ("About one in ten thousand does succeed," the twin- 
 kle in his eye added.) "Do you intend teaching.?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 He turned to his desk, remarking : "Then you wiU 
 wish the artist, not the business course." 
 
 As he picked up his pen Hope noted a peculiar ring 
 of Indian workmanship on the little finger of his 
 
 55 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 plump white hand. The stone was a cabochon emerald 
 set in a band of dull steel inlaid with gold, and around 
 it was coiled a golden serpent. 
 
 Doctor Erdmann wrote something on a card : "Pre- 
 sent this at the office," he said, "and your application 
 will be made out in form. The examiner will then hear 
 you play, and will report to me. If the report is favor- 
 able, as I have no doubt it will be, your studies may 
 begin at once." 
 
 Hope took the card, saying that she hoped she 
 should prove worthy of his confidence. 
 
 "You have the artist hand," he said, possessing 
 himself of it. "Strong, rather short fingers ; perhaps 
 better adapted for the violin." He surrendered the 
 hand reluctantly. "Have you relatives in the city .?" 
 
 Informed that she was a stranger in a strange land, 
 he referred to the paragraph in the catalogue stating 
 that the conservatory, if desired, would assist students 
 to find desirable homes. Miss Winston further in- 
 formed him of the modest establishment at No. 69 At- 
 wood Street. 
 
 "Yes-yes," he said, "I have some knowledge of 
 Madame Jesurin. An excellent woman ; there was some 
 talk of her teaching here. Very glad you are so pleas- 
 antly located. You understand. Miss Winston, we feel 
 
 56 
 
INTRODUCING ^DR. ERDMANN 
 
 — er — a certain measure of responsibility for young 
 ladies intrusted to our care." 
 
 Another warm, very warm hand-clasp as Hope rose 
 to go. 
 
 "At this time Monday, my dear Miss Winston. I 
 shall have the examiner's report by then." He accom- 
 panied her to the outer door. "The report will be 
 satisfactory, I am sure. Good afternoon." 
 
 His beady eyes followed her until she turned the 
 stair, and the sighting poise of his head was not lost 
 on the secretary, who remarked familiarly when Doc- 
 tor Erdmann turned : 
 
 "Mighty pretty girl that." 
 
 "Hmh!" muttered the president of the Colossus, 
 ^nd returned thoughtfully to his desk. 
 
 The young man to whom Hope presented Doctor 
 Erdmann's card asked a great many questions in 
 making out her application for a position in what Mr. 
 West called "the Grindstone's hallelujah chorus." 
 What was Miss Winston's age? Had she ever been 
 declined by any other musical conservatory.? Was 
 there any history of musical talent in her family.'^ 
 With whom had she studied last.? Possibly he set 
 down, without inquiry, the color of her eyes and hair, 
 and noted her complexion. She was then directed to 
 
 57 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Professor Notensatt, Studio No. 10, fourth octave; 
 and here, in the anteroom, she found two other young 
 women waiting, while from behind a hght swinging 
 door came sounds of a piano under torture. 
 
 Presently the fearsome noises ceased, and a young 
 woman emerged, followed by a youth in livery, who 
 beckoned to one of the waiting damsels. Hope did not 
 have to tarry long for her turn ; the examinations w^re 
 singularly brief. 
 
 Professor Notensatt was a stoop-shouldered, 
 gaunt-faced man with weary-looking eyes. He 
 glanced carelessly through Miss Winston's applica- 
 tion paper, then jerked an arm toward the piano. 
 
 "Play!" he said. 
 
 She sat to the instrument nervously. "What shall 
 I play.?" she asked. 
 
 "Anything," he replied indifferently. 
 
 "Bach.?" 
 
 "Bach will do." 
 
 She discharged a three-part Invention at him. 
 
 "Very good!" he said, and his voice betrayed an 
 awakened interest. "Play something else," — as she 
 rose. 
 
 She sat down again, uncertain whether to feel en- 
 couraged or the reverse. Neither of the damsels who 
 
 58 
 
INTRODUCING DR. ERDMANN 
 
 /" 
 
 preceded her had played twice; perhaps their talent 
 was more obvious. 
 
 "Shall I play a Beethoven Sonata?" 
 
 "One movement will suffice." 
 
 She selected the last movement of the "Moonlight" 
 — dear old battered composition. 
 
 The examiner made no comment, further than to 
 say, "That will do." But he had come out of his 
 trance of indifference; that was something. 
 
 Flushed with this small triumph, Hope tripped 
 springily down the stair, humming the scale after the 
 fashion of Mr. Arthur West, and smiling at recollec- 
 tion of him. 
 
 There was time before dinner to write a long letter 
 home, in which she set down a faithful account of her 
 adventures to date. An inclosure was for Alice Win- 
 ston. 
 
 "Dear little sister," it ran, "I have wandered a long 
 way, and have had a very good time. I have not yet 
 come upon any houses made of gingerbread, nor have 
 I met with any fairies; but then, I have not really 
 needed anything, and fairies do not appear unless you 
 are in some sort of distress. On the other hand, I 
 have not had to flee from any dwarfs or witches, 
 though I was almost run down in the street by a big 
 
 59 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 red dragon with shiny eyes and dreadful gassy 
 breath. 
 
 "I have made the acquaintance of only one Prince 
 thus far, and I am afraid that he isn't the one with the 
 purple chariot, as he does not answer your description. 
 He is not tall and slender, but short and inclined to be 
 stout ; and he has blue eyes and light hair which curls 
 very prettily. He is a singer, and his name is Arthur 
 West. Your affectionate sister, 
 
 "Princess Hope." 
 
 60 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 CONCEENING A CONCERT, AND SOME 
 PEOPLE WHO WEBE THEEE 
 
 Hope was a-tingle from top to toe. 
 
 The immense auditorium, resplendent in red and 
 gold, the multitudinous lights, the adumbrations be- 
 hind-scenes of the wonderful music to come, — rill of 
 melody from flute, sigh from horn, strident fifth from 
 violin, — ^the chatter, the laughter, the gleaming 
 shoulders and the jewels of Society, the scent of royal 
 roses: what fairy court could match it? 
 
 A bell rang sharply. 
 
 "Here come the band!" cried Madame Jesurin. 
 "How like ants they swarm in, nicht wahr? , . . 
 The applause Is for the favorites," she shrilled in her 
 
 61 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 companion's ear. "See! That is Bruckner who has 
 just entered — ^the large man with the 'cello. Behind 
 him — ^that little chap — is Herr Trautmann, the con- 
 certmeister. He is fine ; he never misses a note !" 
 
 Madame prattles to inattentive ears : Hope's atten- 
 tion is riveted to the picture in the great gilt frame 
 of the proscenium arch. Elbows on balcony rail, face 
 between hands, rapt, she watches the stage door for 
 the entrance of Herr Herschel, who, Madame has said, 
 is reverenced as a god. She trembles with excitement 
 when a door opens and a man with music comes out. 
 But it is only the librarian ; the audience continues to 
 chatter. 
 
 Again the door opens, and this time there is no 
 mistake. The hall rings with the cheers of thousands 
 and the fanfare of the band, which one hears only on 
 opening night. Hope presses her hands tightly 
 against her cheeks. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 The conductor has bowed his acknowledgments, and 
 is facing his men. Hope closes her eyes; but the 
 picture remains with her, and scarcely less vivid. She 
 draws a quick breath when Herr Herschel raps smartly 
 against his music-stand; and though her eyes are 
 lidded, her leaping heart anticipates the loud, long 
 
 62 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 chords that usher in the Third Symphony of Johannes 
 Brahms. 
 
 Her face aches from the pressure of her hands ; 
 but with the first stroke of the buoyant opening 
 melody the tension is reheved, and she is floating, float- 
 ing — ^in cockle-shell of Culprit Fay, on the wayward 
 waters of the Mad River; whirling through rapids, 
 drifting over deep and unvexed pools, blown hither 
 and thither by the winds of counterpoint ; out of sun- 
 shine into shadow, and out into the light again; in 
 her ears the underbreath of wind-stirred tree-tops, the 
 piping of birds, the rumbling of Parnassian thunders, 
 the faint notes of Titania's trumpets, invitation to an 
 elfish dance. . , . 
 
 You and I, reader, as we realize regretfully, are no 
 longer capable of this detachment, this complete ab- 
 sorption. When we go to a concert we take along our 
 business and domestic affairs, and we do not check 
 them at the door, with our hats and opera cloaks. Let 
 Beethoven thunder as he will, and Schubert carol, and 
 Tschaikowsky weep, we give them only part of our at- 
 tention. Americans spend more money on music, and 
 hear less of it, than any other people on the globe. 
 
 It isn't that we do not care to listen; we simply 
 can not listen as we should. What seem to us the im- 
 
 63 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 portant things of life are with us always ; we can not 
 escape from them ;. we fancy we have put them by, 
 but they pop into our heads unbidden and unwelcome. 
 
 With an occasional exception. I have in mind a 
 legal gentleman, really fond of music, who confesses 
 that he welcomes a concert whenever he has a per- 
 plexing case to turn over in his mind. He finds, he 
 tells me, that music, particularly orchestral music, 
 lubricates his brain machinery ; and he traces his suc- 
 cess in a certain celebrated case to the stimulating in- 
 fluence of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. To what 
 practical uses may the product of our genius come, 
 Horatio! .... 
 
 Hope unclosed her eyes with a start. The audi- 
 ence was applauding, and Herr Herschel was bowing. 
 
 "Always there is a wait after the first movement, 
 to allow late-comers to take seats," Madame Jesurin 
 said, in explanation of the band's idleness. "Was it 
 not fine.^ I perfectly adore Brahms, even though he is 
 so hard to understand. Did you not find it difficult ?" 
 
 Hope drew a deep breath. "It was very beautiful. 
 Did it mean something besides that.?" 
 
 ^'Gewiss, It is all here — in the programme notes. 
 They are written by Doctor Dudelsack, of your con- 
 servatory. One should read them while the music is 
 
 64 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 playing. See, in the next movement of the Symphony 
 you shall observe this : 
 
 " 'In soundless solitudes of mountain heights things 
 unutterable save in tones of sweetest harmony move you, 
 as step by step, to clarinets and added flutes and 
 horns, the gray colors of dawn merge with those of deep- 
 est orange, then of brightest gold, of radiant-faced Day, 
 or as the heavy robe of twilight settling down, to clari- 
 nets doubled in lower fagots, brings rest and peace to 
 man and beast, and — 
 
 " ' "ijher alien Gipfeln ist Ruh; 
 In alien Wipfeln—"'" 
 
 Madame got no further. Herr Herschel rapped at- 
 tention; the buzz of conversation died, as the wind 
 dies in woods ; the serene Andante of the symphony be- 
 gan. And again Hope floated away in her fairy craft, 
 drifting on brown water among reeds; listening, now 
 to the quiet narrative of the song-sparrow, now to the 
 plaintive appeal of the meadow-lark. 
 
 Yes; it was difficult to understand, this music; 
 everything is that is beautiful: the first marsh-mari- 
 golds of spring, shadows sweeping over meadows, 
 pelting showers from a laughing sky, the rose-light 
 over the valley, the many, many voices of the 
 river. ... 
 
 65 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The general chatter broke out afresh; the players 
 set their instruments in tune ; Conductor Herschel re- 
 tired. 
 
 Hope turned to the programme. The next number 
 was Madame Friedenthal's : "Grieg — Concerto for 
 pianoforte, A-minor, Opus 16." 
 
 "How is it possible to hear the piano above the or- 
 chestra?" she asked Madame Jesurin. 
 
 "Ach, that is the artist. You shall see. Madame 
 Friedenthal rides in the whirlwind and directs the 
 storm. She has hands and arms of steel." 
 
 A ripple of applause betokened the reentrance of the 
 conductor, who paused for a word with the concert- 
 master. Hope folded her arms across the rail and 
 watched the stage door intently, imaging a massive 
 woman with village blacksmith hands and arms, bared 
 for action, passing the portal with majestic stride. 
 Instead, a woman of slight physique, whose shoulders 
 stooped a little, entered hurriedly and half -ran (per- 
 haps "tripped" would be better) to the piano. With 
 one hand resting on the instrument, she bowed right, 
 left, and straight ahead, then took her seat. 
 
 Herr Herschel, leaning on his desk, awaited her 
 nice adjustment to the work in hand. This required 
 half a minute or more. Madame placed her feet on 
 
 66 
 
CONCERNIN[.G A CONCERT 
 
 the pedals, and prepared her skirts against a possible 
 entanglement. She rose and depressed the piano stool 
 perhaps an inch. She sat down and adjusted her 
 skirts a second time. She hitched the stool a bit for- 
 ward and a trifle to one side. She gave a final critical 
 glance at her feet. Satisfied, she placed her crumpled 
 handkerchief at the right of the keyboard, and folded 
 her hands in her lap. Herr Herschel lifted his baton. 
 
 Hope hardly heard the opening measures of the 
 concerto. Her mind was on the pianist. "How self- 
 possessed!" she thought. "How wonderfully calm! 
 It is I that am nervous." 
 
 Should she ever dare to front so vast an audience, 
 even were opportunity to come.f^ Oh, the toil to win 
 to such a moment: imagination sought to compass it. 
 She had worked so hard, yet knew so very little — a 
 few pages of Bach, of Beethoven, of Czerny. What 
 a ridiculous figure she would cut in Madame's place : 
 an autumn leaf on the wings of the whirlwind, yet pre- 
 suming to direct the storm ! 
 
 Thrice-blessed Princess Hope! She had builded 
 better than she knew, and was wiser than she thought 
 herself. Of such is the kingdom of the great. . . . 
 
 The tempest blew itself out. The concerto was 
 ended, and the house rose at Madame Friedenthal. 
 
 67 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Conductor Herschel congratulated her, and a part of 
 the orchestra followed her from the stage. 
 
 The performance astounded Hope, but nobody else 
 seemed surprised ; those about her applauded heartily, 
 noisily; but she read no astonishment in their faces. 
 It was all so old to them, so new to her. But can such 
 work ever cease to challenge amazement ? 
 
 She remarked something of the sort to Madame 
 Jesurin. 
 
 "Nobody thinks about technic these days," said 
 the Countess. 
 
 "But I did not seem to listen to the music itself. It 
 was not like the symphony." 
 
 "Concertos are addressed to the head, not to the 
 heart. They are show pieces for the fingers." 
 
 "Then why should nobody think about technic?" 
 
 "She will play again," the Countess exclaimed, her 
 attention on Madame Friedenthal, who, after half a 
 dozen recalls, was again at the piano. "It will be a 
 Chopin nocturne, I hope. I love Chopin !" 
 
 But instead, Madame Friedenthal played Schubert's 
 "Hark, Hark, the Lark" (the Liszt arrangement), 
 and Hope experienced a new emotion. The Grieg had 
 interested and amazed her ; the Brahms had stirred the 
 depths of her soul, but had left her clear-eyed. Now 
 
 68 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 r' 
 
 the appeal of simple, exquisite beauty brought a lump 
 into her throat, and her eyes filled. She had a de- 
 sire to rise, to soar with the lark, to sing at Heaven's 
 gate. She clutched the arms of her seat: the pianist 
 fascinated her ; she felt impelled toward her as ship's 
 nails to magnetic mountain. But the stage was so far 
 away, and the abyss between frightened her. . . . 
 Madame Jesurin gently squeezed her arm; the touch 
 restored her. 
 
 "She is a witch!" declared the Countess, when the 
 pianist vanished. A young man beside her turned his 
 head, nodded and smiled. Madame had echoed his 
 thought. 
 
 Acclamation eliciting no further favors from the 
 pianist, the audience began to rise for the intermis- 
 sion. Madame Jesurin suggested that they descend 
 to the foyer, to glimpse a few celebrities. 
 
 With these the Countess seemed to have at least a 
 visual acquaintance; and as they circled with the 
 stream she pointed out significant chips on the current. 
 
 That portly dame in green silk was "old lady 
 Keith," the famous dowager, a prodigious tuft- 
 hunter. Ach, that distinguished-looking gentleman 
 with the pompadour was Doctor Dudelsack, who 
 wrote the analytical notes for the Symphony pro- 
 
 69 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 grammes. That dreamy individual with the mop of 
 black hair was a pianist, famous in the concert world 
 for his Chopin playing, and in divorce courts for his 
 incompatibility of temper. And so on. . . . 
 
 In an eddy of the stream, whither a counter-current 
 drifted them, Hope came on Mr. Arthur West. His 
 face expressed his pleasure at this second meeting. 
 
 "Great night, isn't it?" he said gaily. "Frieden- 
 thal's a wonder. May I present Miss Matheson.? Miss 
 Winston, Flora." 
 
 The tall, fashionably-gowned young woman who 
 accompanied Mr. West murmured her pleasure, and 
 both were charmed to make acquaintance of Madame 
 Jesurin. 
 
 "Friedenthal uses the Leschetitzky method," Mr. 
 West informed Miss Winston. "I call it the best 
 of the lot, though Miss Matheson pretends to have 
 found a better." 
 
 Miss Matheson declined debate. "Are you study- 
 ing at the Colossus.?" she asked Hope. 
 
 "I begin next week." 
 
 "She scrambles," Mr. West volunteered. 
 
 Madame Jesurin was enlightened as to the term. 
 She laughed her little diatonic laugh. "American 
 slang is so picturesque. I love it." 
 
 70 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 They cited certain felicities in our shirt-sleeved 
 vernacular, Hope shyly observing Mr. West's com- 
 panion. 
 
 A man's criticism would have been summed up in the 
 word "thoroughbred." Flora Matheson was a large, 
 shapely, vital young woman, compelling masculine 
 admiration, disarming her sex's criticism. A girl 
 of high spirit, you would say; withal no trace of 
 haughtiness. Miss Winston decided she would like 
 Miss Matheson if circumstances threw them together. 
 
 They spoke of Richard Strauss, next on the pro- 
 gramme. Madame Jesurin had seen him once, on the 
 Ringstrasse in Vienna. 
 
 "Churchill Gray knows him very well," Miss 
 Matheson remarked to Mr. West. 
 
 "Speak of angels," said the young man. "There's 
 Church yonder, talking with Karl Geist." 
 
 At the name Geist, Miss Winston pricked up her 
 ears, and, following the direction of Mr. West's nod, 
 she saw the original of the portrait in the red-and- 
 gold booklet. 
 
 She had fancied Geist tall, but he lacked half a 
 head of it, and he was physically slight. As to the 
 face, the portrait failed of justice, — a gentle schol- 
 arly face; a winning personality, if eye-evidence 
 
 71 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 were trustworthy. Geist was in street dress, the 
 wrinkles in which attested his indifference to things 
 sartorial. His black bow tie with flowing ends was 
 negligently adjusted, a soft brown hat was crushed 
 under his arm, a red carnation was fastened in his 
 coat. 
 
 The gentleman with whom he was talking was In 
 evening dress. His back was turned toward Hope, 
 but the tall slender form seemed curiously familiar. 
 The negligent attitude, the tilted head, the trick of 
 passing hand through hair, clamored at the gates of 
 her memory; yet the circle of her acquaintances was 
 so small that she could account for every person in 
 it. She wished Mr. Gray, as his name appeared to be, 
 would turn his head ; but he was listening attentively 
 to Karl Geist, who talked rapidly and earnestly, with 
 many nervous gestures. 
 
 " 'Till Eulenspiegel', yes, that Is not so difficult to 
 understand," Madame Jesurin was saying. "But 
 'Zarathustra' ! — ach, that is a hard nut to crack." 
 
 "I decline to break my intellectual teeth on It," 
 said West. "But here comes a capital pair of nut- 
 crackers." 
 
 Geist and his companion were approaching, but 
 only Geist reached them ; Gray was captured by "old 
 
 n 
 
Their eyes met for an instant Page yj 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 ladj Keith," who tapped him amicably with her fan. 
 Hope now had a view of his face ; it was not one she 
 had seen before — in her present incarnation, at least. 
 
 Mr. Geist was presented to Madame Jesurin and 
 Miss Winston. 
 
 "And how did you like the concerto?" Miss Mathe- 
 son asked him. 
 
 "Good work," he replied. "But too fast, quite too 
 fast." 
 
 "This is a rapid age, Herr Professor. We must 
 keep up with the metronome." 
 
 "The devil's metronome. One can't hear the music 
 for its infernal clatter." He shrugged. "Technic 
 worship; speed madness. They all get it." 
 
 "Friedenthal's a wonder," Mr. West again affirmed. 
 "She's got more tricks than a Hindoo." 
 
 "Tricks?" Geist smiled scornfully. "Hard work." 
 
 Miss Matheson sighed. "Well, that^s a trick, and 
 one I despair of learning." 
 
 "Many of us know the trick, but do it clumsily," 
 said Madame Jesurin. 
 
 "Well, to me it seems very much like making an 
 omelette in a gentleman's high hat," West protested, 
 in support of his sleight-of-hand theory. 
 
 "That, too, requires a world of technic," Miss 
 73 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Matheson declared. And to Geist: "What were you 
 and Churchill talking about so earnestly?" 
 
 "The Brahms quintette." 
 
 "I love Brahms ! He is so intellectual !" Madame 
 Jesurin took occasion to exclaim. 
 
 "Mr. Gray is also a Brahms enthusiast," said 
 Flora. "He and Mr. Geist have some hot arguments 
 over Johannes." 
 
 **Gray plays favorites; I don't," Geist observed 
 dryly. 
 
 "And what was the particular bone of contention 
 to-night.?" 
 
 ^'Why, I merely remarked that Brahms should have 
 made his quintette a quartette, as he didn't know what 
 to do with his second violin." 
 
 Miss Matheson laughed: "The king can do no 
 wrong. Of course Churchill would deny that his be- 
 loved Brahms was ever in doubt about anything. 
 Are you fond of Brahms, Miss Winston ?" 
 
 "I have heard only to-night's symphony — and a 
 rhapsody," Hope answered. 
 
 "Oh, yes," nodded Flora. "I have a chum, Rhoda 
 Weathers, who is working on one of the rhapsodies — 
 the second, I believe." 
 
 A bell signaled the end of the intermission, and the 
 74 
 
CONCERNING A CONCERT 
 
 little party dispersed, with expressions of mutual 
 pleasure in the encounter. 
 
 As Hope moved toward the staircase, Churchill 
 Gray, released from his detaining dowager, brushed 
 by. Their eyes met for an instant, and her heart beat 
 rapidly as she went up the stair — perhaps from the 
 exertion of the climb. 
 
 75 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 AN OLD RELIGION AND A NEW WOMAN 
 
 Happy as a lark, without the lark's proclivity to 
 early rising, Princess Hope lazed amid the draperies 
 of her couch in a flood of morning sunlight. Her 
 abundant chestnut hair, borrowing gold from Phoebus, 
 rippled over the pillow. Plump throat and rounded 
 arms to match the muslin's whiteness were grudgingly 
 revealed by the unfastened short-sleeved nightrobe, 
 watchful as duenna of the charms it screened. Her 
 hands were clasped beneath her head; her eyes were 
 curtained against the sunlight ; along her parted lips 
 a smile played lambently. She was in tune with the 
 instant and the infinite — spiritually, sensuously con- 
 tent. 
 
 What a yesterday ! Its history was traced in char- 
 76 
 
AN OLD RELIGION 
 
 acters of gold that danced before her inward eye like 
 Wordsworth's daffodils. Midnight had struck before 
 she sought her rest ; for Madame Jesurin's tongue, set 
 in motion by the "Meistersinger" prelude, had run on 
 "Lohengrin," and "Tannhauser," and "The Ring of 
 the Niebelungen", from the aquatics of the Rhine 
 Maidens to the passing of Walhalla and its gods. A 
 visitor from Mars would not have barkened to the 
 story of our planet more eagerly than Hope listened 
 to this most fascinating tale of faery. In consequence 
 she had not troubled to light her scant preparations 
 for slumber, and had literally tumbled into bed. 
 
 She glanced around the room, and vowed a penance 
 for her lack of tidiness. Shoes and bonnet, stockings, 
 gown, were tossed about in a "sweet disorder" scarcely 
 to bewitch even the poet of "Hesperides." Her eye 
 lighted on the concert programme, lying beside the 
 bed, and she reached for it, smilingly recoUective of 
 the raptures of Doctor Dudelsack. 
 
 The concert being sped, it might be well to learn 
 what it was all about; for evidently 'twas a most 
 recondite matter. She turned to the notes descriptive 
 of the symphony, and continuing where Madame 
 Jesurin had broken off (omitting the Goethe, which 
 she did not understand), she read: 
 
 77 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "And then again, when, pregnant by the sun's warm 
 beams, the mountains do with diamonds teem, the danc- 
 ing nymphs (woodwind doubled above and below) to 
 play invite; and peasants young and old surcease of sor- 
 row seek in laughter, frolic song. Now, in deepest tonal 
 brown, steal in the double-basses, fearful of disturbing 
 the matutinal hush. And now, awed by the dazzling 
 sight (chords in brass, obligato in strings), the harmonies 
 again take wing and vanish, the birdlet fearing to do 
 aught but lisp in evanescent tones. ... 
 
 Pshaw! The rays of morning reduced Dudelsack 
 to a mush. Hope flung the programme at the wall 
 and dropped back among the pillows. 
 
 . It was Sunday morning ; the house was not yet 
 astir; the piano need not be opened; and it was so 
 pleasant to laze and call back yesternight — the mu- 
 sic, the lights, the faces : one face among all the others, 
 seen for an instant only, but unf orgetable : a dark 
 face, with forehead high and rounding back, and full 
 over steady hazel eyes. 
 
 The Prince of the Heart of Gold ! Oh, there wasn't 
 a doubt of it. 
 
 "Churchill," Miss Matheson called him ; "Churchill 
 Gray." She murmured the name softly, twice. Yes, 
 it fitted ; it was not commonplace, nor was it "novelly." 
 He was young, and uncommonly good to look on ; he 
 
 78 
 
AN OLD RELIGION 
 
 was a Brahms enthusiast, and he knew Richard 
 Strauss very well : this was the sum of her knowledge. 
 Was he a musician? Probably. She would know in 
 good time. 
 
 Puff! A breeze from the Land of Common Sense 
 blew her soap bubbles all away. "Hark, Hark, the 
 Lark" scampered through her head, and the sugges- 
 tion shamed her lie-abed laziness. She sprang up, 
 humming the tune, and began to set herself and her 
 establishment in order. 
 
 Madame Jesurin came in after breakfast to inquire 
 whether her young friend was a church-goer. Hope 
 was able to reply that when at home she attended 
 services in Vanceburg as regularly as the weather per- 
 mitted. Church-going was a convention in the Wins- 
 ton family, faithfully observed except when the roads 
 were uncommonly bad. As to religion, she had no 
 preference ; all creeds, she hoped, were good. 
 
 Madame Jesurin likewise avowed the most liberal at- 
 titude toward religion. Some people complain that 
 there are too many creeds; that was nonsense, said 
 Madame. There are as many soul-needs as creeds; 
 and certain restless souls not easily satisfied (Madame 
 for one), must search years before they find the par- 
 ticular creeds they crave. 
 
 79 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Hope was reminded of Mr. Arthur West and vocal 
 methods. "I try 'em all," said that young man, "and 
 trust to luck to hit off the right one." 
 
 "Of late years," remarked Madame, "I have turned 
 more and more to the occult, and at present I am much 
 interested in the faith of Buddha. This morning I 
 attend the first Buddhist services to be held publicly 
 in this city. Perhaps you would like to go." 
 
 Miss Winston thought it would be interesting. 
 
 It proved to be. 
 
 The services were held in the parlor of a third-rate 
 hotel, and some fifty persons, for varying reasons, 
 were gathered to attend them. Madame Jesurin and 
 Hope took seats, and exchanged good mornings with 
 a friendly dame, who spoke approvingly of the 
 weather. Madame Jesurin quoted George Eliot's apos- 
 trophe to autumn ; and while her elders discussed a re- 
 markable October, Hope looked about her curiously, 
 contrasting the incongruous mise en scene and motley 
 audience with the church auditorium and congregation 
 of convention. 
 
 Ten or a dozen well-dressed, alert-looking women, 
 a newspaper man, and a score of Japanese made up 
 the bulk of the audience ; the rest invited the adjective 
 nondescript: faded folk, scant of chin and forehead, 
 
 80 
 
AN OLD RELIGION 
 
 vacuous-eyed, oddly attired — first to flock to the feet 
 of a new Messiah, or to give assent to the proposition 
 that we of earth are living at the center of a globe of 
 glass; or that our planet is a plane, or an isosceles 
 triangle. There's nothing round or flat, but think- 
 ing makes it so. 
 
 In an American metropolis one can start a new re- 
 ligion at any time, at any street comer. All one 
 needs is a strong voice and a soap-box, and the latter 
 need not be insisted on. If one operate at night a 
 torch will be found useful : it attracts moth-souls, and 
 has its value as a symbol. For creed, a few facts, such 
 as : a straight line is the shortest distance between two 
 points ; the sun is ninety-three millions of miles from 
 the earth ; Rome was not built in a day. From these 
 premises one may reason to any desired conclusions. 
 The recipe for a new religion is not unlike that for 
 rabbit pie: first catch your major premise; the rest 
 is simple. 
 
 Bits of the whispered conversation between the 
 friendly dame and Madame Jesurin came to Hope's 
 ears; as: "That is Mrs. West, nearest to Sister 
 Isabelle; Mrs. West is president of our woman's 
 club. Sister Isabelle spoke to us Thursday night; 
 she is Spanish, and was formerly a Catholic nun." 
 
 81 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Hope's eyes traveled to Mrs. West, a tall woman 
 handsomely gowned in black, who sat a little apart 
 from the rest of the audience ; thence to Sister Isabelle, 
 a frail body, robed and bonneted in white, whose thin, 
 austere face, Ht by the candle-gleam of the Past, con- 
 trasted sharply with the complacent features of the 
 club-woman, illuminated by the arc-light of the Pal- 
 pitating Present. 
 
 "I perfectly adore the occult," Madame Jesurin was 
 saying, when Sister Isabelle rose, to enjoin silence with 
 a gentle gesture. 
 
 "We shall begin with music, if some one will vol- 
 unteer." She indicated a piano. "Almost anything 
 will do," she entreated, with a smile of rare sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 No one rising immediately, Madame Jesurin turned 
 to Hope: "Will you not oblige, Miss Winston?" 
 
 Miss Winston held back, embarrassed under the 
 glances turned in her direction; but as nobody else 
 was able or willing to respond, she got up at last and 
 crossed to the piano, wondering what she could play 
 that would not be inappropriate to so solemn an oc- 
 casion. "Almost anything," Sister Isabelle had said ; 
 perhaps the Andante from the "Sonate Pathetique," 
 which was grave and sweet, would answer. Encour- 
 
 82 
 
AN OLD RELIGION 
 
 aged by a nod and a smile from Mrs. West, she be- 
 gan it. 
 
 Her "debut" passed off creditably. She played tht 
 Andante, she thought, better than ever before. An 
 offering to Buddha, it seemed to require a meaning, or 
 a beauty, more than musical, and this she hoped she 
 had given to it ; but whether she had been able to com- 
 municate her mood to her listeners she could not say. 
 When she returned to her seat Madame Jesurin beamed 
 on her, pressed her arm, and whispered: "Grand! I 
 love that!" 
 
 The service went on. Sister Isabelle read the Scrip- 
 tures and interpreted the sublime verities of Gautama. 
 These made no strong appeal to Hope's imagination. 
 To a young woman of eighteen, vibrant with the joy 
 of living and stirred by remembrance of a pair of 
 steady hazel eyes. Nirvana is a particularly empty 
 word. The Offering of the Flowers enlisted her more 
 sympathetic interest, perhaps because of the incon- 
 gruity of symbols and ideas, rather than in spite of 
 it. A third-rate hotel is a poor temple; the marble 
 footing of a tawdry mirror is a barren altar; and a 
 hotel pitcher, so suggestive of ice, chills the warmest 
 imagination. 
 
 After the "sermon," a little talk on Christ and 
 83 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Buddha and the many points they had in common, the 
 simple services were done. Mrs. West, first on her 
 feet, as an alert club-woman should be, in a clear, 
 pleasantly-modulated voice thanked Sister Isabelle, in 
 behalf of the audience, for the pleasure and the profit 
 that were theirs. One naturally assumed that the 
 "affair" had been held under the auspices of the 
 Woman's Club. Mrs. West then undulated to Hope, 
 sprayed her with a smile, and thanked her for the 
 lovely music. 
 
 Mrs. West's conversational voice was pitched much 
 lower than her club voice ; her manner, too, was much 
 less crisp. 
 
 "I suppose I am more interested in music than in 
 any other art," said the lady, with an air suggesting 
 multitudinous irons in the intellectual fire. "I have 
 a son who is devoted to it." 
 
 Miss Winston surmised that the son alluded to was 
 Mr. Arthur West; he was assuredly devoted to vocal 
 music, and daily gave proofs of a strenuous allegiance. 
 She was very glad, she remarked, that Mrs. West had 
 enjoyed her small musical offering. 
 
 **I hope to hear you play again," the lady mur- 
 mured, and receded as a wave. 
 
 "Was it not interesting!" exclaimed Madame Jes- 
 84 
 
AN OLD RELIGION 
 
 urin, when she and Hope at last set their faces toward 
 home. 
 
 Hope assented. "But I do not understand why 
 Mrs. West thanked Sister Isabelle." 
 
 "Oh, these new women !" cried the Countess. "They 
 think they are running the universe." 
 
 "Still," said Hope, "it was for us she thanked the 
 Sister — not for Buddha." 
 
 Madame laughed, and thought her young friend 
 rather bright. 
 
 35 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE BROAD WAY TO PARNASSUS 
 
 ''I am much pleased by the examiner's report on 
 your case," Doctor Erdmann said, when Miss Win- 
 ston presented herself on Monday afternoon. 
 
 He read from the record : "Technic, good ; rhythm, 
 perfect; tone, good; interpretation, intelligent; re- 
 marks — symptoms of genius." 
 
 Miss Winston smiled. The diagnosis was most en- 
 couraging. If there were no heart complications she 
 would likely get on famously. 
 
 Doctor Erdmann gave her a typewritten slip. "A 
 schedule of your lessons," he said. 
 
 "All these!" She glanced down the long list. "I 
 86 
 
BROAD WAY^O PARNASSUS 
 
 had no idea there were so many branches of musical 
 study." 
 
 "Yes-yes. The artist's course covers a great deal 
 of ground, but under our system the student gets over 
 this ground wonderfully fast. Not a moment is 
 wasted ; every tick of the clock means progress." 
 
 She examined the schedule curiously. "Are all the 
 lessons fifteen minutes long?" 
 
 *'A11 class lessons, except lectures, are a quarter- 
 hour in length; one minute is allowed for changing 
 classes. You will perceive the necessity for absolute 
 promptness." 
 
 She could not fail to. 
 
 "Yes-yes. You will notice I have included vocal in- 
 struction: it will do no harm to try out your voice. 
 There are in addition many lectures and recitals: 
 these are free, and you may attend what you have 
 time and taste for. Your first lesson, you will observe, 
 is for four o'clock, — it is nearly that now, — in studio 
 Number Eight-twenty-two." 
 
 She rose, and Doctor Erdmann accompanied her, as 
 on her previous visit, to the outer door, pressing her 
 hand at parting. 
 
 "Do you find your present lodgings satisfactory.?" 
 he inquired solicitously. 
 
 87 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "In Atwood Street? Yes; I think I shall continue 
 to like them." 
 
 "Yes-yes ; I hope so. But Atwood Street is a great 
 way from the conservatory; you may wish to live 
 nearer. Should you decide to make a change, pray 
 inform me. I have a list of extremely desirable homes 
 for students." 
 
 She thanked him. It was kind to take so personal 
 an interest in the conservatory's thousands of stu- 
 dents. 
 
 "The library adjoins my office," he said. "You will 
 find in it a large collection of books on music." 
 
 She drew her fingers away. "I am greatly obliged 
 to you. Doctor Erdmann. Good afternoon." 
 
 As Hope left the elevator at the eighth octave, a 
 gong sounded; then another, and another — a great 
 banging of gongs, some on floors above and some be- 
 low. With the echoes studio doors were flung open, 
 and students poured into the corridor. 
 
 Mercy! she thought, was the building afire.'' No; 
 classes were changing — that was all. The corridor 
 emptied as rapidly as it filled. The Grindstone went 
 on whirling. 
 
 Hope located studio No. 822, and opened the door 
 ' — a full minute late. 
 
 33 
 
BROAD WAY^TO PARNASSUS 
 
 Along one wall of the room ran a bench or table, on 
 which a line of students was practising some sort of 
 callisthenics. At a signal they rose on their toes, 
 hands high and fingers arched, and at another signal 
 pitched forward upon the bench. 
 
 "Something like kneading bread, only more vio- 
 lent," Hope said to herself. 
 
 Observing a new student, the teacher came forward 
 and placed Hope at the end of the line. 
 
 "Do as the others are doing," she said. 
 
 Hope imitated as best she could, and at the first at- 
 tempt came down so heavily that she thought all her 
 fingers were broken. "Relax more," she was directed. 
 She relaxed. 
 
 "This is to acquire volume of tone," the instructor 
 informed her. "The table, you understand, is a piano. 
 D'Albert, the Little Giant of the Keyboard, follows 
 this plan, practising on a pianvil. . . . There, 
 you are getting it better. Try to imagine yoursel? a 
 wave, breaking on the beach." 
 
 "That is more poetical than bread-making," Hope 
 reflected, cresting and combing with the other break- 
 ers. "We shall see some spray presently, if my hair 
 keeps coming down." 
 
 Following this strenuous drill there were lighter 
 89 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 gymnastics for the fingers alone, and a most ingenious 
 exercise for acquiring independence of hands. 
 
 This exercise was more difficult than it seemed. 
 The reader who may have tried the foolish old trick 
 of rubbing the stomach with one hand, round and 
 round, and patting the top of the head with the other, 
 probably never imagined it might be put to an ad- 
 mirable educational use. Pray imagine fifty students 
 performing this drill, while a metronome ticks the 
 tempo. What better preparation for the perfect prac- 
 tice of the gospel of Bach: "Let not thy left hand 
 know what thy right hand docth"? The exercise is 
 cheerfully recommended to all piano students who have 
 difficulty with cross-rhythm. When you can rub your 
 stomach in common time while you pat your head in 
 three-four, dual rhythm will have no further terrors 
 for you. 
 
 When the gong sounded Hope consulted her sched- 
 ule, and found she was due in No. 8S0; and as this 
 studio was on the same octave, she was only half a 
 minute late. She guessed it was her vocal exercise 
 when she saw Arthur West in the double row of stu- 
 dents. He remarked her at the same instant, and 
 shifted his position to the end of his line, that she 
 might stand beside him. 
 
 90 
 
BROAD WAY TO PARNASSUS 
 
 "What is it?" she whispered. " *Money Musk' or 
 Virginia reel ?" 
 
 ^'Ah-h-hr^ he replied mysteriously and in the spirit 
 of her query, "awfully jolly to have you for a part- 
 ner. Didn't know you screeched." 
 
 "I don't," she confided. "I'm just having my voice 
 'tried out' — rendered, you know." 
 
 A Japanese parasol was placed in her hands, and 
 she held it before her, as the others did, ready to open 
 at a signal. 
 
 "You sing 'Ah,' " the instructor advised the new 
 student, "increasing the tone as you open the parasol. 
 This produces a perfect crescendo. . . . One, 
 two, three, singT' 
 
 The parasols opened slowly and evenly to a cho- 
 rused Ah that swelled from pianissimo to forte; at 
 another command they closed, diminuendo. This ex- 
 ercise was repeated until the class was dismissed. 
 
 "Great method, eh?" said West very enthusiastic- 
 ally. 
 
 "Splendid!" Hope agreed. 
 
 "Are you down for the tongue and towel? That 
 comes next." 
 
 "I have only one more lesson, and that is piano." 
 
 "I'll be through for the day myself in ten minutes. 
 91 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Fine weather outside. If jou don't object, Miss Wins- 
 ton, I suggest a walk down the avenue." 
 
 Miss Winston made no objection. 
 
 "My mother tells me she met you yesterday at a 
 Hindoo revival, or something of that sort. She says 
 you scramble divinely." 
 
 "Mrs. West spoke very kindly of my playing." 
 
 "Mother knows the real thing when she hears it. 
 She composes, you know — songs ; all the leading song- 
 birds sing them." 
 
 "Oh, how interesting!" Miss Winston conceived a 
 high opinion of Mrs. West as a composer. 
 
 Arthur laughed: "They can't help it, you know. 
 Mother dedicates the songs to them." 
 
 His laugh was infectious; but neither of them in- 
 tended disrespect to the stately Mrs. West. 
 
 "My next method must be about due," said Hope, 
 referring to her schedule. 
 
 "In ten minutes, then," said Arthur, smiling. 
 
 She nodded, and left him ringing the elevator bell. 
 
 The lair of Professor Jan Van Wart, sometimes re- 
 ferred to as the Studio of the Soul, was on the sky- 
 light octave, and contained more furnishings than one 
 sees in the usual studio. Besides the piano, there was 
 a large wardrobe (beyond the door of which no stu- 
 
 92 
 
BROAD WAY TO PARNASSUS 
 
 dent eye had penetrated), an easy-chair, and a writing 
 table httered with manuscript scores. The floor was 
 rugged, and the walls were covered with portraits of 
 musicians, the great ones being represented many 
 times. There were at least twenty portraits of Liszt, 
 showing the Abbe at all ages; for Professor Van 
 Wart, as the Grindstone catalogue advised one, was 
 Liszt's "favorite pupil." On the mantel were many 
 curious relics of the Abbe. Most treasured were a 
 cigarette stub which the master once tossed away with- 
 out a thought of its value, a collar-button lost during 
 an exciting lesson, and the pen with which the syrupy 
 Liehestrdume was written. 
 
 Hope loitered near the Studio of the Soul, waiting 
 for the gong. When it sounded the door opened and 
 a damsel emerged. She turned on the new student a 
 pair of big brown eyes, uttered, in a tone of solemn 
 warning, the one word "Beethoven," and glided to- 
 ward the elevator. Looking after her, Hope thought : 
 "How like a ghost she moves !" 
 
 The studio was in half-light, and Hope did not at 
 once perceive Van Wart. She closed the door softly, 
 and presently made out the professor, a roly-poly 
 figure in the depths of the easy-chair. He was not 
 bad-looking. To be sure, his high, straight forehead 
 
 93 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 was corrugated in a "frightful, frantic, fearful 
 frown" worthy of the Lord High Executioner him- 
 self, and above this was flung back his wild unparted 
 mane; but there were dimples in his chubby cheeks, 
 and the lines around his mouth were persistently mirth- 
 ful. He was staring fixedly at a large portrait of Bee- 
 thoven above the mantel. 
 
 Hope Coughed softly, and this failing to draw his 
 attention she took seat on the piano stool and looked 
 curiously about the studio. At last Van Wart turned 
 his head and fixed his dreamy eyes on her. 
 
 "Play," he said, in a voice remote. Hope turned to 
 the keyboard. 
 
 What should it be? . . . Beethoven, of course. 
 The girl with the brown eyes had said the word, and 
 Van Wart's absorption in the portrait showed the 
 drift of his meditations. The very atmosphere of the 
 studio was charged with Beethoven. 
 
 She poised her hands for the last movement of the 
 "Moonlight Sonata", which had proved effective with 
 Herr Notensatt; but suddenly reflecting that Van 
 Wart's dreamy mood and the twilit studio were better 
 matched by the first movement, she played that in- 
 stead. 
 
 With the opening measures the professor rose and 
 94 
 
w 
 
 The professor rose and paced slowly to and fro Page g^ 
 
BROAD WAY TO PARNASSUS 
 
 paced slowly to and fro, one hand thrust in his waist- 
 coat. His mane had tumbled down his brow, his big 
 bow tie was in disorder, his upturned eyes rolled in a 
 fine frenzy. 
 
 He stopped beside the piano. "Louder! Louder!" 
 he commanded irritably. 
 
 "But it's marked pianissimo !" exclaimed Hope, 
 dropping her hands, respect for authority submerged 
 in surprise. 
 
 Van Wart struck his forehead with a clenched fist. 
 ''Ach, Gott! my deafness !" 
 
 "Oh, the poor man !" thought Hope. "I should have 
 played the last movement." 
 
 Feeling it was useless to go on with the Adagio, she 
 played the Presto, forte throughout. 
 
 "There !" — concluding with a thumping chord — "if 
 you can't hear that you're hopeless." 
 
 Van Wart turned, with what sounded suspiciously 
 like a chuckle, and depositing his pudgy self in the 
 easy-chair, resumed his study of Beethoven's face. 
 Mystified, and a trifle annoyed, Hope picked up her 
 gloves and marched out of the studio. 
 
 Another damsel was in waiting. 
 
 "What is he to-day.?" she whispered, her hand on 
 the door-knob. 
 
 95 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Crazy," Hope replied briefly, and without pausing 
 in her march. "Oh!" — suddenly recalling the exit of 
 the girl with the brown eyes, and turning her head — 
 "Beethoven !" 
 
 "Thanks," said the other, and passed in. 
 
 Evidently "Beethoven" was a countersign. 
 
 Arthur West tarried below. He was in high spirits, 
 and Hope forgot her annoyance at sight of his smil- 
 ing face. 
 
 "I've just heard of a splendid thing," he said, as 
 they strolled down the boulevard. "A voice-rectifier 
 and tone-cultivator, or something of that sort. Shaped 
 like a wedge, and when you put it in your mouth it 
 gives just the right opening of the teeth. When the 
 mouth is in position you sing. Price fifty cents." 
 
 "How curious ! I never dreamed that learning to 
 sing was such a complicated matter." 
 
 "Oh, It's simple enough if you get hold of the right 
 method. All luck, you know." 
 
 "What is the 'tongue and towel' you spoke about.? 
 Is that another method.?" 
 
 "Why," — Arthur launched enthusiastically into the 
 exposition, — "the tongue Is an unruly member, es- 
 pecially with young singers. It rises in the back of 
 the mouth, and stiffens itself so it blocks the passage 
 
 96 
 
BROAD WAY TO PARNASSUS 
 
 of the tone. Now, this obstruction must be removed, 
 you know." 
 
 Hope agreed that the unruly member should be ex- 
 pelled in some way, short of cutting it out. 
 
 "Some genius — I forget his name — adopted the 
 simple expedient of seizing the tip of the tongue with 
 the fingers encased in toweling, and drawing it for- 
 ward until the throat is open. Then you screech." 
 
 "Simplicity itself." 
 
 "Some teachers claim that the best results are ob- 
 tained by using a studio towel, imbued, as it were, 
 with the spirit of true tone, and well trained." 
 
 Miss Winston thought it would be much nicer to 
 have individual towels. She fancied, too, that after 
 the towel had learned its owner's peculiarities it would 
 serve him better than one which had the tribulations 
 of many aspiring students on its mind. 
 
 "Mine has troubles of its own," said Arthur rue- 
 fully. "Did you have a good lesson ?" 
 
 "No, indeed. The teacher was deaf as an adder. 
 How absurd!" 
 
 "Deaf? Oh-h-h! Van Wart! Weren't you told 
 about him.f*" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 The young man chuckled. "There's nothing the 
 97 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 matter with Van Wart's ears except their size and 
 shape. This must be his Beethoven day. Sit mooning 
 at a portrait of the old man .?" 
 
 "Yes; and walked up and down the room like one 
 possessed." 
 
 "That's it; that's the method. He communes with 
 the spirit of the master." 
 
 "Indeed ! And where do I come in .?" 
 
 "Oh, you draw inspiration from the master through 
 Van Wart; he radiates it; he's a medium. The audi- 
 ence is invited to step forward and see that the cabinet 
 is empty." 
 
 Hope took half a minute to digest this interesting 
 information. "Well . . . Beethoven must have 
 been feeling pretty grumpy to-day. That's all the in- 
 spiration I got." 
 
 "I dare say." West laughed. "Better luck next 
 time. I mean, you know, that every day isn't Bee- 
 thoven day with Van Wart. Most of the students like 
 his Chopin act best ; though some prefer Wagner day, 
 when he wears nothing but silk and velvet, and talks 
 politics all through the lesson. But you want to watch 
 out for him on Liszt days — though he doesn't mean 
 anything." 
 
 "Why, how does he perform on Liszt days .''" 
 98 
 
BROAD WAY^O PARNASSUS 
 
 Arthur gave her a quick side glance. Her eyes 
 were innocently curious. 
 
 "Ask Flora Matheson," he replied. 
 
 Conversation halted; then Hope remarked: "Is 
 Miss Matheson a student at our conservatory?" 
 
 "She studies vocal there, and piano with Mrs. Sudo. 
 You'll have to get Miss Matheson to tell you about 
 the Sudo method ; it's over my head. Something about 
 circles. . . . Hello, there's Church Gray ahead 
 of us, looking in the art-store window. May I present 
 him? Awfully good chap." 
 
 Hope murmured an assent, conscious of a height- 
 ened color. 
 
 Mr. Churchill Gray's acknowledgment of the intro- 
 duction consisted of a repetition of the words "Miss 
 Winston" and a slight inclination of the head. His 
 eyes were less aloof. 
 
 "I'd have presented you Saturday night if Ma 
 Keith hadn't pounced on you," West remarked. 
 
 "I recall seeing Miss Winston in the foyer," said 
 Gray. 
 
 Hope's heart thumped. He, too, had remembered ! 
 
 Gray glanced back to the shop window. 
 
 "What have you found now that's good?" asked 
 Arthur. 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Nothing new — a picture of Brahms; an impres- 
 sion, a memory sketch, I beheve. Very good copy." 
 
 "Oh, is that Brahms?" exclaimed Miss Winston, 
 vastly interested. 
 
 "That's the man," said Gray. 
 
 Arthur took off his hat in mock reverence. "Good 
 old Brahms !" 
 
 Hope stole a look at Gray's face, and noted that the 
 mouth was singularly sweet and tenderly mirthful, 
 though nuptialed to a serious chin. 
 
 "What is Brahms playing, do you suppose?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "His D-minor Capriccio, it pleases me to think," 
 Gray answered. "The left hand tops the right in that 
 fashion." 
 
 "Curious-looking old chap," said West. "Built 
 something like Van Wart." 
 
 "Oh !" expostulated Hope. 
 
 "A modern writer throws a light on Brahms's pe- 
 culiar architecture," said Gray, with a smile. "In one 
 breath, almost, he observes that Brahms was 'not 
 knee-high to Beethoven,' yet 'his shoulders were broaH 
 enough to bear the imposing weight of Beethoven's 
 mantle.' That would seem to account for his squatti- 
 
 100 
 
BROAD WAY TO 1> A R N A S S U S 
 
 "The dachshund of composers," remarked Arthur 
 irreverently. 
 
 "He has a beautiful face," said Hope, looking wist- 
 fully at the picture. 
 
 "Are you interested in Brahms, Miss Winston.?" 
 
 Did she merely imagine it, or was there just the 
 suggestion of a sneer in the inquiry ? 
 
 "I know nothing about Brahms," she answered in- 
 differently, and turned from the window. 
 
 Gray raised his hat, and they separated. 
 
 "Awfully brainy chap," said West, when he and 
 Hope resumed their stroll. 
 
 "Yes.?" she replied, without enthusiasm. 
 
 " 'Way up in music, so Karl Geiteti &d j4 ^jid Geist 
 knows all there is to know about it." •••,-, " , ' , 
 
 "Mr. Gray is a musician, then." - ' '»' • '• ' 
 
 "He writes about music; he's the Posfs critic. 
 Knocks the musicians good and hard, and they pre- 
 tend to Hke it." 
 
 "He looks as if he might write and say provoking 
 things." 
 
 "Do you think so? Well, he's a good fellow, for all 
 that. You'll fancy him." 
 
 "Perhaps so," said Hope impassively. 
 
 On the way home she bought a copy of the Po^t^ 
 ■ 101 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TOUCHING 
 
 MATTERS OF 
 POBTANCE 
 
 MINOR IM- 
 
 The week slipped: memorably fleet were the days. 
 Time, iaugbiiig-, tossed the hours from his glass, and 
 swore the jest of life was excellent. 
 
 O Youth! Youth! . . . Alas, what is there 
 new that may be said on the subject ! 
 
 Youth is beloved of the gods. Youth is life's beau- 
 tiful moment, a May morning, an eternal canticle. 
 Youth is the golden prime, beautiful in its follies, 
 supreme happiness in itself. Youth is all that sage 
 has said and poet sung. And yet — 
 
 Would you, Five-and-Forty, who have crossed the 
 divide and begun the descent into the mist-hidden 
 valley of age — would you go back over the trail, f or- 
 
 102 
 
OF MINOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 going one by one the memories of the ascent, and part- 
 ing piece by piece with the gold of experience ? Would 
 the blown rose furl its petals and be a bud again? 
 
 Our Princess Hope, still in the sun-drenched vale of 
 youth, ran each day a losing race with Phoebus. No 
 real Princess, at home or abroad, ever had half so 
 much to do and think about as she. 
 
 First, there was her music — piano practice morn- 
 ing and afternoon, and lessons and lectures at the 
 Grindstone ; these were restricted to three days in the 
 week. Next in importance came her household duties, 
 the not inconsiderable burden of which she faithfully 
 discharged. Some time, too, she contrived to spare for 
 adding to the attractiveness of her new home. The 
 easy-chair looked better for a cretonne cover. A 
 square of India print on the table brightened up the 
 larger room. A photograph of Herr Herschel, "rever- 
 enced as a god," was shrined on the piano : only can- 
 dles were wanting. 
 
 Thus far her evenings had been free, but these were 
 short-houred as the days. Matched with Madame 
 Jesurin's fleet tongue. Time ran his legs off, and con- 
 fessed himself outclassed. Two nights of the week the 
 Countess was engaged with language classes; and, 
 left to herself, Hope read "With Rack and Wheel : A 
 
 103 
 
THE CPIARLATANS 
 
 Romance of the Holy Inquisition", by Stanley Arthur 
 Jones — one of the six best-selling books of the hour. 
 Madame lent her the book, with a rhapsody upon it. 
 
 Hope echoed the praises faintly. Not that "With 
 Rack and Wheel" fell short of the standards of his- 
 torical romance; on the contrary, it reeked with ap- 
 proved merits; but the world which Hope inhabited 
 appeared to her more wonderful than the world of 
 Stanley Arthur Jones's fancy. The dancing of his 
 puppets entertained; at best they could not seem so 
 real to her as to the gentleman who pulled the strings. 
 
 As for her music, no progress was yet perceivable. 
 By diligent hammering at Bach and Czemy she re- 
 covered the ground lost by three days of idleness, but 
 she did not seem to get over the keys so readily as be- 
 fore. Perhaps she practised incorrectly the conserva- 
 tory callisthenics. 
 
 There could be, of course, no criticism of the Grind- 
 stone's methods ; these were founded on scientific prin- 
 ciples, and no more admitted of criticism than the law 
 of gravity. 
 
 As we have seen, she was drilled in tone volume, and 
 in manual and digital independence. She received in- 
 struction in staccato — compelled by an electrically- 
 heated metallic keyboard ; so hot were the keys that the 
 
 104 
 
OF MINOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 fingers touched them an infinitesimal part of a second ; 
 a staccato of rare crispness was the result. A pianis- 
 simo so fine that "nothing lived 'twixt it and silence," 
 was obtained by holding down the pedal while the last 
 struck chord expired, and then pretending to strike 
 the chord again — an effect similar to that which vio- 
 linists produce by detaching the bow from the strings 
 and drawing it through the air. For the acquisition 
 of the "velvet touch," plush-faced keyboards were em- 
 ployed, and it became second nature to touch the keys 
 caressingly. (No doubt Monsieur Paderewski and 
 other pianists, whose "beautiful touch" so arouses our 
 enthusiasm, practise daily on a velvet keyboard.) She 
 learned to open a parasol and sing Ah crescendo. She 
 imbibed the spirit of Beethoven through that most 
 sensitive of mediums. Professor Jan Van Wart. She 
 learned something of musical analysis and history; 
 she had nine minutes of ear-training, and as many 
 more of sight-reading and ensemble playing; she 
 picked up a few facts in harmony, a study which 
 interested her immediately, and into which she was im- 
 patient to go deeper. The week brought, also, a valu- 
 able lesson in stage presence: she was shown how to 
 approach a piano, how to bow, how to leave the stage, 
 how to accept and bear off floral offerings. On Friday 
 
 105 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 came a remarkable lecture by Doctor Emil Dudelsack, 
 who occupied the chair of "How to Listen to Music." 
 Doctor Dudelsack discoursed of Humperdinck's Han- 
 sel und Gretel, the Prelude to which was on the pro- 
 gramme for the second Symphony concert. 
 
 "Hark !" he said, with bated breath. "Is that flim- 
 mering on the violins the stealthy footfall of some 
 ravening creature of the wild ? No ; 'tis but the night 
 wind moaning through rustling leaves, a threnody of 
 poignant despair not untinged with irony. . . ." 
 
 Murmurous appreciation circled the class-room as 
 Dudelsack paused a moment, intoxicated by the ex- 
 uberance of his own virtuosity. "Isn't that perfectly 
 sweet!" passed from lip to lip. The Doctor ran his 
 fingers through his pompadour and resumed : 
 
 "Another rustling on the violins betokens the com- 
 ing day. The odoriferous breeze, incense of nature's 
 glorious cathedral, floats dewily through the forest 
 aisles. Phaethon is harnessing the horses to the 
 Chariot of the Sun. The music increases in bright- 
 ness. A trumpet call! Phaethon is off! — through 
 the purple portals of the east and down the rose- 
 strewn pathway of the Zodiac. Listen ! The flute and 
 oboe passage is the dance of nymphs and naiads. The 
 forest glows with sunlight. . . ." 
 
 106 
 
OF MINOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 Thus, in flowing periods, Dudelsack expressed his 
 soul. 
 
 "If Madame Jesurin were only here!" said Hope. 
 "Madame would love the Doctor. ..." 
 
 Twice during the week Miss Winston was accorded 
 the privilege of a heart-to-heart talk with the presi- 
 dent of the Colossus. On both occasions he was most 
 gracious, sympathetically inquiring, solicitous for her 
 musical and physical welfare. Was she quite satisfied 
 with the disposition of her hours at the conservatory ? 
 If not, a rearrangement was possible. Was she get- 
 ting along nicely with her studies.? A little early to 
 say.? — "yes-yes." She must keep him advised of her 
 progress, nor hesitate to acquaint him of any obstruc- 
 tion to the free expression of her soul. "Come m at 
 any time," he said. "I like to see as much of the stu- 
 dents as possible." ("Especially if they are feminine 
 and physically attractive," his eyes added. ) 
 
 Mr. Arthur West also contrived to see Miss Wins- 
 ton on the days she visited the conservatory ; he 
 seemed to spend a great deal of his time there. Hope 
 attached no significance to his original scrutiny of her 
 lesson schedule. She recalled Mrs. West's statement 
 that Arthur was devoted to music: that was obvious. 
 
 One day she stopped before the art-shop window 
 107 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 for a second look at the picture of Brahms ; a great 
 desire to possess it came over her. And then her brow 
 puckered at the recollection of Churchill Gray's in- 
 quiry: "Are you interested in Brahms, Miss Wins- 
 ton?" Was he mocking her? She wished she knew ; if 
 he were, she would be angry with him. Did he im- 
 agine that nobody except himself could be interested 
 in Brahms? 
 
 She took courage to ask the price of the sketch, and 
 found, as she feared, that it was beyond her means. 
 If Mr. Gray was so tremendously interested in Brahms 
 why did he not buy the picture and bear the treasure 
 home in triumph, as she would do if she did not have 
 to count her pennies ? Perhaps he already had a copy. 
 
 She turned her steps toward a music store. If the 
 master's portrait was beyond her reach, she might at 
 least purchase some of his compositions. Alas, these 
 proved unexpectedly high in price. 
 
 "All Brahms music is dear," the clerk informed her. 
 "Copyrighted, you know." 
 
 The First and Second Rhapsodies (they came to- 
 gether) cost a dollar; but the temptation was not to 
 be resisted. 
 
 "I shall have to economize at the butcher's," she re- 
 flected as she left the store and hastened to Atwood 
 
 108 
 
OF MINOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 Street to act on the familiar suggestion : "Take this 
 home and try it over on your piano." 
 
 The Second Rhapsody, which Mrs. Maybury had 
 played for her, was not so difficult as the first ; and it 
 was a joy merely to read the grim harmonic outlines. 
 She set herself to the task of learning Number Two. 
 
 With her domestic environment Miss Winston was 
 well content, despite its distance from the conserva- 
 tory. Mrs. Grady continued sympathetically kind; 
 and after the first shock of surprise she accepted John 
 Grady. That good man's idea of after-dinner com- 
 fort was to remove his shoes and deposit his feet in 
 one kitchen chair while he sat in another and read the 
 Evening Telegraph. 
 
 The only other male about the house was Patrick, 
 the f etcher of coals. He, too, was a man of few words, 
 even when "under the influence" ; scrupulously polite, 
 anxious to please. When Saturday came, and Hope 
 paid him his twenty-five cents, he removed his non- 
 descript cap and made her a bow which would have 
 passed muster before any Princess. 
 
 That evening Hope attended, unaccompanied, the 
 second Symphony concert. 
 
 109 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 Wishing to make certain of a seat, Hope arrived in 
 Music Hall full fifteen minutes before the concert be- 
 gan. Very few people were on hand, nor did the gal- 
 lery fill rapidly as the minutes passed ; down stairs it 
 was no better. The hall was a great bam, to be sure, 
 yet opening night had seen it crowded. 
 
 She looked over the programme notes. Beethoven's 
 Seventh Symphony, first on the list, had inspired 
 Dudelsack to flights of poesy seldom soared to; 
 while the notes to Hansel und Gretel, as we already 
 know from the sample, were "perfectly sweet." 
 
 Interesting also were the advertisements in the pro- 
 gramme book. Surprisingly large was the number of 
 
 110 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 musical institutions in the city. Some of these were 
 conservatories, some were colleges, seminaries, schools. 
 This from the prospectus of a "musical seminary" : 
 
 *'One of the largest, most thorough and systematic in- 
 stitutions in America. SCHOOL OF RAPID PRO- 
 GRESS. Originators of the ONLY perfect method of 
 musical instruction. NO DRUDGERY. LIKE A TRIP 
 TO FAIRYLAND. Beautiful and charming melodies 
 from the start. Even the OLD, who have been prevented 
 studying music in youth, can now acquire the knowledge 
 so long withheld from them. Twenty lessons enable 
 young or old to perform on piano, banjo, mandolin or 
 guitar that which requires years by the old method. 
 SURPRISE FRIENDS. Thousands of testimonials. 
 Open evenings. Catalogue free." 
 
 A musical mail-order house engaged to teach the 
 art by correspondence. Another institution promised 
 excellent results from absent treatment. A voice cul- 
 turist, whose photograph suggested the gentlemanly 
 advance agent for a patent wringer, informed the 
 world, regardless of syntax, that he gave "careful at- 
 tention to instruct the pupil in deep breathing, so as to 
 open the throat, so as the tone comes forward to their 
 proper placement in the tone chamber." Two or three 
 rivals of Doctor Dudelsack offered to pilot the tender- 
 foot through the bogs of Beethoven, the desert of 
 
 111 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Grieg, the dark tarn of Chopin, the misty mid-region 
 of Brahms. One lady, appreciating that we live in a 
 concentrated and predigested age, was prepared to 
 ciccompany a party voyaging to Bayreuth, and to ex- 
 plain on the way over what Richard Wagner was driv- 
 ing at. "Artists" available for "private recitals or 
 salon musicales," and pundits desirous to discourse to 
 women's clubs, were represented by cards. The manu- 
 facturers of the Rosencrantz and Guildenstem Piano- 
 Play er called the attention of the "tired professional 
 or business man" to "a relaxation that means greater 
 force and energy the next day" ; this marvelous inven- 
 tion was under the instantaneous control of the most 
 fatigued dentist or coal merchant, who might "vary 
 the touch from, a soft, velvety legato to a blow so 
 powerful that it was never exceeded by a Liszt or 
 Rub en stein." 
 
 Hope turned her attention to the people about her. 
 A middle-aged man with pallid side-whiskers was read- 
 ing a country newspaper. A kindly- faced priest talkeH 
 of Bach to three young men who listened alertly. A 
 pair of lovers munched caramels and looked sweeter 
 things. A serious-featured young man, a violinist (his 
 fiddle-box was between his knees), discoursed remmis- 
 ccntly of Berlin to his companion. He had played, he 
 
 112 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 remarked casually, under the baton of Brahms. Hope 
 leaned forward, wishing to hear more; but the stage 
 bell rang, the orchestral units swarmed in, and a rus- 
 tling of programmes signified a general curiosity 
 touching the first number: just as a man who, a mo- 
 ment previously, has ascertained that it is six o'clock, 
 pulls out his watch again if asked the time. 
 
 Regarding the emotions of Miss Winston during 
 the progress of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony her 
 biographer deems it sufficient to depose that she 
 listened reverently, and was spiritually exalted. He es- 
 says no analysis of her soul processes, or Beethoven's, 
 for two reasons : first, to invite comparison with Doc- 
 tor Dudelsack would be disastrous ; second, he is un- 
 fortunately not of those who are able to "see things" 
 in music. For pictures he is compelled to go to art 
 galleries; for philosophical ideas he is restricted to 
 books and spoken words ; and he misses utterly that 
 welter of the emotions which music produces, with 
 equal facility, in the breasts of the happy Hottentot 
 and the "music-lover" of civilization. He feels his 
 limitations keenly; and honesty compels the avowal 
 that the subject of this biography was no less deficient 
 in capacity for "seeing things" : their mutual poverty 
 of imagination is one of many "bonds invisible." This 
 
 113 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 confession made, the present writer retires discreetly, 
 leaving Dudelsack . in undisputed possession of the 
 field, and the biography proceeds. 
 
 As Herr Herschel raised his baton for the Bach 
 suite, second on the programme, Churchill Gray en- 
 tered the gallery, tiptoed down the aisle, and took an 
 end chair. He sat with arms folded, head tilted for- 
 ward and to one side, blissfully unconscious that he 
 divided with Johann Sebastian Bach the attention of a 
 young woman three rows behind him. Moments there 
 were when Bach seemed utterly routed, but he tri- 
 umphed in the end ; still, there was no saying how he 
 would fare in a second encounter. 
 
 When the audience began to disperse for the inter- 
 mission that followed. Gray, returning up the aisle, 
 observed Miss Winston, paused, and put a hand on the 
 back of the vacant chair beside her. 
 
 "Did you intend a promenade?" he inquired. 
 
 She murmured a negative, and he sat down, remark- 
 ing: "Herschel leaves nothing to be desired when he 
 reads the old master*." 
 
 She expressed satisfaction with everything that 
 Herr Herschel did; she was not wise enough to crit- 
 icize. 
 
 "Or ignorant enough ?" he suggested. 
 Hi 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 "If only ignorance were required I should make a 
 famous critic." 
 
 "It has made many a one. Ignorance with assur- 
 ance is invincible." 
 
 She drew his attention to the man with the pallid 
 side-whiskers. "He has been reading that newspaper 
 ever since he sat down. What docs he come here for?" 
 
 "Why, it's warm and bright, and more private than 
 a club." 
 
 "Do you suppose he hears the music?" 
 
 "Evidently it doesn't annoy him." 
 
 "Nor that couple," — indicating the caramel-munch- 
 ers. 
 
 " 'If niusic be the food of love, play on.' " 
 
 "There are lots of interesting faces here," said 
 Hope. "You don't ascend to the hurricane deck as a 
 rule, do you V* 
 
 "No. I came up to-night for the Bach; I have a 
 notion it is heard better from here. My seats on the 
 lower floor are a trifle too far forward." 
 
 "It must be pleasanter down stairs, on the whole." 
 
 "The chairs are more comfortable, and it is quieter ; 
 contrary to tradition, the wealthy patrons make less 
 noise when the orchestra is playing than the so-called 
 music-lovers up here. But the lights in the parquet 
 
 115 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 are more trying to the eyes, and the feminine con- 
 tingent more highly scented — more suggestive of 
 drug-store blotters." 
 
 "I hope the ushers down stairs don't wear such 
 squeaky shoes and tramp about so. It is difficult to 
 keep one's mind on the music, there is such a clatter." 
 "Yes ; it is difficult. There are many distractions in 
 a public hall; so few people have any consideration 
 for the rights of others; though I surmise that the 
 nervous pace at which we all live would preclude con- 
 centration in the most favorable conditions. I reason 
 from my own experience: I enjoy music properly only 
 on a few rare occasions — ^when my nervous energy is 
 not spent for the day, or when there has been space 
 for recuperation. And if I, to whom music is more 
 than a means of entertainment, find myself at times 
 unable to endure it, why quarrel with the folks who 
 wish merely to have their ears tickled?" 
 
 "But you do quarrel with them — in the. Post. ^' 
 "Oh !" He shrugged. "On general principles." 
 "Well, 7W?/ nerves are good ; and I feel I could listen 
 to all the music in the world." 
 
 Gray smiled indulgently at her enthusiasm. "I 
 thought so once myself," he said. "I still think so — 
 when I come out of the woods in the fall, with a new 
 
 116 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 lease of nerve life and my mental affairs set in order ; 
 but in two or three months I begin to grow restless, 
 until, at the fag end of the season, I can cut a concert 
 without a pang." 
 
 He spoke slowly, and his voice was the most musi- 
 cal she had ever heard. His eyes, too, were remarkably 
 attractive, and she found herself looking steadily into 
 them without confusion. 
 
 They chatted the intermission away, and Gray kept 
 his seat beside her till the concert's end. When they 
 descended to the lower floor he observed that she was 
 not joined by friend or acquaintance, and asked the 
 pleasure of accompanying her home. She discouraged 
 the idea ; she lived such a great distance off. Pressed 
 for details, she mentioned street and number. 
 
 "We take the same trolley," he smiled. "Therefore, 
 unless objection be made — " 
 
 Squeezed in a corner of a crowded street-car, after 
 ten minutes of hanging to straps, conversation was 
 resumed. Miss Winston remarked on the size of the 
 audience attending the concert. Were light houses the 
 rule or the exception .? 
 
 "Perhaps half of the series are well attended," said 
 Gray. "It takes a great many people to fill Music 
 Hall. Still, there Is no excuse for vacant seats in the 
 
 117 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 gallery. There are enough music students in town to 
 fill the house twice over." 
 
 Hope expressed a mild surprise that music students 
 should be indifferent to the privilege of hearing the 
 Symphony Orchestra. 
 
 "If they were really students, conditions might be 
 otherwise," Gray replied; "but the average student, 
 so called, cares little about music, and contrives to 
 learn even less. The schools do not, it is true, advise 
 against attending the Herschel concerts; but on the 
 other hand, they do not say, 'Attend them religiously : 
 they will teach you more than we can.' " 
 
 "In another way." 
 
 "In an honester way. . . . But the advice if 
 given would be wasted. The student's single ambition 
 is to possess a diploma, with which to set up in the 
 provinces as a teacher. A teacher of music!" Inef- 
 fable contempt informed the words. "She ought to be 
 back on the farm, helping her mother with the house- 
 work. . . . Oh, I beg your pardon !" 
 
 Hope's face was suddenly scarlet, her under lip 
 quivering. 
 
 "It was thoughtless of me," he said. "I might have 
 guessed — " 
 
 She caught him up swiftly. 
 118 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 "Yes; you might have guessed. Anybody can see 
 I am from the provinces." 
 
 "I did not mean that, Miss Winston," he replied 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I am from the provinces, and I 
 should be at home, helping my mother with the house- 
 work." 
 
 *'I refuse to acquiesce." 
 
 "Privately you do." 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 "I can not speak for the average student," said 
 Hope, her composure recovered ; "but if she is as poor 
 as I am, she has very little money to spend on concert 
 tickets. Light purses may account for the vacant 
 seats in Music Hall, Mr. Gray." 
 
 "I confess I overlooked that point," said Gray con- 
 tritely. "It is so long since I bought a concert ticket, 
 I quite forgot that money was asked for them." 
 
 She had been looking straight before her, but at this 
 she turned on him a coolly critical glance, sweeping 
 downward from opera hat to patent leathers. He bore 
 it with a sardonic smile. . . • 
 
 Hope touched the conductor's arm: "Atwood 
 Street, please." And to Gray : "I thank you for your 
 company." 
 
 119 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Privately you do not," he returned good-huraor- 
 edly. 
 
 They debarked together. 
 
 "You have come a long way past your own street- 
 comer, have you not?" said Hope. 
 
 "A few squares." 
 
 "Twenty, at a guess." 
 
 "I refuse to count them." 
 
 "There comes a car — and I can see my doorway 
 from here." 
 
 "I shall walk home. . . . But not until you 
 have forgiven my thoughtless speech." 
 
 "You shall not be delayed. Truth does not need 
 forgiveness, Mr. Gray. You simply did not know that 
 I was of the presumptuous ones." 
 
 "I am sure you are not." 
 
 "But I am." They paused before No. 69. "I am 
 all you suspect. I shall go back to the provinces with 
 my diploma, tied with a pretty pink ribbon, and set 
 up as a teacher of music. A teacher of music !" — she 
 sought to reproduce his scornful accents. "I shall 
 charge fifty cents an hour for adults, and twenty-five 
 cents for children." 
 
 He did not smile with her. He suspected that the 
 tears were not far away. 
 
 1^0 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE GOOSE 
 
 "Do me the justice to remember," he said, "that I 
 spoke of the average student ; and permit me to think 
 of you as something better." 
 
 "You will not think of me at all." 
 
 "Is that a command ?" 
 
 "No ; a prophecy. Good night, Mr. Gray." 
 
 "Good night." 
 
 The door closed after her, and he turned away, 
 saying : "Another goose for the charlatans to pluck." 
 Then, obeying a sudden impulse, he retraced his steps, 
 and noted down the goose's house-number. 
 
 "I owe something for cutting her up so," he re- 
 marked to the street-lamp ; and with a final glance at 
 the house, and a shrug of his shoulders, he went his 
 way. 
 
 121 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A CL.ATTER OF MUSICAI. SHOP; WITH 
 
 SOME RULES FOR SUCCEEDING 
 
 IN LITERATURE 
 
 In the catalogue of human passions, the desire to 
 get something for nothing deserves a line in black- 
 face. It is universal as love and hatred, strong as 
 envy. Nothing so worthless but it is desired, only let 
 it be gratis. 
 
 The concerts in the recital hall of the Colossus Con- 
 servatory of Music, performed by students and mem- 
 bers of the faculty, were far from being worthless, 
 but had they been utterly without merit and reason 
 for existence, they would have drawn; for they were 
 without price, to students and the public, and always 
 the hall was crowded. 
 
 122 
 
A CLATTER OF. MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 Artistically these concerts left much — on occasion 
 everything — ^to be desired. They were of value chiefly 
 to the students, who through them were made aware 
 of the existence of good music, however little real in- 
 terest in it they might afterward exhibit. 
 
 Thus to-night the programme is given over wholly 
 to Mozart, of whose music Hope Winston has y^t to 
 hear the first note. 
 
 As she was casting about for a seat in the rapidly- 
 filling hall, Miss Winston was sighted by Flora 
 Matheson, and invited to make one of a merry group 
 whose other units were Arthur West, Karl Geist, and 
 Stanley Arthur Jones. 
 
 The author of "With Rack and Wheel" was a fine- 
 looking chap, very tall, with silky brown mustache 
 and curly hair to match it. He was telling Miss 
 Matheson, In whom he evidenced a more than casual 
 interest, that his favorite composition. In all music, 
 was Weber's "Invitation to the Dance." 
 
 "Though peradventure," he added, "Professor 
 Gelst would visit disapproval on my choice, in very 
 sooth." 
 
 Mr. Jones on occasion relapsed Into the archaic. 
 For years he had breathed the atmosphere of histor- 
 ical romance, and was now assisting to oxygenate it ; 
 
 123 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 so that at times, when the whim took him, his language 
 and his manner were of an elder day. He carried it 
 oif well, as he had all the qualifications of a hero of 
 romance, and if occasion should arise he was prepared 
 to act the part ; for no Gentleman of France was more 
 chivalrous, or had a keener eye for a damsel in dis- 
 tress. Unfortunately, such female distress as came to 
 Mr. Jones's notice was of a minor sort, calling for re- 
 lief no more heroic than you or I could provide. Jones 
 wore cloak and sword; but, in deference to modern 
 convention, the cloak was an Inverness coat, and the 
 sword was concealed in his cane. He would, I am sure, 
 give an excellent account of himself in an ambuscade 
 (known to our vulgar age as a "hold-up") ; but he 
 went unmolested by highwaymen, despite the fact that 
 he exposed himself constantly. Certain thoroughfares 
 of ill repute, avoided after nightfall by discreet ones, 
 Jones threaded with a challenging step, prepared 
 to cry "Have at you!" and "Gadzooks!" and other 
 terror-breeding phrases. Many a prowling rascal 
 escaped, by the mere luck of being elsewhere, a sword- 
 thrust in his chest ; for our hero was cunning at fence 
 (the favorite pupil of Signor Rapiero), and intrepid 
 as D'Artagnan. 
 
 To his remark Miss Matheson replied: "All music 
 124 
 
A CLATTER OF^ MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 looks alike to Professor Geist. He has no favorite 
 composition." 
 
 Mr. Jones declined to credit such catholicity. He 
 ventured the hazard of a box of chocolates that, were 
 all music to be swept away, Professor Geist would 
 plead for the retention of at least one opus. 
 
 Miss Matheson leaned over to Geist. "Mr. Jones 
 wishes to know whether you have a favorite compo- 
 sition." 
 
 "Certainly," he answered quickly: "Galuppi's 
 Toccata in B-sharp — the one he used to play to 
 Browning." 
 
 The author, whose acquaintance with Browning was 
 slight, smiled. "You have lost, Miss Matheson; but 
 in the intoxication of my triumph I forgive you the 
 sweet debt." 
 
 The chatter in the hall decreased. A violinist, "tun- 
 ing up," was comparing his A with that of the piano. 
 
 "How much expression he puts in that A!" re- 
 marked Geist. And turning to a young pianist jJe- 
 hind him : "That's the A you play, Leo." 
 
 Miss Winston laughed merrily, and Geist, who sat 
 beside her, rewarded her quick appreciation with a 
 comical grimace. 
 
 She sought to reconcile his boy-out-of-school man- 
 125 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 ner with his fame as viohnist and teacher of musical 
 theory. He had been described to her in a phrase: 
 "Karl Geist is not a musician, he is music." Possibly 
 that explained his manner. Music at times is unaf- 
 fectedly merry; at other times 'tis melancholy, 
 thoughtful, grave, tragic: Professor Geist had moods, 
 perhaps, to correspond. 
 
 The concert began: "Mozart, Sonata for Piano 
 and Violin, A-major." Geist gave close ear to it, nod- 
 ding approval now and then. Naturally Miss Winston 
 was less interested in the violinist than in the young 
 woman at the piano, who, in her judgment, was play- 
 ing uncommonly well. A reference to the programme 
 showed her name to be Rhoda Weathers, 
 
 "One of the most beautiful of the sonatas," Geist 
 observed, after the Allegro. "It is so simple that an 
 artist is required to play it." 
 
 "Miss Weathers plays well," ventured Hope. 
 
 "Yes ; she is the artist — or will be." The accented 
 pronoun testified his opinion of the violinist, one of 
 the Grindstone's staff. 
 
 Rhoda Weathers was a large young woman, with 
 strong features and an unusually dark complexion. 
 For one so inexperienced, she exhibited remarkable 
 composure, both in her playing and her manner. 
 
 126 
 
A CLATTER OP MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 When she rose to acknowledge, unsmilingly, the audi- 
 ence's approbation, Hope recognized the brown-eyed 
 girl who had given her the countersign, "Beethoven," 
 at the door of the Studio of the Soul. 
 
 A second member of the faculty, Mr. Victor Mab- 
 bitt, a young man with a close-cropped beard, who 
 looked like a prosperous physician, performed a C- 
 major Fantasia and Sonata. He played carelessly, 
 and embroidered the concluding chord with a ridicu- 
 lous little trill of his own invention ; after which gibe 
 at Mozart he bowed curtly and strolled off the stage. 
 
 Geist laughed: "Scrambled eggs, after teaching 
 aU day." 
 
 "I say," this from Arthur West in a stage whisper, 
 "Mabbitt's got tired expressing his soul, hasn't he.?" 
 
 "Long since," said Geist. "He is now expressing 
 his studio rent." 
 
 After Mozart was completely done for, Mr. West 
 invited the congenial little company to supper. Miss 
 Winston, for her part, demurred ; and West, wKo had 
 contrived the supper as a pretext for enjoying her 
 society, denied him during the concert, looked his dis- 
 appointment. Miss Matheson came to his rescue. 
 
 "I have something special to communicate to you, 
 Miss Winston," she said. "Do come with us." 
 
 127 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Hope, in her hesitation, looked at Geist, who Yor the 
 first time was eying her attentively. 
 
 "Better come along. Miss Winston," he urged. 
 "Miss Matheson's special communications are usually 
 interesting." 
 
 " 'Twould augment our pleasure greatly," mur- 
 mured Mr. Jones. 
 
 Thus pleasantly beset. Miss Winston yielded. 
 
 "And find Rhoda, Arthur, before she gets away," 
 Miss Matheson enjoined. "You have never met Rhoda 
 Weathers, have you, Mr. Jones ?" 
 
 The author expressed his regret archaically. 
 
 "She is Professor Geist's favorite pupil," said 
 Flora. "He says she will be a great artist some day." 
 
 "Ah, indeed," murmured Mr. Jones, twisting his 
 mustache. "I would I might hear her play that Ga- 
 luppi piece. Favorite pupil, favorite composition — a 
 feast, truly." 
 
 "Rhoda and I come from the same city — Cleve- 
 land," Miss Matheson remarked to Hope. "We have 
 a little flat not far from here, with a housekeeper to 
 look after us. You must come and take tea with us 
 some afternoon." 
 
 Mr. West returned with the information that Miss 
 Weathers had vanished immediately after her concert 
 
 128 
 
A CLATTER OF MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 number. Hope observed a troubled expression pass 
 over Flora's face. 
 
 "Suppose we go to the Palm Garden," Arthur sug- 
 gested, and, the others agreeing, the quintette repaired 
 to a neighboring hotel, where Miss Winston looked 
 in wonder on a new world, dazzling in its magnificence. 
 The cafe was one approved by society, which flocked 
 thither after theater and concert. 
 
 Being early on the scene. West selected a desirable 
 table, and invited a vote of confidence in his ability to 
 order a supper. While this was under humorous dis- 
 cussion Victor Mabbitt drifted in, and was pressed to 
 make one of the party. 
 
 "I hear, Mr. Mabbitt," said Flora, "that you are 
 going to give a concert devoted exclusively to the com- 
 positions of that new man — what's his name? — Hum- 
 mel." 
 
 "Yes," said Geist ; "he is going to marry Hummel's 
 daughter." 
 
 "He has none," returned Mabbitt, joining in the 
 laugh. 
 
 "Ah, you have inquired !" cried Geist, and the laugh 
 circled again. 
 
 The clatter of musical shop continued through the 
 supper, which was voted as successful an enterprise as 
 
 129 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Mr. West had ever engineered. The gentlemen then 
 lighted cigarettes, and the conversation turned on 
 literature — fiction — of which trade a distinguished 
 representative was present. Stanley Arthur Jones 
 held forth on the essentials of the successful novel, 
 meaning the novel which makes a wide appeal, selling 
 its tens of thousands. 
 
 "ImprimiSy lords and ladies," he declared, smiling 
 around the circle, "a plenitude of action should in- 
 form the tale ; and this brisk movement the preluding 
 chapter right fairly should bespeak. Incident must 
 never lack. An the tale do not develop incident 
 a-plenty, the writer's wit must devise it; therein lies 
 the art on't." 
 
 "Something doing all the time; that's the stuff," 
 chimed Mabbitt. The author's gesture of assent 
 obeyed "the oracular mind that made his features 
 glow." 
 
 "Again, the tale, to be of a wide appeal, should 
 harbor naught of gloom or melancholy. Nay, an you 
 except death and hurt in battle or duello, the which 
 may not be shunned, all else must be of a bright cheer- 
 ful pattern. Life is strewn with trials and harrowing 
 details: from these we seek surcease, and literature 
 happily affords it." 
 
 130 
 
A CLATTER 0/ MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 "By literature, I take it you mean romance," Geist 
 remarked, reaching for Arthur's cigarette case. 
 
 "Romance, fiction, Hterature — what you will," Mr. 
 Jones responded airily. "I speak of books that make 
 a wide appeal." Geist nodded, and the author pur- 
 sued: 
 
 "The tale being sped, the conclusion of the matter 
 should, nay must be happy: a duetto for the lovers, 
 the scene preferably an exterior, with a chime of wed- 
 ding bells heard distantly. The novelist mindful of 
 these simple rules meets his readers half-way: an his 
 tale be a good one he shall have scant reason to com- 
 plain." 
 
 "But if one is not a natural-born story-teller, like 
 you, Mr. Jones, rules will not help one much, will 
 they ?" The inquiry was Miss Matheson's. 
 
 "The whole matter, my lady, comes to this, as 
 soothly has been said me by a critic of letters : A man 
 sits down with quill and inkhorn, and covers divers 
 sheets of fair white paper; when his travail is done 
 we may know if the good Lord purposed him to be a 
 novelist." 
 
 Mr. Jones's sequent smile of complacence imported 
 that, so far as his own case was concerned, the inten- 
 tion of the good Lord was manifest. 
 
 131 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "How queerly he talks!" Hope remarked aside to 
 West. 
 
 "Like a book," said Arthur. "But he doesn't fly 
 high all the time. Very often he comes down to earth, 
 and is as simple and unaffected as you or I." 
 
 "His books are very successful, I am told." 
 
 "Oh, Jones has hit off the proper method, all right. 
 His first novel cleaned up thirty thousand dollars, or 
 something of that sort. But prosperity hasn't spoiled 
 him. He's one of the nicest chaps I know." 
 
 The minutes sped unnoted by Hope, whose radian£ 
 face expressed her enjoyment of an experience novel 
 and exciting. Not till she heard a woman at a near-by 
 table exclaim that it was almost one o'clock, was she 
 recalled to thoughts of Atwood Street. West, whose 
 eyes fed upon her face, observed the sudden expres- 
 sion of blank dismay that crossed it, and heard her 
 whisper to Miss Matheson : "What shall I do ? I have 
 missed the last car." 
 
 "That's all right," he assured her in a cheerful 
 undertone. "I'll call a carriage." 
 
 "Oh, no; please do not!" she objected hastily. 
 
 "But really, you know, Miss Winston — " 
 
 "Let me assume the responsibility, since the fault is 
 mine," Miss Matheson interposed serenely. "We were 
 
 1S2 
 
A-CLATTER OJ MUSICAL SHOP 
 
 having such a good time, I never thought of the 
 clock." 
 
 Hope, much distressed, was mentally calculating 
 the probable cost of a carriage to distant Atwood 
 Street. 
 
 "Would it be possible for you to spend the night 
 with me?" asked Flora. "There is plenty of room," 
 she added, as Hope hesitated. "Besides, that special 
 communication is still to be communicated." 
 
 No alternative suggesting itself, Hope acquiesced. 
 The ladies were escorted grandly to a cab by that im- 
 peccable cavalier, Stanley Arthur Jones, who then de- 
 parted in another cab with Arthur West. Geist and 
 Mabbitt walked away together, discussing the com- 
 parative insignificance of music as a means to afflu- 
 ence when compared with the sister art of literature. 
 
 JS3 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN WHICH TWO MAIDS LET DOWN THEIR 
 HAIR 
 
 "These initial essays which we have prefixed to the 
 historical matter contained in every book, we have de- 
 termined to be essentially necessary to this kind of 
 writing, of which we have set ourselves at the head." 
 Thus Henry Fielding, in his immortal biography of 
 Tom Jones. 
 
 Alas, dear Shade, that laws however wise, and fash- 
 ions however excellent, must change. Were not invo- 
 cations out of date, the biographer of Princess Hope 
 would be tempted to try his hand at one, as prelude 
 to this chapter. For he can call spirits from the vasty 
 deep ; as witness : 
 
 Come, Reverence! Do thou accompany me whilst 
 134. 
 
MAIDS LET DO.WN THEIR HAIR 
 
 with hesitant step I pass the door to "mysteries which 
 profane eyes never beheld." Thou knowest, Rever- 
 ence, what charter, large as Is the wind, the novelist 
 enjoys : thou knowest, too, how oft he hath abused his 
 liberty, lacking thy companionship; how, Asmodeus- 
 wise, he hath ravaged privacy, and pitilessly hath ex- 
 posed his heroine to chaste and ribald gaze alike, ca- 
 pering In her chamber most outrageously. Since, 
 then, I must set foot in virgin's sanctuary, do thou, 
 sweet Reverence, take me by the hand and guide me 
 to the chamber's deepest shadow. Bid me to be mind- 
 ful of my privilege, that thence I may depart with un- 
 flushed cheeks and level gaze. 
 
 And thou. Discretion, do thou go with me also ; for, 
 after Reverence, I have need of thee. And say not, 
 "We should have earlier come," or "Delay yet an 
 hour." For know, Discretion, that we may not tarry, 
 but must enter now, since matter pertinent to our his- 
 tory Is going forward. 
 
 And thou. Good Taste, sister to Discretion, with- 
 out whose bland admonishments so many are be- 
 trayed to grievous errors and offenses, do thou, too, 
 follow In. For what Is Reverence without thee, or what 
 Discretion ? 
 
 "But will they come when you do call for them?** 
 135 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The living-room is lighted by an open wood-fire, 
 burning lazily. Its gleams play on walls and ceiling, 
 and dimly body forth the apartment's furnishings — 
 piano, bookshelves, rugs and pictures. In a far cor- 
 ner is a divan, on which a bed has been -prepared 
 against the slumbers of an unexpected guest. 
 
 Two maids in dishabille are seated on a tiger's skin 
 before the fire, presenting, in the flashes of its poor 
 lightning, a charming picture, whose lovely lines are 
 tantalizingly obscured and broken by the impish, 
 dancing shadows. 
 
 When maidens twain unloop their hair and ply the 
 comb in company, a certain degree of intimacy is im- 
 plied; for when the locks are down secrets are out; 
 with the shaking free of tresses come doivn the bar- 
 riers of reserve, and confidences arrow thick and fast. 
 Intimacy is implied ; but intimacy does not always wait 
 on years' or even months' acquaintance : it may be, it 
 frequently is, a matter of first sight, like love. These 
 mushroom intimacies are common among women, 
 blessed with intuitions: lacking them, man keeps his 
 guard up, made wary by experience. 
 
 When the gold tresses and the brown were dropped, 
 Miss Matheson unfolded her "special communica- 
 tion," 
 
 136 
 
MAIDS LET DOAVN THEIR HAIR 
 
 "Mrs. Addison West is to give a musicale, to intro- 
 duce Mar j one Dodd, a singing friend from Buffalo. 
 I am to help Mrs. West receive, as I very often do, 
 and she would like to have you assist at the refresh- 
 ment table. You will receive her more formal invita- 
 tion to the musicale to-morrow." 
 
 "Mercy! how could I?" Hope exclaimed. "I have 
 nothing to wear." 
 
 "Spoken like a true daughter of Eve, and as usual 
 the objection is trivial. It is not to be a dress affair, 
 though, of course, nothing can prevent some women 
 from putting on full regalia. Any simple gown will 
 do ; some clinging black stuff, as the novelists say." 
 
 "Mrs. West is very kind; but why should she ask 
 me to her house .f^" 
 
 "For two reasons : one, pretty girls are valuable as 
 decorations ; two, Mr. Arthur West probably put his 
 mother up to it. Arthur admires you exceedingly, as 
 of course you don't know, and is prepared to lose his 
 wits over you with the slightest encouragement, or 
 without it." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Matheson !" 
 
 "Please anticipate our better acquaintance and call 
 me Flora. Don't you know there are some people you 
 seem to have known a long, long time?" 
 
 137 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Yes," agreed Hope, recalling a tall, slender young 
 man, and then resolutely excluding him from her 
 thoughts. 
 
 "I should not have betrayed Arthur's flutters, for 
 he is just the nicest boy. Besides, it is wrong to make 
 light of a hopeless passion. But seriously," Flora 
 dropped the comb in her lap, "I advise you to accept 
 Mrs. West's invitation, if you can. You will meet a 
 lot of the musical set, and a good many of them are 
 worth knowing. They all go to Mrs. West's because 
 she has good things to cat, and Pa West's cigars and 
 whisky are like Caesar's wife, and a good deal jollier." 
 
 "I suppose I might manage," said Hope, reflect- 
 ively. (Her slender means included a sum of money 
 for a new gown, Mother Winston having suggested 
 that it be fashioned in the city, rather than in Swift- 
 water. ) "What should I have to do at the musicale ?" 
 
 "Oh, just assume a pleasant expression and hand 
 out coffee and salad to hungry artists and music- 
 lovers. That won't come till eleven p'clock or so; 
 Marjorie Dodd has to sing first, and there will be 
 other music. I have the hardest stunt, going around 
 newspaper offices to-morrow, trying to persuade the 
 critics that this is a musical affair, not a social func- 
 tion. I expect an awful wrestle with Churchill Gray." 
 
 138 
 
MAIDS LET Dp^VN THEIR HAIR 
 
 "He will say something unpleasant, no doubt," ob- 
 served Hope, her wounds still smarting. 
 
 "Oh, no; he'll just grin in the most aggravating 
 manner and remark : *You will find the society editor 
 over in that corner. Miss Matheson.' " 
 
 "Then he'll say it unpleasantly, and you will feel 
 that you hate him." 
 
 "Nonsense! Try to hate Churchill Gray, and see 
 how you come out: I've tried it." Her voice was 
 reminiscent of defeat. "But I shall be brave in Mi- 
 nerva West's cause ; if necessary I'll resort to tears. 
 Suppose you make the rounds with me; the critics 
 can't resist two beautiful damsels." 
 
 "Excepting Mr. Gray." 
 
 "What makes you think he would hold out?" asked 
 Flora curiously. "Do you know him?" 
 
 "I have met him. He impressed me as being rather 
 unmanageable ; a little opinionated — don't you think ?" 
 
 "He's as stubborn as a mule, and just as easy to 
 manage; but he's the loveliest man in the world. 
 Don't you think he's beautiful?'^ 
 
 "He is very good-looking," Hope answered cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 "Would you say a Greek god was good-looking?" 
 
 "I never saw one." 
 
 139 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "There is a head in the Art IMuseum that is just 
 like Churchill's." 
 
 Recalling Madame Jesurin's exclamation, "I love 
 Greek gods !" Hope shook her hair over her face to 
 hide a smile. 
 
 "There is a good deal of the marble about Mr. 
 Gray, I fancy," she said. "I never met anybody quite 
 so cool." 
 
 "Oh, that's just his repose; I wish I had some of it. 
 But don't imagine that Churchill Gray is a cold prop- 
 osition. Set fire to him and he'll bum Hke a varnish 
 factory." 
 
 Hope laughed outright, and an interval of silence 
 followed, during which both maids plied their brushes 
 industriously. Then Hope inquired : 
 
 "Doesn't Mr. Gray write on other subjects besides 
 music .^ I picked out one or two things in the Post 
 that sounded like him." 
 
 "Oh, dear, yes ; editorials, book reviews, and I don't 
 know what else. It's a shame the way they make liim 
 work." 
 
 "He must get. a very large salary." 
 
 "Just about enough to keep Arthur West in cig- 
 arettes," Flora replied resentfully. "No; Churchill 
 is poor. It's his own fault." 
 
 140 
 
MAIDS LET DO^PeN THEIR HAIR 
 
 "Poor Mr. Gray 1" Hope thought. "That is why 
 he didn't buy that picture of Brahms." 
 
 "I shouldn't say his own faulty but his own choice,^* 
 Flora went on. "Poor boy . . ." She broke off. 
 "I ought not to speak of it ; he would be angry if he 
 knew." 
 
 "Then don't — dear." Hope leaned over and pressed 
 Flora's hand. 
 
 "No; I will tell you a fairy story instead," said 
 Flora, brightening. "Once upon a time there was a 
 Prince. His parents were well-to-do, as princes' par- 
 ents ought to be; and when he was young — ^he isn't 
 old yet — they sent him out to see the world. He trav- 
 eled several years, and lived much in the capitals of 
 Europe, devoting himself to music and the other arts. 
 Music was his favorite, and he heard and studied the 
 things worth while, and came to know the great men 
 personally, forming friendships with many of them. 
 
 "When his father died, and he returned to his native 
 city, the Prince cast his eye upon a certain Damozel, 
 a daughter of affluence. Her hair was light and 
 curly, giving thereby the impression of abundance; 
 her eyes were blue, her eyebrows finely arched, showing 
 a trivial character; complexion good, chin slightly 
 pointed." 
 
 141 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Flora turned her face from the firelight, but Hope 
 saw that it was serious and kind. 
 
 "The Damozel interested the Prince, though she had 
 little to recommend her. She was assuredly not an 
 intellectual heavy-weight, though she had, and has, 
 a clever way of appearing intelligent by knowing the 
 last word on a topic, if not the first, and not attempt- 
 ing to swim when the water gets too deep. But she 
 was pictorial ; and next to music the Prince was fond 
 of pictures. To this particular picture he gave a 
 great deal of attention, and people said — ^but you 
 know what people say. 
 
 "Things went wrong. The Damozel's parents be- 
 ing also dead, the estate was divided between son and 
 daughter. The boy, a visionary youth, with schemes 
 too big for his head, involved his friend, the Prince, 
 in a reckless business venture, and their combined for- 
 tune was swept away. The Damozel wished to repair 
 the disaster to the Prince, and offered him her patri- 
 mony. He refused it (he is frightfully proud), but 
 oh, so sweetly and tenderly that the Damozel wept her 
 eyes out ; for she could not insist, you see, because — 
 because acceptance might — might imply — sentiments 
 as yet unexpressed." 
 
 Hope put her arms about the other's waist. 
 142 
 
MAIDS LET DCrVVN THEIR HAIR 
 
 " 'Little remains to be told,' " quoted Flora, strok- 
 ing the brown head, "The Prince departed for the 
 metropolis, to enter journalism, and after many days 
 the Damozel followed liim, to express her soul in mu- 
 sic. She and the Prince are still the best of friends ; 
 but they never speak of what was or what might have 
 been." 
 
 Hope tightened her arms, and laid her cheek against 
 Flora's bare shoulder. "The Prince will come some 
 day," she whispered. 
 
 "I don't know why he should. If one may admire 
 a favorite picture in a gallery, why should one wish 
 to have it in one's house, where one would worry con- 
 stantly over it?" 
 
 "Don't be cynical, dear." 
 
 "Besides, Churchill has become a confirmed woman- 
 shunner. Collective womankind, he says, distresses 
 him, and he gives it none of his society because the 
 price he pays for what he receives is too high.'* 
 
 "That is selfish and egotistical." 
 
 "I dare say. But he is good enough to make an 
 exception of my case." 
 
 "Beautiful pictures are the exception," said Hope. 
 
 Flora kissed her cheek. "How can you expect a 
 man with brains to spend his time on girls, present 
 
 143 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 company not excepted? I shouldn't if I were a man — 
 with brains." 
 
 "Still, I have read that they do." 
 
 "Oh, you have read that they do! You will learn 
 it at first hand. But don't let them go to your head, 
 dear; keep them at your feet." 
 
 "That argues want of intellect." 
 
 "On whose part.'^" 
 
 "Take it either way." 
 
 **Well, you'll find Arthur West at your feet, first, 
 last and all the time." 
 
 "I suppose I may take that either way." 
 
 Flora laughed mischievously. "I warn you that 
 Arthur is a good catch," she said. "He will have an 
 ocean of money some day, and he is an unspoiled child 
 of fortune; his disposition is absolutely perfect. 
 When you first meet him he gives you the impression 
 of being a bit of a clown, but that is only efi^erves- 
 cence." 
 
 "Then he will not be dependent on his voice for a 
 livelihood.?" 
 
 "Fortunately not." 
 
 "Yet he takes his voice very seriously." 
 
 "As seriously as another takes the collecting of 
 stamps or candlesticks. It's a harmless fad." 
 
 144 
 
MAIDS LET DOrWN THEIR HAIR 
 
 A little Swiss clock chimed two, and Flora started. 
 
 "Why, where can Rhoda be?" she exclaimed. "I 
 had completely forgotten the child." 
 
 "Perhaps she has fallen upon some such adventure 
 as myself," Hope suggested. 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 Miss Matheson stirred the fire, and Hope began to 
 braid her hair. 
 
 "I don't know whether you will like Rhoda," said 
 Flora meditatively. "She is a queer girl, and has ab- 
 solutely no intimates, unless I except myself. Even 
 I can make little of her. Still, you and Rhoda are 
 such opposites, you may get along together famously. 
 But it must be long past your bedtime." Flora rose. 
 "Sleep as late as you please. Molly, the housekeeper, 
 is hardened to my erratic hours. Good night." 
 
 Left alone, Hope continued by the fire, warming 
 the lace-trimmed and beribboned night-dress laid out 
 for her, and meditating the story of the Prince and 
 the Damozel. Her heart went out to the love-lorn 
 maid. And yet how lightly she had sped the tale : did 
 she love the Prince so very deeply? The end of the 
 story could not have been so long ago. The end of 
 the story? It was not yet ended, except for Princess 
 Hope : her little romance was over. 
 
 145 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 She pursued her meditations among the bedclothes. 
 
 What romantic nonsense her mind had been running 
 on ! Pray, what could she have ever been to^ Churchill 
 Gray? She would not interest him in the least. His 
 sneering reference to feminine society was of a piece 
 with his cutting remarks concerning music students, 
 which still rankled. 
 
 Him banished, her thoughts should be concentrated 
 in her music, never again to be withdrawn. 
 
 Through the partly-opened window came the sound 
 of carriage wheels, stopping suddenly. What a pleas- 
 ant way to travel about the city! The trolley-cars 
 which Hope was forced to use carried such ill-smelling 
 peoplew 
 
 The click of a key turning a lock brought her head 
 up from the pillow. She heard a door shut softly, a 
 rustle of skirts; then Flora's voice asking: "Is that 
 you, Rhoda, dear.?" 
 
 A whispered colloquy, and the house was still. 
 Hope fell asleep. 
 
 146 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 It lacked a few minutes to the closing time of the 
 Posfs noon edition. The city editor, a telephone re- 
 ceiver in each hand, was communicating with his far- 
 flung reportorial line, betweenwhiles snapping out in- 
 structions to the men about him. Copy readers were 
 struggling with refractory head-lines and calling im- 
 patiently for proofs. Reporters, bent over pad or 
 typewriter, were setting down with nervous fingers a 
 last few phrases of inconsequence. Nimble copy-boys 
 in buttons scrambled and slid from desk to desk, gath- 
 ering up the flying leaves. In the thick of it stood 
 the foreman of the composing-room, awful in war- 
 paint, masking volcanic temper with majestic calm. 
 
 147 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 One grimy hand clutched a mass of proofs and copy, 
 the other was raised dramatically, palm outward, 
 while from his ink-smeared lips went forth the familiar 
 adhortation : "Hold her down ! Hold her down !" to 
 which nobody paid the slightest attention. 
 
 Serene amid the wrecks of copy and the crush of 
 news, the managing editor smoked a cigarette and 
 looked thoughtfully out of the window. One would 
 have said he meditated some momentous question of 
 journalistic policy: actually he was watching a pair 
 of pretty girls, waiting on the far side of the street 
 for a break in the procession of drays and street-cars. 
 
 Two other men in the spacious unpartitioned room 
 were tranquil-tempered. The exchange editor clipped 
 with deliberate shears. Mr. Churchill Gray, his con- 
 tributions to the editorial page despatched, was open- 
 ing his mail, most of which was addressed : "Musical 
 Editor, the Post,'^ 
 
 The first communication examined was an announce- 
 ment of the forthcoming appearance of a local vio- 
 linist of ordinary attainments, whom the anonymous 
 writer credited with "masterly technic, superb tone 
 production, and poetic insight." 
 
 "What more could one say of Ysaye?" remarked 
 Gray to himself, jotting down a brief memorandum 
 
 148 
 
THE CRITIC TO THE ''POST" 
 
 /^ 
 
 and tossing the type-written slip into the waste- 
 basket. 
 
 The second communication contained the vital in- 
 formation that Mr. Worthington Squeers, the emi- 
 nent pianist and instructor, had changed his studio 
 from No. 1701 Beaux Arts Temple to No. 1720. 
 
 The Post was further informed that M. Gaston 
 Prunette, of the French Opera (stranded, M'sieurs I 
 mon DieUy was it not terreeble!), had consented to 
 remain in the city, to equip for grand opera a limited 
 number of exceptionally talented pupils; that Miss 
 Edgarda Bing had been engaged as solo soprano for 
 the music festival at Wappinger's Falls, New York; 
 that the Post had neglected to review Miss Adele 
 Maverick's Thursday night concert — with a veiled 
 suggestion that the Post critic was party to a conspi- 
 racy to suppress Miss Maverick, a feat impossible of 
 accomplishment, let me assure you ; — with other mat- 
 ter of equal moment. 
 
 The last envelope held an invitation to Mrs. Addison 
 West's musicale. This followed into the waste-basket, 
 and the critic to the Post began to cut the leaves of a 
 new book waiting review. 
 
 "Two ladies to see you, Mr. Gray," a copy-boy an- 
 nounced. "Swell lookers." 
 
 149 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Indeed !" said Gray. "Is that your excuse, Jimmy, 
 for not finding out what their business is ?" 
 
 "I did ask 'em, Mr. Gray, an' de swellest girl said 
 it was a matter of de utmost importance." 
 
 "Well, well !" he replied. "Fetch a couple of chairs, 
 Jimmyj and then escort the swell lookers here in your 
 best style." 
 
 Gray went on cutting the leaves of his book, but at 
 sight of Miss Matheson and Miss Winston he rose 
 quickly, and greeted them with unfeigned pleasure. 
 Miss Winston bowed, somewhat distantly, and drew 
 back a little way the chair which Jimmy had placed 
 for her, leaving Flora to unfold the purpose of the 
 visit. 
 
 The managing editor turned his thoughtful gaze 
 in the direction of the music desk; the reporters 
 crooked their necks ; the exchange editor stilled his 
 shears : only the city editor was oblivious to the radi- 
 ance in the room. 
 
 "Something of the utmost importance, I am in- 
 formed," said Gray. 
 
 Flora Matheson leaned forward, with an arm on his 
 desk. 
 
 "Nothing short of a sensation, Mr. Churchill Gray. 
 The musical world will be stirred from center to cir- 
 
 150 
 
THE CRITIC TO THE ''POST" 
 
 /-■ 
 
 cumference. Mrs. Addison West is — to — give — a — 
 musicale !" 
 
 "Ahr 
 
 Gray's eyes wandered to the waste-basket. Flora, 
 looking too, perceived the cause of his abstraction. 
 Their eyes met, his quietly mirthful, hers flashing with 
 pretended indignation. 
 
 "Cruel man!" She fished up Mrs. West's invita- 
 tion. "But you shall not escape so easily. Thank 
 you for the chair, Churchill: I shall sit in it till you 
 promise to mention the musicale in next Saturday's 
 music notes. No ; don't refer to the society editor ; I 
 refuse to see her. In the music notes, or nowhere, I 
 assure you." 
 
 "Perhaps we can manage it," Gray replied smooth- 
 ly, opening a memorandum book. 
 
 "Thank you, Churchill." Flora beamed. 
 
 "Let us see : I shall have a third of a column Satur- 
 day for the music notes, half of which space I had 
 thought to devote to a consideration of next week's 
 Herschel concert — a rather important programme, as 
 Ysaye is to play. Then there is Victor Mabbitt's all- 
 Hummel concert, worth ten or a dozen lines; three 
 other concerts of more or less significance, and an in- 
 teresting and hitherto unpublished anecdote about 
 
 151 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Brahms. Now, in order to make room for Mrs. West's 
 social affair, which would you suggest that I cut — the 
 Symphony concert or the Brahms anecdote.?" 
 
 Flora's spirits fell. "Please, Churchill ! Can't you 
 squeeze in just a line or two?" 
 
 "The Post does not use rubber type, Miss Mathe- 
 son." 
 
 She turned to Hope : "Transfix this obstinate man 
 with a smile." 
 
 Miss Winston appeared faintly amused. 
 
 "Qh, you will have to do better than that," said 
 Flora. "Must I resort to tears ?" 
 
 "They would be wasted, I think," said Hope. "Mr. 
 Gray moves in a mysterious way . . ." She 
 looked out of the window. 
 
 From Gray the smile sardonic. 
 
 "I know that grin," said Flora in despair. "The 
 case is hopeless. But promise me one thing, Churchill, 
 and I'll forgive you — and take you to luncheon with 
 us.'' 
 
 "I am listening. Miss Matheson." 
 
 "With deaf ears. Well, come to Mrs. West's musi- 
 cale, or social affair, and personally write something 
 nice about it. I don't care where you put it — in the 
 religious column, if you wish." 
 
 152 
 
Please, Churchill ! Just a line or two ! ' ' Page ij2 
 
THE CRITIC ;rO THE '^POST" 
 
 "Thank you ; I shall consider the invitation. What 
 is it all about?" 
 
 "Why, you heartless wretch ! You didn't even read 
 it!" She smoothed out the crumpled invitation res- 
 cued from the basket. " *To introduce Miss Marjorie 
 Dodd, of Cleveland.' " 
 
 "In a group of Mrs. West's songs, I suppose." 
 
 "I suppose. Listen to them, Churchill, and you 
 shall be rewarded. Miss Winston will give you a cup 
 of coffee with her own fair hands, and perhaps, if you 
 are good, a plateful of salad." 
 
 "Then the invitation is already accepted." He 
 glanced at Miss Winston, whose glove suddenly re- 
 quired fastening. 
 
 "Will you come and lunch with us now ?" 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 Gray closed his desk, and accompanied the young 
 women to a near-by cafe. 
 
 "I don't mind confessing now,^^ Flora remarked to 
 Hope, "that I asked the lesser favor first. I did think 
 I might induce Mr. Gray to squeeze a line about Mrs. 
 West's function into his fearfully-important music 
 notes, but I did not dare to hope I might persuade him 
 actually to attend the musicale. It was the promise 
 of the cup of coffee, was it not, Churchill .?" 
 
 153 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Without doubt." He looked smilingly at Hope, 
 
 whose eyes this time met the hazel eyes steadily and 
 
 coolly. 
 
 He thought : "She has not yet forgiven me." 
 
 She thought: "It would be impossible to remain 
 
 angry with him *very long." 
 
 "I haven't seen you to talk to since you got back 
 
 from the woods," said Flora. "You don't go out so- 
 cially at all, do you V^ 
 
 "I have no social connections. Miss Matheson." 
 "That's a fib. I can name a dozen drawing-rooms 
 
 that would more than welcome you." 
 
 "For the advertising I might repay them with," 
 
 Gray returned dryly. "Persons in my position are 
 
 courted for no other purpose. I have no illusions on 
 
 that subject." 
 
 "You wrong your friends, I am sure." 
 "Infrequently I may ; in the majority of cases I do 
 
 not. The rule, not the exception, must be my guide." 
 "Mrs. Maybury is one of the exceptions." 
 "Naturally. She is not a professional musician, 
 
 nor a society dame. I can be of no advertising value 
 
 to her." 
 
 Miss Matheson buttered a bit of bread. "That is 
 
 your Mrs. Maybury," she said to Hope. 
 
 154. 
 
THE CRITIC T-O THE *'POST" 
 
 "You are acquainted with Mrs. Maybury, Miss 
 Winston?" Gray inquired. 
 
 "Very slightly," she replied. 
 
 Flora proceeded to enlighten him, ignoring Hope's 
 protest. "It is quite a story. Mrs. Maybury met 
 Miss Winston in — " 
 
 "The provinces," Hope supplied. 
 
 "I hate that word provinces," Flora declared. 
 "There is always a cheap sneer in it." 
 
 "I am waiting for the story," said Gray. 
 
 "Mrs. Maybury became interested in Miss Win- 
 ston — naturally, and urged her to come to the city. 
 And she sent you some music, did she not-f^" 
 
 "Bach and Beethoven and Czemy — a little of each : 
 that is all I know of music, not even the A, B, C — only 
 the B, C." 
 
 Miss Matheson was reminded of the man who 
 bought an encyclopedia, one volume at a time. "You 
 are very wise as far as you go." 
 
 "A good start, at all events," said Gray. 
 
 "And Miss Winston — this will be sure to interest 
 you, Churchill — Miss Winston wept aloud when Mrs. 
 Maybury played a Brahms Rhapsody for her. That 
 shows the Brahms temperament, doesn't it?" 
 
 "The evidence is strongly circumstantial." 
 155 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Any one who gets hysterical over Brahms must 
 have the Brahms temperament," Flora insisted. "I'm 
 sure / haven't." 
 
 "Please, Flora !" pleaded Hope. 
 
 "I remember being swept off my feet by the rhap- 
 sodies," said Gray. 
 
 Sensing his growing interest in her, and perversely 
 resolved not to encourage it, Hope left the topic tan- 
 gentially. 
 
 "Won't you tell me something about your woods .?" 
 she besought him. "Do you go to them every year.'"' 
 
 "I hope to." 
 
 He spoke of an inland voyage he had made the 
 summer past — a hundred miles or more; threading 
 the waterways of the wilderness in a canoe, bearing 
 the vessel on his shoulders from lake to lake, across 
 the carries. He had set out, he said, to find a certain 
 little lake; but he had missed it after all his toil, his 
 progress barred by a tamarack swamp which seemed 
 to have no bounds — a swamp ten miles across, as he 
 afterward learned. Next year he meant to approach 
 the lake by a more promising route. 
 
 "All that work just to look at a little pond that 
 hardly shows on the map," said Flora, humoring the 
 folly of it with a smile. 
 
 156 
 
THE CRITIC'^TO THE "POST" 
 
 "And you were all alone !" said Hope, her eyes glis- 
 tening. 
 
 He had spoken simply, but graphically, inspired 
 by his subject; and in imagination she had accompa- 
 nied him — silently, aloofly, as some spirit of the wood. 
 She had helped him lift the canoe over the stones at the 
 landing-places, and drop it gently at the carry's end. 
 She had put forth with him upon strange waters, 
 seated at the vessel's bow, first to glimpse the vistas 
 of the river, or the new lake glory that the headland 
 screened. She had sat by his camp-fire, sympathet- 
 ically silent, and had watched the rose-light die and 
 the stars quiver forth. She had stood at his side 
 when he halted on the shore of the great swamp, and 
 peered with him into the green gloom. . . . 
 
 "Has your lake a name.^^" she asked him. 
 
 "Not as yet," said Gray. "Will you suggest one.?" 
 
 "The Lake of Dreams," she offered, and Flora, ap- 
 proving, added : "May they all come true." 
 
 The girls parted from Gray at the cafe door. He 
 watched them till they melted in the stream of pedes- 
 trians; then he turned officeward with the remark: 
 "So Leith Maybury is interested in Miss Winston! 
 She must be the right sort." 
 
 157 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Said Flora to her companion : "Mrs. West has tried 
 to land Mr. Gray half a dozen times, and she has to 
 thank you for netting him at last." 
 
 Miss Winston disclaimed rosily a share in Mrs. 
 West's success, which, she intimated, was far from 
 assured. 
 
 "Oh, he'll come," said Flora confidently. "One can 
 see with half an eye that you have interested him." 
 
 "Absurd ! And I haven't the least wish to." 
 
 The emphatic note amused, while it slightly mysti- 
 fied Miss Matheson. "That would account for it 
 if there were no other reasons," she smiled. 
 
 Hope shifted the talk to a safer, if less interesting 
 subject. "Whither now.?" she asked. "What citadels 
 of criticism remain to be stormed.'^" 
 
 "The bluffs of the Evening Telegraph. We shall 
 carry them with a rush." 
 
 The prediction was fulfilled, and, the campaign 
 over, the fair invaders returned to their homes. 
 
 That afternoon Hope despatched a note to Mrs. 
 Maybury, informing her that she had made the great 
 venture, and requesting her to indicate a day when it 
 would be convenient to receive Miss Winston in person. 
 
 158 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE CABOCHON EMERALD AGAIN 
 
 At the end of her second week of whirling with the 
 Grindstone, Miss Winston took an account of musical 
 stock. The showing was not especially encouraging. 
 
 Looking over her schedule of lessons, somewhat 
 modified and expanded, she admitted she was getting 
 a great deal of pork for her shilling ; and she was not 
 prepared to criticize the quahty of the pork: it was 
 highly recommended, and in prodigious demand. Still, 
 judging by her one means of comparison, — her Bach 
 and Czemy, which she practised quite independently 
 of conservatory methods, — something was amiss. For 
 example, one Czerny study, with the appalling metro- 
 nome mark of 138, she had succeeded, when in Swift- 
 
 159 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 water, in working up to' 120 ; now she was many 
 notches below that tempO'. If the reader does nat com- 
 prehend how discouraging this was, he is advised to 
 borrow a metronome and look into the matter for him- 
 self. 
 
 Not to set foot in the dreary wilderness of dogma 
 (from which Heaven preserve us!) it may be said, 
 witliout fear of contradiction, except from persons 
 with uncommonly weird methods, that the essentials of 
 pianoforte technic are strong fingers and a loose wrist. 
 Lacking these, one can not go far ; or rather, one can 
 go so far and no farther. (Was it Moscheles that 
 failed of greatness because of inflexible wrist? No 
 matter.) Lacking these, one can not acquire in per- 
 fection that larger technic, not of the fingers, which 
 distinguishes the artist from the garden variety of 
 concert pianist. 
 
 Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty of wrist. 
 This liberty, natural in Hope's case (genius Is irritat- 
 ing to those of us that must toil for results), she felt 
 she was losing: her fingers were not so fleet; half an 
 hour's practice tired them. She felt, too, slight pangs 
 of musical indigestion — a disease common enough, 
 though not so common as literary indigestion. 
 
 Her studies interested her: the finger callisthenics, 
 160 
 
THE CABOGHON EMERALD 
 
 and the various methods for acquiring arm power and 
 volume of tone, were scientifically plausible ; Professor 
 Van Wart was saturating her with the spirit of the 
 masters; the dehghtful Dudelsack dropped occasion- 
 ally a gem that was not pure paste. And yet with it 
 all she felt the lack of something — just what, she did 
 not know. 
 
 Having promised to refer to Doctor Erdmann any 
 perplexities that might arise, she sought the president 
 of the Colossus and laid the matter before him. He 
 listened attentively, providing an obligato of "Yes- 
 yes" ; and when she paused, unable definitely to form- 
 ulate her problem, he said : 
 
 "My dear Miss Winston, let me counsel patience. 
 I have inquired of your instructors, and they report 
 satisfactory progress. The only criticism comes from 
 Mrs. Adams, who finds your piano playing — er — a 
 little cold, a little cold." 
 
 "I hope I shall outgrow that," Miss Winston mur- 
 mured. 
 
 "Yes-yes — of course : it is not a temperamental de- 
 fect. Mrs. Adams remarked — jestingly, of course — 
 that you needed — er — an affair of the heart." He 
 winged the arrow with a smile. 
 
 "Indeed?" said Hope, flushing. "It seems to me, 
 161 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Doctor Erdmann, that I need technic more than any- 
 thing else. My fingers — " 
 
 "Yes-yes ; quite right. Technic first, passion after- 
 ward. That will come, that will come. . . . Well, 
 Miss Winston, tell me frankly what your wishes are, 
 and how I may aid you." 
 
 "I hardly know. But I feel that I am not getting 
 on so fast as I ought to — or should like to." 
 
 "Hmh!" Doctor Erdmann joined his finger-tips 
 and put on a thoughtful look. "Class work is slow, 
 Miss Winston; slow, I mean, as compared to private 
 instruction, where much more time can be given ; and 
 private instruction is expensive." 
 
 "Yes; I suppose so — of course it must be." She 
 realized she had no tangible ground for complaint. 
 "I am not finding fault, Doctor Erdmann; please do 
 not think that. Of course I do not expect private in- 
 struction. Only — you see — I am anxious to get on; 
 I have a long road to go. Perhaps if I had fewer 
 studies — " 
 
 "As I have said," the president of the Colossus 
 pursued, "our motto is. Encourage talent at any cost, 
 at any cost: let no soul go unexpressed. But, of 
 course, there are limits, there are limits; you under- 
 stand that. What studies especially interest you.'^" 
 
 162 
 
THE CABOOHON EMERALD 
 
 "Piano and theory," was Hope's prompt reply. 
 
 "Professor Geist, our chief instructor in theory, 
 charges six dollars the hour. Our best piano instruct- 
 ors ask as much, or more." 
 
 Hope felt as a child might that had begged for the 
 moon and had been gently reproved. 
 
 "However," Doctor Erdmann leaned back in his 
 chair — "however. Miss Winston, I have become per- 
 sonally interested in your artistic success, and the 
 item of expense shall not stand in the way." 
 
 She looked up swiftly, and he banked the fire of his 
 eyes. 
 
 "As to piano, Mrs. Adams will do for the present ; 
 later we shall make a change. As to theory, which 
 you properly place second in importance, what do you 
 say — er — ^to Professor Geist?" His eyes twinkled. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor Erdmann !" 
 
 He smiled indulgently, resisting an impulse to pat 
 her cheek, 
 
 "Might I study with Professor Geist?" 
 
 "That is for Professor Geist to answer. Applica- 
 tion must be made to him." 
 
 "But you said that . . . Professor Geist 
 charges , . ." 
 
 "I will arrange that in the office. Miss Winston. In 
 163 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 talking with Professor Geist it will not be necessary to 
 allude to finances. That shall be a little secret between 
 you and me. In the cause of Art — " He finished the 
 sentence with a gesture that implied, "Hang the ex- 
 pense !" 
 
 "I can not find words to thank you, Doctor Erd- 
 mann." Hope was quite overcome with gratitude. 
 "But I will study hard, very hard, and I hope you will 
 not be disappointed in me." 
 
 "I hope not, Miss Winston," he echoed fervently ; 
 "and I do not think I shall. You have youth, beauty, 
 talent — these are the great things ; the rest will fol- 
 low." 
 
 Hope rose precipitately, pricked by the compliment 
 and the glance accompanying it. "Thank you again. 
 Doctor Erdmann. I shall apply to Professor Geist at 
 once. Good morning." 
 
 "Good morning, my dear Miss Winston. Let me 
 know frequently how you get on. Come in at any 
 time, at any time. And — don't forget our little 
 secret." 
 
 She assured him she should not, and departed in 
 high spirits. 
 
 "Doctor Erdmann is a dear," she said to herself; 
 "only I wish he wouldn't make remarks about my 
 
 164 
 
% 
 
 
 ** That shall be a little secret between you and me '* Page 164 
 
THE CABOG-HON EMERALD 
 
 looks. He must have confidence in me, and yet I do 
 not know why he should. Perhaps it is because I take 
 music seriously, and am not studying merely to be- 
 come a teacher." 
 
 Madame Jesurin was promptly informed of the 
 good fortune, Hope forgetting until the words were 
 out that Doctor Erdmann had said it should be a little 
 secret between them. Madame was vocal in the good 
 man's praise. Such a thoughtful, considerate gentle- 
 man ! Once he had sent her a German pupil. Every- 
 body spoke highly of him. He was very popular. 
 
 The next morning brought another pleasant sur- 
 prise. The postman left a square envelope containing 
 a ticket for that evening's Symphony concert. There 
 was no other inclosure, except a sheet of blank paper 
 in which the ticket was folded. The address, simply 
 "Miss Winston, No. 69 Atwood Street," was type- 
 written. 
 
 Who could have sent it.'* She peeped into the en- 
 velope to make certain she had extracted all the con- 
 tents. There was only the blank slip of paper and 
 the bit of yellow pasteboard calling for a seat in the 
 parquet of Music Hall — J 90. Who could have 
 sent it.? 
 
 Her mind ran the small circle of her acquaintance, 
 165 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 stopping, on the second round, at Doctor Erdmann. 
 Was this a delicate way of further assisting her? In 
 spite of Mr. Churchill Gray's fling at conservatories, 
 the president of the Colossus no doubt appreciated 
 the value of the Herschel concerts to a young woman 
 seriously pursuing the study of music. 
 
 Madame Jesurin, coming in to borrow a cup of su- 
 gar, found her with the ticket in her hand. 
 
 "Eil EiP' cried Madame, when informed of the mys- 
 terious gift. "The fairies have sent it." 
 
 "Then I wish they had sent two, so you might have 
 shared in the good fortune." 
 
 Madame laughed, and declared that fairies gave 
 nothing to grown-ups except children. 
 
 "But I, too, have some good luck to tell of," she 
 said. "You remember, Liebchen, the interesting young 
 man with the curling hair, that we met at the concert 
 —Mr. West?" 
 
 Oh, yes; Hope recalled him distinctly; a pleasant- 
 spoken young gentleman. 
 
 "He has arranged to take both French and German 
 lessons." 
 
 Why, how delightful ! So Mr. West was interested 
 in languages. Of course ; he was a singer. 
 
 Gewiss, Private lessons. And he did not even ask 
 166 
 
THE CABOCHON EMERALD 
 
 Madame's fee. Such a liberal person — would there 
 were more like him. But he had inquired as to her 
 method of instruction, and was good enough to praise 
 it highly, rating it above all others he had knowledge 
 of. He was to come Tuesday and Friday evenings. 
 
 Hope smiled, and remarked that it was unfortunate 
 Madame did not teach five other languages : Mr. West 
 might then call every evening in the week. 
 
 Of the ways and wiles of the artful creature Man, 
 Miss Winston had no experience ; and but for the sis- 
 terly hint conveyed to her by that wise virgin, Flora 
 Matheson, she might not have suspected a connection 
 between Mr. Arthur West's frank pleasure in her so- 
 ciety and his sudden interest in foreign languages. 
 But after Flora's blunt intimation of the young gen- 
 tleman's sentiments she could scarcely doubt that he 
 had taken up French and German partly, at least, that 
 he might be near her, that his opportunities of seeing 
 her and talking with her might be larger. 
 
 There may be dismal persons so constituted as to 
 receive with indifference an intimation that he or she 
 has inspired the sentiment of love in the breast of some 
 member of the opposite sex ; but you and I are not of 
 this hopeless minority, nor would we wish to be. True, 
 the discovery may kindle no responsive flame ; but our 
 
 167 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 interest in the fortunate man or maid is increased ten- 
 fold. We give him (if it be a man) generously of our 
 thought; we feel ourselves wondering whether he 
 would be very, very unhappy were we for ever to with- 
 draw the sun of our presence. It would be unwise, 
 of course, consciously to encourage a hopeless passion ; 
 but, on the other hand, it would be nothing short of 
 cruel to avoid its possessor, or to subdue those natural 
 charms which first allured him, and in the contempla- 
 tion of which he is at least transiently happy. No; 
 common humanity dictates that we be to his virtues 
 very kind ; and generosity declares that, since the ulti- 
 mate felicity must be withheld, we should not stint 
 those minor blessings with which we are free to dower 
 him. Thus, a young woman less tender-hearted than 
 Miss Winston would have decided to remain at home, 
 as far as possible, on Tuesday and Friday evenings. 
 
 Contemplation of a good deed induces a mental se- 
 renity. In such a pleasant frame of mind Miss Win- 
 ston set forth to attend the third Symphony concert. 
 
 Music Hall was crowded, for an eminent soloist was 
 on the programme. Hope's parquet chair was on the 
 left aisle, ten rows from the stage ; and, recalling that 
 Mr. Gray had said his seats were well forward, she 
 
 168 
 
THE CABOCHON EMERALD 
 
 looked around in the hope of seeing him ; as he was not 
 visible, she concluded he must sit on the other side of 
 the house. The chair beside her was unoccupied, and 
 remained so. This was noteworthy only because no 
 other vacant seat was observable. 
 
 Hope was at first abashed by the elaborate toilets of 
 the women about her. The odors they exhaled did 
 suggest drug-store blotters, as Gray had remarked, 
 and they wore a great quantity of what is irreverently 
 termed "junk." Still, a few were as plainly dressed 
 as herself, and the others were dismissed with the open- 
 ing measures of the Beethoven overture. 
 
 When intermission came she prepared to join the 
 promenade in the foyer ; but as the persons in her im- 
 mediate vicinity elected to remain where they were, she 
 was disinclined to make herself conspicuous by march- 
 ing up the aisle. 
 
 There was such a crush in the foyer when the con- 
 cert ended that the chance of seeing a familiar face 
 was small; still, as she passed into the vestibule she 
 perceived Rhoda Weathers a little distance ahead, and 
 pressed forward to speak with her. But she was less 
 experienced than the other girl in threading passage 
 through a crowd, and the space between them widened. 
 
 After debouching, the stream of concert-goers 
 169 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 spread out, and Hope was able to quicken her steps 
 and tread close on Rhoda's heels. But even as she 
 stretched out a hand to touch the other's arm, Rhoda 
 vanished Into a waiting cab, and a man*s hand closed 
 the door from within. This hand, clutching a glove, 
 rested an instant on the top of the dropped sash, dis- 
 closing, on the little finger, a ring which Hope had 
 seen before — a cabochon emerald set in a band of dull 
 steel. 
 
 So! The man in the cab was Doctor Rudolf Erd- 
 mann. 
 
 Rhoda Weathers, Hope reflected on her way home, 
 was a queer young woman j and aff^ected her strangely. 
 Their acquaintance was limited to one meeting, at 
 breakfast with Miss Matheson, on which occasion 
 Flora and Hope did almost all the talking. Reserved, 
 even with Miss Matheson ("a difficult child," Flora 
 termed her) ; Intense, as her big brown eyes exhibited ; 
 given, as her friend testified, to protracted fits of mel- 
 ancholy, — Rhoda Weathers was a sharp contrast to 
 Hope Winston, who was reserved enough among 
 strangers, but frank and often impetuous with her 
 friends. 
 
 Yet, despite their antagonistic natures, which Hope 
 170 
 
THE CABOCHON EMERALD 
 
 sensed, she was strongly attracted to the brown-eyed 
 lass: an invisible tie seemed to bind them together. 
 She could not explain this, nor can I do better than to 
 quote Monsieur Maeterlinck : 
 
 "What I say often counts for so little, but my pres- 
 ence, the attitude of my soul, my future and my past, 
 that which will take birth in me, that which is not dead, 
 a secret thought, the stars that approve, my destiny, 
 the thousands of mysteries which surround me and 
 float about yourself — ^all this it is that speaks to you 
 at that tragic moment.'* 
 
 171 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE MAKING OF A GOWN 
 
 Masculine readers of Princess Hope's biography 
 will, of course, wish to know that the material for her 
 new gown was neither the "clinging black stuff," which 
 Miss Matheson humorously suggested, nor the cerise- 
 figured foulard which Madame Jesurin, who went 
 a-shopping with her, advised. Hope selected a dove- 
 gray albatross, to be trimmed simply with silk bands 
 of the same gray tone. 
 
 The decision was not easily come at. The problem 
 of expense had to be considered in all its perplexing 
 details, and hours spent in looking over fashion plates 
 and hints. 
 
 17^ 
 
THE MAKINP OF A GOWN 
 
 It was also decided that Madame De Bitte, who 
 hved in the flat below, should cut and fit the gown. 
 Hope could sew, and Mrs. Grady's machine was placed 
 at her disposal. 
 
 "Grand value," said Madame De Bitte, when she 
 learned the price of the gray albatross. "Grand 
 value ; you must have got it at a sale." 
 
 In spite of h-er name, Madame Agnes De Bitte was 
 not an "importer," nor even a "modiste"; she was 
 merely a dressmaker. She did not maintain a "par- 
 lor," nor a "salon," nor an "atelier^^ ; just a dressmak- 
 er's shop. Madame, to go further, was neither the in- 
 credibly symmetrical creature who designs the frocks 
 of society, nor the anaemic wisp of humanity who 
 "goes out by the day." She had a great deal of 
 shape, such as it was: her waist measure coquetted 
 with forty ; and as, unlike a cup defender, she did not 
 "work well in stays," and so discarded them, her fig- 
 ure may safely be left to the reader's imagination. 
 
 No time was to be lost in the making of the gown, 
 as Mrs. Addison West's musicale was for Thursday 
 evening ; thus when Madame De Bitte announced that 
 she was ready to "try on," Hope dropped her piano 
 practice and went below, Madame Jesurin following 
 with her knitting and the sunshine of her society. 
 
 173 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Behold Madame De Bitte, sunk upon one knee, her 
 mouth full of pins. "Will she ever be able to get up 
 again?" Hope wondered. 
 
 "You have a grand figure, Miss Winston," said the 
 dressmaker, smoothing down the lines of the skirt. 
 
 Madame Jesurin capped the compliment with a 
 more pointed reference to Miss Winston's physical at- 
 tractions ; whereat the young lady blushed a deep rose, 
 and steered the Countess on another tack, 
 
 "Did you attend the Buddhist services yesterday .f*" 
 
 No. Madame had decided that the Buddhist creed 
 was not precisely what her soul craved : Gautama and 
 his verities fell short of her spiritual needs: philo- 
 sophically considered they left so much to be desired. 
 "I asked Sister Isabelle, *What is truth?' She was 
 dumfounded." 
 
 Shallow! shallow! If one can not say, offhand, 
 what truth is, there is an end of pretension. 
 
 "That fits well over the hips," said Madame De 
 Bitte. She made a botch of trying to rise, so sat on 
 the floor. "Now, shall I make a train?" 
 
 "I think not," replied her patron. She had never 
 worn a train, and it seemed best not to begin just yet. 
 
 Madame Jesurin voted for the train, and Madame 
 De Bitte sought to compromise on "a little one," just 
 
 174 
 
THE MAKI]SM3^ OF A GOWN 
 
 sweeping the floor. But Miss Winston preferred that 
 the skirt should hang full, just touching all around. 
 
 "As you please," acquiesced the dressmaker. Her 
 second attempt to regain her feet was successful. "We 
 will now fit the waist.'* 
 
 "I am much attracted by New Thought," said Ma- 
 dame Jesurin, plying her knitting needles. "It is most 
 interesting." 
 
 "New Thought .?" said Hope. "Is it a religion ?^^ 
 
 ^'Gewiss: a religion of vibrations, of thought force." 
 
 "Be sure to make the arms loose," Madame De Bitte 
 was instructed. 
 
 *'0h, you pianists !" she exclaimed, and was remind- 
 ed of the trials of Madame FriedenthaPs modiste, who 
 once delivered a frock to that artist, only to be in- 
 formed that Madame found it impossible to play the 
 piano in it. As it was for a concert that very night, 
 the modiste had to sit by the piano and refit the waist, 
 Madame Friedenthal pausing in her practice now and 
 then to try on. 
 
 Madame De Bitte had the story from the modiste's 
 washerwoman ; for, of course, modistes and dressmak- 
 ers do not move in the same set. 
 
 "There, are those arms comfortable now.?" she 
 asked, and was smilingly assured they were. 
 
 175 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "New Thought is soul expression in its simplest 
 terms," Madame Jesurin pursued. "No priests, no 
 public services, no temples : wherever you may be, there 
 a temple is. It is simplicity itself." 
 
 "Too plain," said Madame De Bitte, her mind on 
 the gown. "Steel passementerie would look well." 
 
 Miss Winston demurred. 
 
 "Tell me about the vibrations, Madame Jesurin. 
 Do you make them yourself .?" 
 
 ''NatilrlicJi — and receive them from others. One 
 joins the Circle of the Vibrant Very, and exchanges 
 thought waves of health, happiness, success, and so 
 on. One affirms the potentialities of vibrant possi- 
 bilities." 
 
 "That sounds rather difficult." 
 
 "Not at all. It is all very plain." 
 
 "A little chiffon would relieve it," Madame De Bitte 
 pleaded. 
 
 "I think the silk bands will be sufficient," replied 
 Hope. 
 
 Dressmakers have a mania for trimming on, just 
 as barbers for trimming off. The one can not fathom 
 your desire for simplicity, the other your aversion to 
 a prison crop. Both must be restrained with a firm 
 hand. 
 
 176 
 
THE MAKIJiTG OF A GOWN 
 
 "It is called Sitting in the Silence," said Madame 
 Jesurin. 
 
 Hope sought to image Madame sitting in the Si- 
 lence. Alas for the Silence ! 
 
 "One sits in the Silence, and strives, by concentra- 
 tion, meditation and affirmation, to vibrate in tune 
 with the great Chord of Truth." 
 
 "The Chord of Truth?" Hope harked back to her 
 theory lessons. "Is that the tonic chord of C .^ I have 
 read that C is nature's key." 
 
 Madame was not prepared to affirm the root of the 
 Great Chord. 
 
 "Or perhaps it's the dominant. Truth crushed to 
 earth, you know. It's the same with the dominant; 
 you can't suppress it." 
 
 There were times when Madame Jesurin suspected 
 that Miss Winston was politely guying her; but her 
 eyes were so innocent, her face so demure, Madame's 
 suspicion was rootless as a lichen. 
 
 "I must put my tea-kettle on," she said, and went 
 up stairs. 
 
 When she became an adept in New Thought she 
 would likely boil water with thought-waves. At pres- 
 ent Mrs. Grady's old-thought cook-stove would have 
 to answer. 
 
 177 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Madame Jesurin has a grand mind," remarked the 
 dressmaker. 
 
 Miss Winston agreed, and inquired whether her 
 piano practice annoyed Madame De Bitte. 
 
 "Oh, dear, not in the least. It is just hke playing." 
 
 "Do you go to' concerts ?" 
 
 No; Madame seldom attended a concert; few 
 dressmaking hints are to be picked up at musical 
 entertainments ; the opera or horse-show is better. 
 
 The door-bell rang smartly. Waddling to the 
 window, Madame De Bitte saw a carriage and a 
 handsome pair of bays standing before the house. 
 She answered the bell in a flutter : hitherto her patrons 
 had arrived on foot. 
 
 "I am looking for Miss Winston," Hope heard the 
 visitor say, and, herself in a flutter, meditated flight 
 up stairs via the back hall. But before she could eff*ect 
 an escape the dressmaker ushered Mrs. Maybury into 
 the room. 
 
 "So !" exclaimed Enlightenment. "I have surprised 
 you." She took Hope's hands and pressed them aff^ec- 
 tlonately . "No, no ; the dressmaking shall not be in- 
 terrupted ; I can stay but a moment. I happened to be 
 in this part of town, so answered your note in person. 
 What a pretty gray gown you are making !" 
 
 178 
 
THE MAKIJ^G OF A GOWN 
 
 "It's going to be grand," declared Madame De 
 Bitte. "But it's dreadful plain; and she won't let 
 me put a thing on it. Now, wouldn't you say a lace 
 yoke, or a bit of chiffon ?" 
 
 "Miss Winston will relieve the plainness," rephed 
 Mrs. Maybury, smiling. "My dear girl, I am very 
 glad to see you again, and I wish to have a long talk 
 with you about your music and yourself. Can you 
 spend Friday with me? — that is the first day I have 
 clear." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good. Come in the afternoon, and remain for din- 
 ner. In the evening we shall have some music. You 
 are looking remarkably fresh and well ; yet you write 
 me you have been working hard." 
 
 "I am tireless, Mrs. Maybury." 
 
 Enlightenment sighed, and gathered her furs about 
 her. "What would I not give for tirelessness ! Fri- 
 day afternoon, then. Good-by." 
 
 She nodded to the dressmaker, who held the door 
 open reverently, and passed out. 
 
 "A grand lady!" said Madame De Bitte. "Them 
 furs never cost a cent less than a thousand dollars. 
 And she has a footman, too." 
 
 Her opinion of Miss Winston was correspondingly 
 179 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 increased. Fortunately for her patron's purse, tlie 
 price of the dressmaking had been fixed in advance. 
 
 On Thursday evening, at seven of the clock, Hope 
 stood before her mirror, putting a last few touches to 
 her hair. Madame De Bitte had been summoned to 
 shift a hook in the gray gown's collar, and was now 
 scanning the whole closely for a possible basting- 
 thread. 
 
 The gown fitted perfectly, and the effect was charm- 
 ing, though Madame De Bitte still bemoaned the fact 
 that it was "dreadful plain." 
 
 " 'Tain't too late," she urged. "I have two yards 
 of grand lace left over from the last dress I made." 
 
 Hope remained adamant to Madame's wiles, and the 
 dressmaker, yielding the battle with a sixty-pound 
 sigh, departed. 
 
 It was almost time for the carriage which Mrs. West 
 was to send, and Hope ran into Madame Jesurin's 
 apartments for that amiable critic's final word. 
 
 "Achy Liebcheriy you forgot your powder," said 
 Madame. 
 
 "Do I need powder .f^" 
 
 "Aher naturlich! Always you put powder on." 
 
 "But I have none." 
 
 180 
 
THE MAKING OF A GOWN 
 
 Madame provided the indispensable, and Mrs. 
 Grady was then called in. That good woman, in the 
 exuberance of her admiration, implanted a motherly 
 kiss on Hope's cheek — but gingerly, lest she disturb 
 a hair of the picture. 
 
 "Come in, dearie, and show yourself to John," she 
 said. " 'Twill do the man good." 
 
 The nominal head of the Grady household lowered 
 his newspaper and looked over the rim of his spec- 
 tacles. "My, my ! you're a jew'l," quoth he. " 'Tis a 
 sight for sore eyes. My ! my !" 
 
 "It's poetical ye are getting, John," laughed Mrs. 
 Grady; and John, abashed by his own eloquence, 
 plunged back into foreign politics. 
 
 Both Madame and Mrs. Grady saw Hope safely de- 
 posited in the carriage. 
 
 "Cinderella!" cried our Princess gaily, waving an 
 adieu. 
 
 "Contrive to lose a slipper!" Madame called after 
 her. 
 
 "Heaven bless the darlin' !" said Mrs. Grady ; and 
 with a comer of her apron she wiped away a precious 
 tear of sentiment. 
 
 181 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 MRS. ADDISON WEST's MUSICALE 
 
 Mrs. Addison West, as Miss Matheson hinted to 
 Miss Winston, was deservedly popular among the mu- 
 sicians, artists and literati of her city. She was a 
 liberal patron of the arts, she gave excellent dinners, 
 and her husband's cigars and liqueurs were above 
 criticism. 
 
 Addison West made his money in real estate, and he 
 had a great deal of it. The West residence, a hand- 
 some brick pile, was among the largest and finest in 
 Prospect Avenue, a street of stately mansions. Its 
 furnishings were for the most part colonial, as Mrs. 
 West was a Colonial Dame ("or something of that 
 sort," as her son Arthur would observe) ; and I, for 
 
 182 
 
MRS. WEST'S MUSICALE 
 
 one, can think of no pleasanter way to pass a dull 
 hour than to sit in her close-packed drawing-room (in 
 which a cat can scarcely get about, so trophied is it 
 with scalp-locks of Culture) and listen while she reads 
 — ^very musically, too — from the Great Book of Pedi- 
 grees. 
 
 Mrs» West was properly proud of her Bay State 
 ancestry, as you or I should be were we similarly 
 blessed. Strange to say, she had never set foot in New 
 England. She had no living relatives within its bor- 
 ders, and one can not visit one's ancestors — or is in no 
 haste to. But her eyes were ever turned toward 
 Massachusetts, and she used the Harvard "a." 
 
 Mrs. West was uncommonly tall and stately. She 
 had black hair, and very dark and dreamy brown eyes. 
 Her voice, except in club debate, was almost inaudible, 
 and she entered a room like a shadow : a faint rustling 
 of silk, and you beheld her. 
 
 The reader already knows that she was more inter- 
 ested in music than in almost any other thing. She 
 agreed with Doctor Dudelsack, whom she prodigiously 
 admired, that of all means of soul expression, music 
 was the most satisfactory. The reader also knows 
 that she was a composer — chiefly of songs, which she 
 dedicated to singers of her acquaintance, who were 
 
 183 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 very glad to sing them, I have no doubt. A trivial de- 
 tail may be added : the original inspiration, the heaven- 
 bom melody of the song, was harmonized and set in 
 contrapuntal order by Doctor Dudelsack. These melo- 
 dies Mrs. West saw as in a vision — floating in the air : 
 it was the more prosaic business of Dudelsack to seize 
 the unembodied and oftentimes elusive spirit, clothe it 
 with harmonic flesh, and pump the red corpuscles of 
 counterpoint into it. This operation commonly took 
 place in Mrs. West's sanctum on the top floor of the 
 house; a sequestered apartment in which it was her 
 wont to "commune with her soul." 
 
 Here, too, it was frequently her privilege first to 
 hear those Dudelsackian gems which later (in lec- 
 tures) delighted the ears of students, and (in pro- 
 gramme notes) helped so many music-lovers through 
 the brambles of Brahms and the hazel-brush of Rich- 
 ard Strauss. Should she ever forget with what emotion 
 she listened to that masterpiece beginning — 
 
 "Hark! Is that flimmering on the violins the 
 stealthy footfall of some ravening creature of the 
 wild? No; 'tis but the night wind moaning through 
 rustling leaves . . . " 
 
 Forget it ? 'Twas graven on her soul. 
 
 Still, do not assume that Mrs. West was for ever in 
 184 
 
MRS. WESI^S MUSICALE 
 
 the clouds, for ever "communing" in her soul eyrie. 
 It was conceded that the Social Dynamics Club, some- 
 times referred to as the Gratiano Club (Gratiano, you 
 remember, spoke "an infinite deal of nothing") never 
 had an abler president, one with a firmer grasp on 
 large affairs. To observe Mrs. West, gavel in hand, 
 steering debate on the moot-question, "Who Owns the 
 Earth?" was to exclaim: "Here is a practical woman, 
 with no nonsense about her." 
 
 Neither must you assume that Mrs. West's intel- 
 lectual stature dwarfed her husband to insignificance, 
 as is so often the case. True, he fell within the classi- 
 fication "commercial," and made no pretense at Cul- 
 ture ; but he had a pretty taste in pictures and book- 
 bindings ; and while he gave himself no musical airs, 
 and was known privately to speak as disrespectfully of 
 Doctor Dudelsack as Jeffrey spoke of the Equator, yet 
 he was observed to listen to good music with a quiet 
 enjoyment, and was a loyal supporter, with purse and 
 presence, of the Symphony Orchestra. Addison West 
 was quite as popular as his versatile wife; each re- 
 spected the other, agreeing as to the main things in 
 life; and both were extremely fond of their son, who 
 must be reckoned among the most fortunate of youths. 
 
 I hope you have received a definite impression of 
 185 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Mrs. West; for if love's young dream should come 
 true for a certain young gentleman, you would be glad 
 to know what sort of mother-in-law fell to the lot of 
 Princess Hope. 
 
 The possibility of such relationship was in Mrs. 
 West's mind when she greeted Miss Winston on the 
 evening of the musicale. Critically regarding the ob- 
 ject of her son's admiration, she acknowledged the boy 
 had good taste ; and since he must inevitably marry a 
 musician, he might go farther and fare worse. Thus 
 it was with a faint touch of the mother-in-law manner 
 that she escorted Miss Winston through the drawing- 
 rooms, and presented her to the celebrities, major and 
 minor, that thronged them. 
 
 Flora Matheson, coming down the stair from the 
 dressing-room, first espied her young friend in con- 
 verse with Churchill Gray, who had arrived unusually 
 early — for him. ("In order," said Flora cynically, 
 "that he may run away the earlier." ) 
 
 "Oh, this will never do," she exclaimed, going up to 
 the pair. "There is altogether too much gray here." 
 She plucked the red roses from her girdle and fastened 
 them in Hope's. "There,"— standing off a bit and 
 tilting her head critically — "that improves the effect 
 wonderfully. Don't you think so, Churchill?" 
 
 186 
 
MRS. WES T>S M U S I C A L E 
 
 He did not answer at once, occupied in comparing 
 the roses in Hope's cheeks with those given her by 
 Flora. 
 
 "I would suggest one flower in the hair," he said 
 at last. 
 
 Flora acted on the suggestion, declaring : "You are 
 an artist, Churchill." 
 
 "Better have escaped hanging," he replied. 
 
 "And worse have not. I leave him in your charge, 
 Hope, and shall hold you accountable if he runs 
 away." 
 
 With which Flora left them, and hastened to greet 
 Mr. Stanley Arthur Jones, who, looking very hand- 
 some and distinguished, bent over her finger-tips in 
 quite the manner of a Gentleman of France. 
 
 The movement of this history being, to say the least, 
 deliberate, we need not stand still to consider the star 
 of the present evening, Marjorie Dodd. Let it suffice 
 that she was blonde and assertive, and that she sang 
 indifferently well. Nor need we pause critically to ex- 
 amine the half-dozen songs she sang (Minerva West: 
 opus SI). Must you be informed that they were 
 lovely, charming, splendid, sweet, cute? Surely not. 
 You in your time have murmured the adjectives, and 
 meant them every whit as sincerely. They are much 
 
 187 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 easier to say (in public) than stupid, trivial, foolish, 
 worthless. 
 
 This song group was the only set piece of the musi- 
 cal fireworks. With the last shower of sparks the 
 audience broke ranks, thereafter to listen or not, as 
 they pleased, to what might follow. 
 
 Relieved of the task of turning music for Doctor 
 Dudelsack, who played Miss Dodd's accompaniments, 
 Arthur West looked around for Miss Winston. He 
 found her with his mother, who presently was attracted 
 elsewhere. 
 
 "Aren't your ears burning?" he asked, dropping 
 into the vacated seat. 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 "So many compliments flying about. Shall I re- 
 peat them ?" 
 
 "If you do I'll go and talk to Doctor Dudelsack." 
 
 "CflTi you? I get seasick listening to him. 'Hark! 
 is that glimmering on the violins the stealthy footfall* 
 
 . . . How does the rest of it go? Mother knows 
 it by heart." 
 
 "It is worth remembering. Tell me, who is that 
 important-looking person?" She indicated a languid 
 gentleman by the piano, in conversation with Miss 
 Dodd. 
 
 188 
 
MRS. WEST^S MUSICALE 
 
 "That ? Oh, sh-h-h !— That's Whelplej, of the Mw 
 steal Sandbagger" 
 
 "Then he is as important as he looks." 
 
 "More so, if anything. He holds the destinies of 
 all musicians in the hollow of his hand. But he's 
 condescending — frightfully condescending. . . . 
 Hello! there's Van Wart." 
 
 ''That Professor Van Wart ? Oh, no !" 
 
 "Fact, I assure you." 
 
 She stared, incredulous. Could that jolly little ball 
 of a man, with the hearty laugh and the twinkling 
 eyes, circulating about the room with a nod here and 
 a hand-shake there — could that be the dismal indi- 
 vidual who communed with the spirits of the masters 
 in the Studio of the Soul.? 
 
 "Quite another chap when he goes out socially," 
 said Arthur. "Checks his soul with his hat." 
 
 Hope bubbled with merriment, and rewarded the 
 happy young man at her side with a glance that was 
 almost tender. 
 
 And with this he was forced to be content for a 
 little while; for Karl Geist, yielding perforce to the 
 gentle beseechment of the hostess, favored the com- 
 pany with a violin selection. 
 
 Hope, who had never heard him touch bow to 
 189 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 string before, was surprised by the fire and the poetry 
 of his playing, despite the fact that he was seemingly 
 indifferent to the effect he might be producing. She 
 discovered that he had the same power to move her pos- 
 sessed by Madame Friedenthal, which she found so 
 lamentably lacking in the Grindstone's staff pianists 
 and fiddlers. 
 
 "What was it?" she asked Arthur eagerly. 
 
 "Andante, by Godard, or something of that sort," 
 he answered, and laughed: "Mother ambushed Karl 
 Geist neatly. You know he never takes his fiddle with 
 him — simply refuses ; so mother got one and had it all 
 ready for him." 
 
 Hope smiled, though inwardly she disapproved of 
 Mrs. West's stratagem. "I suppose Professor Geist 
 gets tired of the sound of a violin," she said. 
 
 "Oh, no ; he teaches very few pupils — only the most 
 advanced; and he will scrape by the hour for you if 
 he happens to feel like it. He doesn't play like a 
 teacher, does he?" 
 
 "Why does he not give concerts?" 
 
 "He claims, for one thing, that he hasn't enough 
 technic, and, for another, that he would rather teach 
 than eat. He is a born teacher." 
 
 "But to play before thousands, to hold them in a 
 190 
 
MRS. WES'P'S MUSICALE 
 
 spell of enchantment! Oh, to make them feel what / 
 have felt!" 
 
 "Geist, I think, would rather teach them to do that 
 than do it himself. When he gets hold of a promising 
 pupil, like Rhoda Weathers, he will work harder than 
 she will. In Rhoda's case, however, I suspect he is in- 
 terested in more ways than one. . . . Oh, Lord !" 
 Arthur groaned sepulchrally. "Fanny Skinner is go- 
 ing to screech. Why didn't we escape when we had 
 the chance?" 
 
 He glanced ruefully at the one semi-secluded nook 
 in the overlighted mansion, the hall settle in the angle 
 of the stair, now in possession of Karl Geist and 
 Churchill Gray. 
 
 Miss Skinner expressed vocally the mournful fact 
 that "there are no birds in last year's nests," and un- 
 der cover of the applause that followed, Arthur and 
 Hope joined the pair in the cozy-comer. Gray sur- 
 rendered his seat to Miss Winston, and Arthur fetched 
 a couple of chairs. 
 
 Mrs. Romanta Drewl, an elocutionist, after much 
 cajoling, was finally persuaded to recite something. 
 
 "It's a shame to tease her so," West declared. 
 
 "Is there any one more reluctant about coming for- 
 ward than an elocutionist .'*" Geist queried. 
 
 191 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "A lady harp-player," mildly suggested Gray. 
 
 "Silence on the anvils !" Arthur commanded, as the 
 elocutionist began. 
 
 They disposed themselves resignedly to listen, now 
 and then exchanging glances of cheer and comfort. 
 Suddenly a strange thing happened; the elocutionist 
 broke down ! 
 
 "A miracle !" Geist exclaimed sotto voce. 
 
 "Nothing short of one could have saved us," said 
 Gray. 
 
 "Don't halloo till you're out of the woods," said 
 Hope. "She may try something else." 
 
 The suggestion alarmed them, but needlessly. 
 
 "She's done for," said Arthur gleefully. "The 
 catastrophe has stunned her. See, they are leading 
 her away." 
 
 A murmur of sympathy and admiration went round. 
 "Wasn't it a lovely little thing! Don't you think it 
 was a lovely Httle thing?" "Isn't it too bad she can't 
 remember the rest!" "It was awfully good of her to 
 try. ..." 
 
 "And now again," said Geist, "the coy and diffident 
 Miss Skinner." 
 
 Miss Skinner was heard to remark to her accom- 
 panist that she would "sing that nocturne now." And 
 
 192 
 
' The CO/ and diffident Miss Skinner '* Page ip2 
 
MRS. WEST-^S MUSICALE 
 
 to the company, pref atorily : "I can't sing at all this 
 evening : I don't know what the trouble is." 
 
 The nocturne went lamely. 
 
 "Really," declared the cantatrice, "with my throat 
 in such condition it is positively cruel for me to sing." 
 
 The Cozy-Corner Quartette (aside) — "To us, yes." 
 
 "However" — Miss Skinner placed a third song be- 
 fore her accompanist — "this may go better." 
 
 No comparisons were drawn — pubHcly. 
 
 The Cozy-Corner Quartette (aside) — "Lord, now 
 lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. ^^ 
 
 Miss Skinner's departure was heartily acclaimed by 
 all present. 
 
 "Mynheer Van Wart is now besought," remarked 
 Gray. 
 
 "Oh, good!" exclaimed Hope. "I am curious to 
 hear him play." 
 
 "I fear your curiosity will remain unsatisfied," said 
 Geist dryly ; "mine has." 
 
 "But he was Liszt's favorite favorite pupil." 
 
 "Johnson had his Boswell." 
 
 "But Boswell was not unable to write," Gray ob- 
 served. 
 
 "I dare say Van Wart can play. Still, it is some- 
 thing to refrain." 
 
 193 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "At least it disarms criticism," said Hope. 
 
 Said Arthur: "My opinion is that Van Wart was 
 so busy picking up Liszt's collar-buttons, cigarette 
 stubs and burnt matches, he hadn't time to learn much 
 about piano playing." 
 
 Flora Matheson approached. 
 
 "Mrs. West," she said, "presents her compliments 
 to Professor Geist, and will he be so adorable as to 
 play a Grieg sonata with Mr. Victor Mabbitt who, for 
 his part, has consented." 
 
 Geist rose, then turned a quizzical look upon the 
 other members of the Cozy-Corner Quartette. 
 
 "Dare I 'leave my reputation behind me' ?" 
 
 "I'll defend it for you," said Flora, taking his seat. 
 
 "You 1" Geist gestured despair. "Then I am indeed 
 lost." 
 
 Their mocking laughter followed him. 
 
 194 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE MUSI- 
 CAL E 
 
 Doubtless there were carpers on Olympus to pick 
 flaws in the songs of Apollo. It is less conceivable 
 that the drink of the gods suffered criticism ; from all 
 accounts, Nectar was an incomparable wine, unsur- 
 passed to this day. Thus, the company that listened 
 to the songs of Minerva West may have harbored 
 various opinions as to their merits, but of the punch 
 which Addison West composed for the occasion there 
 was only one opinion, and that a golden. 
 
 As a composer of polyphonic punches. West was 
 worthy of place among the old masters. The list of 
 his compositions rivaled in number those of Orlando di 
 
 195 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Lasso, in diversity those of Mozart. His "Eroica" 
 punch (opus 53) was famous : composed in the Phryg- 
 ian mode, it fired the consumer with a lofty patriotism 
 and a reckless valor, happily unrequired by any sub- 
 sequent emergency. Another famous opus, composed 
 in the Eolian mode, was his "Bacchanal," reserved for 
 stag parties, as being a trifle too festive for politer 
 gatherings. On the infrequent occasions when his 
 wife entertained the Social Dynamics Club, West ven- 
 tured the Lydian mode. The result was sufficiently 
 melancholy. 
 
 Connoisseurs preferred his absolute punch to his 
 programme or descriptive compositions. As Karl 
 Geist put it. West's absolute punch did not appeal 
 merely to the senses ; it revealed imagination, and de- 
 manded imagination on the part of the imbiber. To 
 miss the intellectual note v/as to miss the whole. 
 
 West's latest opus, which was among his most suc- 
 cessful, may be described as a free fantasia. It con- 
 tained a little of everything ; yet the harmonic web was 
 so deftly woven, the pattern so cunningly contrived 
 (here, if anywhere, a mixed metaphor is pardonable), 
 'twas impossible to detect a thread-end. 
 
 Under the benign influence of this concoction the 
 bores became endurable, and the stiff'ness of the bored 
 
 196 
 
A FURTlHER ACCOUNT 
 
 relaxed ; the judicious gave over grieving, and the un- 
 skilful laughed the louder. A memorable punch ! 
 
 The denser refreshments which accompanied it were 
 in keeping. Ambrosial salads, sandwiches and coffee 
 were dispensed by half a dozen pretty maids. Miss 
 Winston among the number ; and more than once, hear- 
 ing herself compared to Hebe, Hope felt her ears bum 
 smartly with her cheeks. She declined the punch to 
 which the junior West invited her: she was sufficiently 
 excited by the social electricity. And when Churchill 
 Gray presented himself for the promised cup of coffee, 
 she gave it to him with a hand that trembled a little. 
 
 "I hope it will not keep you awake," she smiled. 
 
 "Nothing is more certain," he said. 
 
 "Then already I am conscience-stricken." 
 
 "Radiantly so." 
 
 "I conceal my pleasures poorly^ I know. Still, I 
 would not give you sleepless nights." 
 
 "You have assured me such already : the coffee will 
 be merely incidental." 
 
 She flushed. "You have tried the punch, I see." 
 
 "And deserve the thrust," he answered humbly. 
 "This draft is bitter now." 
 
 "Permit me." She dropped another lump of sugar 
 in his coffee. 
 
 197 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 He thanked her gravely, and gave place to Stanley 
 Arthur Jones, riding his archaic hobby-horse. 
 
 "Three cubes of sweetness and the merest hint of 
 cream," said the author. 
 
 Hope passed the cup with the remark : "The formula 
 suggests Miss Matheson." 
 
 Mr. Jones bowed. "A replica for myself," he re- 
 quested. "Our tastes are parallel." 
 
 "Parallel tastes never meet, Mr. Jones.'* 
 
 He smiled flashingly. "Shrewdly worded, egad! 
 Your servant. Miss Winston." 
 
 Mynheer Van Wart and Victor Mabbitt appeared. 
 
 "Black coffee, if you please," said the former. 
 
 She gave it to him with the admonishment: "Con- 
 sider your nerves. Professor." 
 
 "Nerves? Nerves?" He turned to Mabbitt : "What 
 are nerves, Victor ?" 
 
 "The plural puzzles you, I see," said Mabbitt. 
 
 *'Ha! ha!" laughed Van Wart, clapping the other 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 Fragments of dialogue floated by the coffee-urn. 
 Mrs. Romanta Drewl, complimenting the evening star, 
 remarked : "You are in such refreshing contrast. Miss 
 Dodd, to the run of musicians. They pay so little at- 
 tention to stage presence, more especially instrumental 
 
 198 
 
A FURT'HER ACCOUNT 
 
 artists. The average pianist is either abrupt and 
 jerky or haphazard and slouchy ; as if nothing was of 
 importance except the playing. You have seen Ma- 
 dame Friedenthal carry roses off the stage. Isn't it 
 absurd! You would think they were red-hot. And 
 with her handkerchief wrapped round the stems! 
 Afraid of hurting her hands, I suppose." 
 
 Arthur West was telling a lady that it was too bad 
 the So^and-So's were unblessed with children. Said 
 Arthur: "They ought to have a son or a daughter, 
 or something of that sort." Whereat the lady tittered. 
 
 Another lady, presented to Mynheer Van Wart, in- 
 quired: "And how is Mrs. Van Wart.^* I remember 
 her piano playing with so much pleasure." 
 
 "Madame," returned Van Wart, "you must be 
 thinking of my first wife ; my present wife is a singer." 
 
 Flora Matheson was explaining the Sudo piano 
 method to Mr. Jones : "You count — one, two, three — 
 at each count describing with your finger a circle in 
 the air. At four you strike the piano. This devital- 
 izes the wrist." 
 
 "Ah, yes. And the object of devitalization .f^" 
 
 "That the soul's inspiration may flow unimpeded to 
 the finger-tips." 
 
 "Egad, how very interesting ! But why the circle.'^" 
 199 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "The circle is a symbol of perfection," expounded 
 Miss Matheson. 
 
 "Fore gad, Miss Flora, I am cousin to Dullness. I 
 observe, then, that you are three hours in the air to 
 one on the keyboard." 
 
 "Now you are bright again." 
 
 "Reflected light, from a central luminary." 
 
 "I read that in a book — one of yours." 
 
 "History repeats itself : may not the historical nov- 
 elist.?" 
 
 "What do you think of the method .f^" 
 
 "There's madness in it." 
 
 "It has the approval of Karl Geist." 
 
 "Praise from Sir Hubert," murmured Mr. Jones. 
 
 "Professor Geist declares that if one pursues the 
 circle of perfection, one can not fail to become an all- 
 round player." 
 
 "I suspect a witticism." 
 
 "Discerning man ! I am positive a witticism was in- 
 tended." 
 
 "Why, what has become of all the men ?" exclaimed 
 Minerva West, half an hour later. "Flora, dear, 
 won't you run up to Mr. West's den and rout out the 
 deserters. Mar j orie Dodd is going to sing again." 
 
 200 
 
A FURTHER ACCOUNT 
 
 Miss Matheson departed on her mission, and, meet- 
 ing Miss Winston on the way, impressed her into the 
 man-drive. "We may start up one or two," she re- 
 marked, as they went up the stair, "though we can't 
 expect to stampede the herd." 
 
 The entrance to Addison West's den was fogged 
 with tobacco smoke, through which the recreant males 
 were dimly discernible. Their comfortable attitudes 
 need not be described. You, Sir, know how agreeable 
 it is to sprawl in easy chair or on divan, far from the 
 madding elocutionist or singer, with a glass of Scotch 
 in one hand and a choice Havana in the other. You, 
 Madame, who must sit so stiffly at a musicale, no mat- 
 ter how informal, have often envied your consort — 
 no, not his Scotch and tobacco. Heaven forbid! nor 
 even his recumbent attitude; but the intellectual at- 
 mosphere in which he steeps himself. You have 
 sighed, and wished you were one of the party; for 
 beyond question the conversation at such gatherings 
 is of a high order, and stimulating to one's intel- 
 lectuals. 
 
 "Doesn't Van Wart look comfy, though!" whis- 
 pered Flora, as the girls halted without the den. 
 
 In very sooth, as Mr. Jones would say, the soul 
 medium of the music masters was comfortably dis- 
 
 201 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 posed. He sat Turkwise on a leather couch, one 
 chubby fist clasping a glass of Highland dew, the 
 other a siphon. 
 
 "Hist ! he speaks !" said Hope. 
 
 They tiptoed forward and listened. 
 
 "I must have played him for three-quarters of an 
 hour," they heard him say, "until I was cramped in 
 every joint, and there was no more feeling in my hands 
 than in two blocks of wood; and just as I got him 
 within ten feet of the boat I'm damned if he didn't 
 get away !" 
 
 From out the fog came murmurs of piscatorial sym- 
 pathy and a hiss of carbonic water; outside the door 
 a peal of laughter. Churchill Gray rose quickly, the 
 other gentlemen following suit. 
 
 "Come in, girls," invited Addison West, putting 
 down a new muskallonge rod he had been exhibiting. 
 
 But the girls declined to join the deserters. "We 
 are constabulary of Apollo," Miss Matheson an- 
 nounced, "commanded to fetch you all below stairs, 
 dead or alive." 
 
 "Hang Apollo!" cried Van Wart gaily. "I for 
 one refuse to surrender." 
 
 "What is the penalty for resisting the constabu- 
 lary ?" inquired Victor Mabbitt, 
 
 202 
 
A FURTHER ACCOUNT 
 
 *^They are irresistible," Karl Geist protested. 
 
 "We may as well surrender gracefully," said Gray. 
 
 "Capitulation, gentlemen," observed the elder West, 
 "suggests that stirring picture. The Last Round. 
 Shall we pose it?" 
 
 The ammunition bottle circled for the final volley. 
 The devoted little band raised their glasses. 
 
 *'The fair constabulary !" pledged Gray. 
 
 "God bless 'em !" Van Wart added fervently. 
 
 The last round was enthusiastically discharged, and 
 the garrison filed out. 
 
 Of the delightful fate that waited them below I 
 need only hint. Marjorie Dodd sang several songs; 
 Fannie Skinner was prevailed on to try once more; 
 and Mrs. Romanta Drewl, at the very moment when 
 her friends despaired of persuading her, consented to 
 recite a little something which was voted cute and 
 sweet. 
 
 A thoroughly charming evening, every one declared, 
 and none mope sincerely than a certain young woman 
 in dove-gray albatross, who rode home swiftly in 
 a carriage. Flora Matheson accompanying her part 
 of the way. 
 
 "You were simply bewitching to-night," declared 
 the amiable Flora, with an affectionate pat. "The 
 
 203 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 men raved about you openly, and the women admired 
 your modesty and reserve. Modesty covers a multi- 
 tude of charms. Heigh-ho ! I wish / were a musical 
 genius," 
 
 "I wish / were, too," Hope echoed. 
 
 "Even modesty may be pushed too far," said Flora. 
 "You are a musical genius, my dear, and when taxed 
 with it you may as well confess." 
 
 "But — what ha've I done . . . " 
 
 "It isn't what you have done, but what you are 
 going to do. That's logic, isn't it.?" 
 
 "The logic of our sex." 
 
 "We should be foolish to try to improve on it. 
 
 . . . Well, dearie, you have made a good start 
 socially; follow it up. You can't make too many 
 friends." 
 
 The young person to whom this dubious advice was 
 given was the subject of a conversation between two 
 gentlemen who were walking homeward. 
 
 "By the way," remarked Karl Geist, "I have a new 
 pupil in theory, the beautiful Miss Winston." 
 
 "I congratulate the beautiful Miss Winston," said 
 Churchill Gray. 
 
 "Erdmann says she is a genius." 
 204 
 
A FURT-HER ACCOUNT 
 
 "Indeed? And how does Erdmann know?" inquired 
 Gray ? 
 
 "She may have informed him. Such confidences are 
 not rare." 
 
 "I prefer your own conclusion." 
 
 "It is a bit early to form one; but I am favorably 
 impressed. She has that peculiar assimilation which 
 genius exhibits. When you tell her to write something 
 you instinctively feel she is going to write it cor- 
 rectly." 
 
 "Then I congratulate teacher as well as pupil." 
 
 "She is from the country, I understand." 
 
 "I believe so. Poor as Job's turkey." 
 
 "So? Who, then, pays me six dollars an hour?" 
 
 "True ; I overlooked that. Very likely I was misin- 
 formed." 
 
 The subject was not pursued. After a pause Geist 
 resumed: "Young West is extremely attentive to the 
 beautiful Miss Winston." 
 
 "I observed as much." 
 
 "Our literary friend, Mr. Jones, seems equally smit- 
 ten with Miss Matheson. It looks like a match." 
 
 Gray returned an indifferent affirmative. 
 
 They separated as a carriage containing the fair 
 subjects of their colloquy whirled by them. 
 
 205 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IN WHICH A YOUNG GENTIiEMAN PRE- 
 SUMES TO ADVISE A YOUNG LADY 
 
 When Leith Maybury sighed and gathered her furs 
 about her (three chapters back), she was thinking, for 
 the thousandth time, how inadequate was her physical 
 equipment to the demands of the concert grand piano. 
 A little strength properly applied will lift a consider- 
 able weight, and Mrs. Maybury, scantily dowered 
 with that which nature gives prodigally to many an- 
 other, had accomplished a great deal in a lifting way ; 
 but the great weights were beyond her power, and the 
 thought of it cost her many a tear. Denied the du- 
 bious pleasures of a professional career (she had no 
 need of its profits), she cultivated music for her own 
 enjoyment and that of her husband and her friends. 
 
 206 
 
A YOUNG GENiTLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 Robert Maybury, though honestly regretful that 
 his wife should have a single desire he was unable to 
 gratify, accepted the decree of fate more cheerfully 
 than she. He was of a domestic turn, and his inti- 
 mates on the Board of Trade, of which he was a 
 wealthy and influential member, were seldom success- 
 ful in luring "Bob" Maybury from his own fireside, 
 for which he confessed a foolish fondness. His wife 
 was not domestic in her tastes ; by which I mean she 
 lacked nearly all those housewifely attributes which 
 are frankly approved by ninety-nine men and secretly 
 esteemed by the hundredth. Nevertheless, she made a 
 charming home for her devoted Robert, and preferred 
 his society to any other person's. Could the most do- 
 mestic of women do more? 
 
 Maybury's home was on Prospect Boulevard, a few 
 squares from Addison West's mansion, from which it 
 differed as the pearl differs from the diamond in glory. 
 The Maybury residence was furnished simply and in 
 unerring taste, and its evening lights were low and 
 shaded. Into such a picture Mrs. Addison West, with 
 her ancestral ghosts, her noiseless tread and pianissimo 
 voice, would seem to fit exactly ; and I count it odd that 
 her own mansion should present a contrast so unpleas- 
 ing. But an item of this sort in a world of contradic- 
 
 207 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 tions can appeal but passingly to our surprise or 
 curiosity. 
 
 Into the pleasant Maybury environment Miss Win- 
 ston slipped on Friday afternoon, and she and 
 Enlightenment had a long talk over her "career." 
 
 "For you know, my dear," said Mrs. Maybury, 
 "you were destined for a career, just as I was not." 
 She sighed for the thousand-and-first time. 
 
 Hope gave her a faithful account of her musical 
 doings to date. Some of the details, and the manner 
 in which they were related, amused Mrs. Maybury, 
 who plainly had no exalted opinion of the Colossus. 
 
 "I am sorry you might not have had private instruc- 
 tion," she said. "I don't believe in the factory label." 
 
 Hope mentioned Professor Geist as an accepted in- 
 structional ideal. 
 
 "Karl Geist," replied Mrs. Maybury, "is practically 
 a private teacher : the conservatory simply looks after 
 his business ; he is such an irresponsible creature that 
 he needs a business guardian." 
 
 The "little secret" between Doctor Erdmann and 
 Miss Winston was not disclosed. 
 
 "And now," said Mrs. Maybury, opening the grand 
 piano, "let me hear what progress the year has 
 brought." 
 
 208 
 
A YOUNG GEN'TLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 Hope played at length ; and though Mrs. Maybury 
 was a kindlier disposed critic than Herr Beckmesser 
 in the opera, she wrinkled her brow and chalked up 
 more than one mark against her protegee. 
 
 "But you have done wonderfully well," she said. 
 "Technically you are as far advanced as is necessary 
 for the present; other things in which you are defi- 
 cient require attention. One thing you lack, and 
 which you can not acquire too early, is repose. Then, 
 there are a thousand and one little things you must be 
 taught, which even genius can not wholly anticipate. 
 For example, in Bach the mordent is accented on the 
 first note, not the third, as you do it. Suppose you 
 play for me once a week. My criticism may perhaps 
 aid you." 
 
 Hope promised gladly and gratefully, not deceived 
 by the delicate way in which instruction was offered. 
 Incidentally she promised herself to disregard a few 
 of the innumerable methods at the conservatory. With 
 Mrs. Maybury to coach her piano work and Karl 
 Geist to teach her musical theory, she felt she was at 
 last in the way of rapid progress. 
 
 Shortly after six o'clock Mr. Maybury arrived — a 
 large man, with close-clipped brown beard and soft 
 brown eyes, and the gentlest manner conceivable; a 
 
 209 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 manner, indeed, which had deceived more than one 
 commercial bucaneer that thought to board an inof- 
 fensive merchantman. "The squarest man on the 
 Board of Trade," Bob May bury was withal one of the 
 most daring and successful. With Maybury, to Miss 
 Winston's surprise, came Churchill Gray. Between 
 the two men existed a mutual regard founded upon 
 appreciation of traits of character admired by each 
 as the possession of the other. 
 
 The dinner-hour was one of the most delightful 
 our Princess ever spent. No banquet in Court of 
 Faery could be more satisfactory than the present ap- 
 peal to the material senses ; no slave of the lamp was 
 better trained than Mrs. Maybury's white-capped 
 maid-servant, or stepped more lightly, or fetched and 
 whisked away a dish with half her grace. As for the 
 conversation, no comparisons may be instituted, as 
 dinner-table conversation forms no feature of fairy 
 tales. The talk was not consciously brilliant. It 
 ranged leisurely through Russian politics and liter- 
 ature, the comparative attractiveness of Rome and 
 Florence for Americans abroad, the Titian newly 
 loaned to the Art Museum, and other subjects which 
 interested Miss Winston profoundly, and on which 
 (despairingly conscious of her limits as a conversa- 
 
 210 
 
A YOUNG GEN'TLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 tionalist) she refrained from passing an opinion. How 
 much there was to know, outside of music ! 
 
 Karl Geist arrived in season for the after-dinner 
 coffee. He brought his violin, and at sight of it Hope 
 was reminded of Arthur West's remark: "You know 
 Geist never takes his fiddle with him — simply refuses." 
 Evidently, like Mr. Gray, he made an exception of 
 Mrs. Maybury. 
 
 The little company repaired to the music-room. Fol- 
 low them in, beloved reader, if you wish, but I prom- 
 ise you dull entertainment. For these good people, 
 reasonable enough in other matters, are obsessed by the 
 idea that Johannes Brahms, late of Vienna, wrote some 
 of the most beautiful music in the world; rarely, 
 chastely, reservedly beautiful music ; beautiful in line, 
 and mass, and color ; music that — But pshaw ! I need 
 not remind you who have yawned over his "Academic 
 Overture" and slept through his First Symphony, and 
 who may have estimated his life work by those two 
 compositions, — I need not remind you that Johannes 
 Brahms was a dry, pedantic old chap, whose pages 
 are as destitute of melody as those of Euclid. As 
 once was asked me quaintly : "Why did Brahms write 
 music at all.? Why was he not an astronomer.'^" To 
 which Churchill Gray, or some other amiable Brahms- 
 
 211 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 ite would probably make answer, that whereas Brahms 
 the astronomer could only bring the stars to us, 
 Brahms the music master takes us to the stars — or 
 very near them. 
 
 Pooh! A generation hence you and I would likely 
 echo this extravagance ; but, as it happens, we are liv- 
 ing in the present, in the best of company, and the 
 music of the present is quite to our liking. Pray, my 
 dear Miss Rubato, let us have a Chopin Nocturne, pre- 
 ferably the one in E-flat — Opus 9, 1 think it is. . . . 
 Ah-h-h! that is something like music. Could any- 
 thing be lovelier.? How ever fresh the thought, how 
 deathless the melodic beauty! . . . Thank you, 
 and now, if you are quite done sobbing, a Liszt Rhap- 
 sody, if you please. And after 'that a Moszkowski 
 cream-puff, or any other little treasure in your reper- 
 tory. Dear, dear! I don't know when I have enjoyed 
 a more profitable evening. 
 
 Before we turn our backs upon Mrs. Maybury's 
 music-room, we might peep in at the ladies and gentle- 
 men gathered there ; for it is always a pleasure to see 
 people enjoying themselves in a seemly manner, 
 though their means of enjoyment be only a table of 
 logarithms. 
 
 Mrs. Maybury is at the piano, Brahms' G-major 
 213 
 
A YOUNG GEN^TLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 Sonata for Piano and Violin before her, and Karl 
 Geist with his fiddle-bow is pointing out to Miss Wins- 
 ton, who is looking eagerly over Mrs. May bury 's 
 shoulder, some of the fancied wonders of the second 
 movement, which they have just finished playing, and 
 which they have been requested to repeat by Mr. Gray, 
 who, stretched on a divan, in the dimmest comer of 
 the room, is smoking a cigarette with the air of a man 
 whose soul is steeped in contentment. Mr. Maybury, 
 who shares this peace of the spirit, is smoking a cigar ; 
 Professor Geist prefers a brier pipe. The ladies pre- 
 tend to enjoy the odor of burning tobacco. Dear dis- 
 semblers ! 
 
 "I feel strangely exalted," Hope remarked to Gray. 
 "My feet seem scarcely to touch the earth. That isn't 
 very original, I know." 
 
 They were walking homeward in the soft November 
 night, lighted by the moon. 
 
 "I share your exaltation in a measure," said Gray ; 
 "though I confess that through much hearing of mu- 
 sic my heels have lost their wings. I don't mean," — 
 he saw her smile, and anticipated a possible comment 
 — "I don't mean that I listen to music with my heels." 
 
 "As most people do." 
 
 213 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Rather let us say that to most people rhythm 
 makes the first appeal." 
 
 She approved the euphemism, and they walked a 
 square in silence, Hope thinking of that other night 
 they were together, when she left him, at the door of 
 her lodgings, with her heart full of resentment. How 
 she had "hated" him! (The quotation marks are the 
 present writer's.) What tears she had wept, once 
 free of his cynical presence, vowing she should never, 
 never forgive his thoughtless sneer, his cruel sar- 
 casm! 
 
 To-night he had been a paragon of amiability. 
 Whether he believed it or not, he had treated her as 
 one destined for great things. He had begged her, 
 during a lull in the Brahms tempest, to play for him, 
 and had complimented the performance with a simple 
 sincerity that elated her beyond measure. He had 
 lent sympathetic approval to all that Mrs. Maybury 
 suggested for her protegee. No one could be more 
 agreeable than Churchill Gray, it seemed, when he set 
 himself to please. Was it possible that sarcasm or 
 cynicism could ever issue from a mouth so tender and 
 winning.? She forgave him his selfish avowal (doubt- 
 less Flora exaggerated it) that the price he paid for 
 what he got from feminine society was too high ; one 
 
 214 
 
A YOUNG GEISPTLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 who spent his gold so prodigally deserved something 
 substantial in return. 
 
 They discoursed of musicians and programmes, 
 commenting on the monotony which the latter exhibit 
 year on year. It appeared to Hope that an artist 
 might play what she personally Hked. Gray was in- 
 clined to demur. 
 
 "An artist struggling for recognition can not af- 
 ford to carry personal prejudices into a concert hall. 
 Take our friend Victor Mabbitt for an example. Mab- 
 bitt aspires to a concert career. This is dependent on 
 a thousand and one lyceums throughout the country, 
 who engage only persons with a reputation for pleas- 
 ing the average audience. Hence Mabbitt plays al- 
 ways to the parquet." 
 
 "But Madame Friedenthal.?" 
 
 "Many years of playing to the parquet has done 
 its work even with Madame Friedenthal: applause is 
 the breath of life to her; to what artist is it not? 
 Technic has become the god of her idolatry. Strange, 
 is it not? that artists should forget that technic is 
 not an end but a means." 
 
 "This, then, is what I have to look forward to, 
 rashly assuming I shall become an artist." 
 
 "As you are to be an artist, you must compromise 
 215 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 between your conscience and the demands of the pub- 
 lic. Be warned in time." 
 
 "I am. Have you any other advice.'' I shall ac- 
 cept it gratefully." 
 
 "I might add this : strive always for the good opin- 
 ion of the connoisseurs. Theirs is the only opinion 
 worth the while, theirs the only esteem that abides to 
 the end." 
 
 "Thank you. I am in the hands of my friends." 
 
 "If I might presume ..." 
 
 "You may." 
 
 "You are likely to have too many friends." 
 
 Words and tone surprised her. 
 
 "My advice, Miss Winston, — ^unasked in this in- 
 stance, — is, make as few friends as possible. Friends 
 are a drain upon one's time and energy ; sacrifice them 
 to your art." 
 
 "That is horribly selfish." 
 
 "Art must be selfish." 
 
 "Would you sacrifice friends who have helped you to 
 rise?" 
 
 "If necessary." 
 
 "You make no exception ?" 
 
 **I can think of no exception." 
 
 "Is that not dangerous advice.?" 
 216 
 
A YOUNG GElfTLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 "If the person to whom it is given be not a genius — 
 yes." 
 
 "Why the distinction?" 
 
 "Because music would gain nothing." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 She did see, and clearly enough. He was thinking, 
 not of her, but of Art. Her he regarded impersonally, 
 as one set apart by destiny for the further glory of 
 Music. If their relations were such as to include the 
 idea of sacrifice, he would sacrifice even her; it was 
 conceivable he would sacrifice himself. It might be 
 heroic, but it did not appeal to her ; she was chilled. 
 
 "Thank you," she said. "I shall take your words 
 to heart." 
 
 They halted before No. 69 Atwood Street. 
 
 "I did not see you at the last Symphony concert," 
 said Hope. 
 
 "I was there." 
 
 "Your seats must be on the right side of the house." 
 
 "On the right side of the house? Oh, yes; on the 
 right side." 
 
 Hope did not see his smile, occupied in opening the 
 house door. She turned and gave him her hand. 
 
 "Good night. I shall remember all your good ad- 
 
 217 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "And exercise your private judgment as to follow- 
 ing it. Good night." 
 
 The door closed after her, and Gray turned back 
 to his own lodgings, a dozen squares south, in a resi- 
 dence of faded gentility. 
 
 Since the wreck of his little fortune, through the 
 folly of young Mathcson, he had been forced to exer- 
 cise a rigid economy. He harbored no ill-will toward 
 Flora's brother; he was not without blame himself, 
 having embarked on a precarious enterprise with his 
 eyes wide open. After all, it was no vast sum, and 
 his tastes were not extravagant. Journalism offered 
 him a living pending a rehabilitation of his worldly 
 estate. 
 
 It was not much of a living, to be sure ; and as the 
 circulation of the Post was small, he had to spread 
 himself over several departments. Fortunately, he 
 was allowed a free hand as musical reviewer, otherwise 
 the position would have been intolerable. For he had 
 no patience with charlatanry, insincerity, or the super- 
 ficial ; the spirit of compromise was not in his nature. 
 
 He had a few friends, and with these he was con- 
 tent. He might have widened his social circle indefi- 
 nitely ; but as he took his critical work more seriously 
 than his publisher or his readers took it, he thought 
 
 218 
 
A YOUNG GENITLEMAN ADVISES 
 
 it wise to make as few friendships as possible. He had 
 similarly advised Miss Winston, though for a differ- 
 ent reason. He knew the game better than she, and 
 he believed that she was in a fair way of wasting valu- 
 able time and energy. Ho believed all he had said 
 to her. And yet . . . 
 
 He lighted the lamp in his severely-furnished lodg- 
 ings, and filled a pipe. 
 
 And yet — had he been altogether disinterested in 
 advising Miss Winston to sacrifice her friends to her 
 art.'' Had he been influenced, in the slightest degree, 
 by the marked attention which Arthur West paid 
 Miss Winston.? Was he, in short, more interested in 
 her as a woman than as a musician.? The thought 
 troubled him ; he really could not answer the question. 
 
 Of course he was not in love ; when one is in love, 
 one is definitely aware of the fact. He harked back 
 to his brief affair with Flora Matheson. That was the 
 nearest he had come to being in love, and he could not 
 recall that the symptoms then were more pronounced 
 than at present. No ; he was not in love ; but the situ- 
 ation was dangerous. Happily, he reflected, he had 
 unwittingly safeguarded himself: in advising Miss 
 Winston, inferentially, to eliminate Arthur West, he 
 had eliminated himself as well. 
 
 219 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 In self-abnegation lay a complete security, from 
 which he might contemplate, unafraid, certain phe- 
 nomena that had power to disturb the equilibrium of 
 his senses ; so long as his lips were sealed he was pro- 
 tected against the possibility of making a fool of him- 
 self. 
 
 The present hour, vibrant with the manifestations 
 of the phenomena alluded to, was peculiarly fitted for 
 dwelling on them in memory. . . . How like a 
 young poplar was her slender girlish figure, how like 
 a woodland river her voice! What fine eyes she had, 
 and how attractively she dressed her hair; the artist 
 in her showed in many ways. Walking homeward with 
 her in the moonlight, he had noted that her side-face 
 was of classic purity. 
 
 The full moon still rode high. Gray extinguished 
 his light and opened the window, by which he sat and 
 smoked until long past midnight. And the humorous 
 upshot of his meditations was: "My words were 
 wasted. She is incapable of sacrificing even a fly." 
 
 While she, w^akef ul in the moonlight, too, was think- 
 ing: "Fortunately for Mr. Churchill Gray, he is in 
 love with a girl who would not sacrifice him for all the 
 art in the world." 
 
 At least one of them was right. 
 220 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 PENUMBRAS OF PROXIMATE EVENTS 
 
 As the eyes of the present writer rest on a well-worn 
 copy of "With Rack and Wheel," he can not help 
 thinking what a very different sort of entertainment 
 Mr. Stanley Arthur Jones would have dished up for 
 the good-natured reader of Princess Hope's biogra- 
 
 Suppose (a thing impossible, but suppose) Hope 
 Winston had been one of Mr. Jones's ethereal heroines, 
 instead of a substantial young woman from the prov- 
 inces. What an exciting life she would have led in 
 the few months following her migration southward! 
 Instead of the unromantic environment in which we 
 have seen her, and the sedate adventures that fell to 
 
 221 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 her lot, she would have passed before us on a highly- 
 colored panorama of palaces and gardens, inns and 
 stage-coaches, lonely highways and deserted chateaux ; 
 instead of the decorous music of strings and wood- 
 wind, her progress would have been accompanied by 
 the stirring music of crossed rapiers, popping mus- 
 kets, jingling spurs and thudding hoofs. Men would 
 have sighed for her, died for her ; perhaps an empire 
 or two would have tottered — who knows? — empires 
 have tottered on as little provocation, in the brave 
 pages of romance. 
 
 To match this, what have we had? The good- 
 natured reader knows. So, premising his consent, 
 which it Is impossible he should refuse, I shall pass 
 lightly over some five months of my heroine's history, 
 briefly indicating such incidents and associations as 
 exerted a formative influence on her swiftly-shaping 
 character. 
 
 Well, then, to begin with, she completely disre- 
 garded Churchill Gray's advice concerning friends, 
 and instead of making as few as possible, made as 
 many ; or perhaps it would be more just to the young 
 lady to say that she made no effort to avoid the many 
 pleasant folk who came her way. Whether she would 
 have acted wisely in pursuing the opposite course I 
 
 222 
 
PENUMBRA'S OF EVENTS 
 
 decline to say; whether she was incapable, as Gray 
 surmised, of sacrificing on Music's altar even a blue- 
 bottle fly, remains to be seen. At present I note that 
 for some five months she lived a most agreeable exist- 
 ence, and was referred to in this or that music lover's 
 drawing-room as the beautiful Miss Winston, the tal- 
 ented Miss Winston, the charming and popular Miss 
 Winston, and (I am happy to add) the modest and re- 
 served Miss Winston. 
 
 When a young person possessing quick wits, humor, 
 and the artistic temperament is suddenly released from 
 the bonds (however tender) of a commonplace con- 
 sanguinity, and precipitated by chance into the so- 
 ciety of men and women who live a strenuous life of 
 culture, it is not remarkable that she should feel an 
 exaggerated pleasure in their company, and think 
 each goose a swan ; nor that she should lack perspec- 
 tive and that nice perception of values which flowers 
 no faster than ourselves. Brought unpreparedly in 
 contact with that for which one's secret soul has hun- 
 gered, there seems no limit to our appetency and our 
 capacity for assimilation. We take in good and bad 
 alike, never doubtful of the one, never certain of the 
 other: Time, the great winnower, will attend to that. 
 So while Hope gathered a great quantity of chaff, 
 
 223 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 some grain was gathered, too, which Is as much as 
 the most of us can say. 
 
 She did not neglect her music. To that she gave 
 each forenoon and a share of each afternoon; and 
 such was her progress, it is enough to note that even 
 Impatient self was satisfied. She attended every con- 
 cert holding promise of enlightenment, and still had 
 time to play at butterfly ; and while it is possible that 
 the hours given to social pleasure might better have 
 gone to the reading of profitable books, her conscience 
 was untroubled, as nineteen's conscience ought to be. 
 
 A pupil of Karl Geist, it was impossible not to make 
 progress. Hope did not know how much time and 
 sympathy he gave to other students ; in her own case 
 the value of his services was out of all proportion to 
 his tuition fee. He instructed her in theory — not by 
 book, but in a way peculiarly his own; in addition 
 (and this was not nominated in the bond), he coached 
 her piano playing, criticizing it phrase by phrase ; he 
 taught her little "tricks" of artistry, the thousand 
 and one small things which, as Mrs. Maybury said, 
 even genius could not wholly anticipate; he played 
 duets with her; he informed and stimulated her in 
 other ways. 
 
 The old-fashioned idea, he told her, was to practise 
 224 
 
PENUMBRAS OF EVENTS 
 
 five hours; the new idea is to practise one hour and 
 think five times as hard. He showed her how, in tak- 
 ing up a new composition for study, to strip it of its 
 details, and f amiharize herself first with the harmonic 
 skeleton; how to seek in each phrase the one indis- 
 pensable note, without which the phrase is meaning- 
 less ; how, by holding the pedal through a tone mass, 
 to give to it a significance lacking in a clearer-cut pre- 
 sentment. 
 
 He would play on his violin a page or so, bidding 
 her note the variety given to the melody; she must 
 never play a phrase twice alike, never exactly repro- 
 duce an effect, however felicitous. It was an excellent 
 idea, he said, always to keep in mind how a violinist 
 would present the melody. Her "hour" in his studio 
 frequently extended to two. 
 
 Since she aspired to play Brahms, he frankly sug- 
 gested that she disregard the methods of the Colossus, 
 and he indicated in detail the technic required to the 
 performance of Brahms, who was first of all a poet. 
 He advised her, above all, to devote herself unflag- 
 gingly to Bach. 
 
 "Bach," he said, "is the music of the future; he 
 is the one immortal." Snatching up his violin, he 
 played a few measures, and cried: "Is there any- 
 
 225 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 thing written to-day more modern ? Is there anything 
 to outHve that passage?" 
 
 Karl Geist, as had been said of him, was not a mu- 
 sician — he was music. Though less than forty, there 
 seemed nothing in music he did not comprehend, and 
 nothing good in it he did not enjoy ; he had no preju- 
 dices. Among musicians the country over he was 
 known and respected ; the public heard little of him. 
 
 Mrs. Maybury, also, instructed and encouraged the 
 neophyte, but neither she nor Geist flattered her, nor 
 expressed a positive belief in her ultimate triumph. 
 "That was pretty well done," Mrs. Maybury would re- 
 mark, at the conclusion of a bit of Bach; or, "You 
 are coming along," Geist would say; and even this 
 small praise was not often forthcoming. Never certain 
 of her own genius, she doubted more often than she 
 believed. The playing of third-rate pianists filled her 
 with despair; should she ever be able to equal their 
 dazzling performances ? What if, after all, she failed 
 of greatness! She never let her mind dwell long on 
 this maddening possibility. 
 
 Aside from the musical progress of our Princess, 
 perhaps the most significant episode in the few months 
 we are passing over was the assiduous court paid to 
 her by Arthur West. It is only fair to the young 
 
 226 
 
PENUMBRAS OF EVENTS 
 
 gentleman to say that toward this, his first serious 
 affair of the heart, he discovered an enthusiasm fully 
 equal to that in which he took up his newest vocal 
 method ; and this was enthusiasm's ultimate word. No 
 possible exception could be taken to the manner of his 
 wooing. It assumed the form of a fluid friendship, in 
 which swam the molecules of a tenderer sentiment, re- 
 quiring for their crystallizing only the magic touch 
 of Circumstance. The neglect of Circumstance to 
 stretch forth a cooperating hand must seem suspicious, 
 when we consider that the young people were much in 
 each other's company. Was Miss Winston aware of 
 the young man's precarious footing on the precipice's 
 brow.? I think likely. Did she enjoy watching his 
 exercises in equilibrium.? I think unlikely. I fancy 
 she was uneasy for him, as you or I would be for some 
 foolish person walking a tight-rope over Niagara. 
 Arthur lost his balance just once: he mentioned some- 
 thing about a temperamental affinity. (You are re- 
 quested not to smile at this; the young lady re- 
 frained. ) Hope met the suggestion with an inquiry as 
 to Arthur's latest vocal method, and learned, as she 
 was prepared to, that the latest was the ideal. 
 
 "We know," explained Arthur, "that the tone is 
 produced by the tension of the vocal cords. As these 
 
 227 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 cords are small, we should give them all the assist- 
 ance possible; so while singing, the whole body must 
 be tense, that all the strain may not come on the vocal 
 cords — or something of that sort." 
 
 "The very method for the statue music in 'Don 
 Juan'," remarked Hope ; and in the amusement which 
 this and kindred suggestions evoked, the dangerous 
 point of temperamental affinity was skirted. 
 
 Over Hope's piano now hung the picture of Brahms 
 that had long stood in the art shop window — a Christ- 
 mas gift, a genuine surprise evoking an exclamation 
 of delight. No card or penciled name of donor was 
 inclosed: the picture was the gift of the same good 
 fairy who supplied concert tickets. These had come 
 in abundance; not only tickets for the Symphony 
 concerts, but for other concerts of significance, and 
 for art exhibitions and lectures. Sometimes they were 
 stamped "Complimentary" ; sometimes there was one, 
 sometimes two, on which occasions Madame Jesurin 
 was invited to go along. When there were two tickets 
 they always called for the parquet seats J 89 and 90 ; 
 and it was a curious circumstance that when only one 
 ticket was sent, J 89 was never occupied. This seat 
 must be sold, for there were concerts when every other 
 chair on the lower floor was occupied. 
 
 228 
 
PENUMBRAS OF EVENTS 
 
 The most plausible theory was that J 89 belonged 
 to the good fairy, who wished to preserve his bounty 
 a secret; and what doubt Hope might have had con- 
 cerning the identity of the good fairy was dispelled 
 one night, when she observed Doctor Erdmann in the 
 line of standers behind the parquet rail. She did not 
 pause, at the time, to reflect that even so disinterest- 
 edly benevolent a gentleman as Doctor Rudolf Erd- 
 mann would hardly stand through a season's concerts 
 in order to hide his kindlj^ light under a bushel; she 
 was impelled toward him with words of gratitude on 
 her lips. He saw her approaching, bowed formally, 
 and, turning abruptly, engaged a gentleman at his 
 side in conversation. The light remained busheled. 
 
 Curled up in her easy-chair, an April morning, 
 Hope's eyes wandered from the vaseful of royal roses 
 (the gift of her discreet adorer) to the picture of 
 Brahms, and her thoughts flew to Churchill Gray, as 
 more than once they had similarly flown. Poor Mr. 
 Gray ! Did he miss the picture and wonder what had 
 become of it? For some months she had seen very lit- 
 tle of Gray. One or two occasions promised a con- 
 versation, but he seemed purposely to decline it. Was 
 he displeased with her because she did not turn ascetic, 
 immure herself in her hermitage, and flog her piano 
 
 229 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 mercilessly? All work and no play makes Jill as dull 
 as Jack. As long as she did not slight her music, 
 what possible harm in playing butterfly out of study 
 hours? what possible good in "sacrificing" agreeable 
 friends, who perhaps were not so intellectual as the 
 critic to the Post, and did not take music quite so seri- 
 ously ? 
 
 She acknowledged having rather overdone of late 
 the role of butterfly. She had been out every night for 
 a week back, to opera, musicale and play ; in each in- 
 stance until a late hour, as supper always followed 
 the entertainment. Last evening, in company with 
 Flora Matheson, Mr. Jones and Arthur, she had 
 gone "slumming," occupying a box in a cheap the- 
 ater famous for its melodrama "thrillers." Toward 
 the close of the performance the theater caught fire, 
 and the box-party executed a hurried exit via Stage- 
 land. As if this were not sufficient excitement for 
 one evening, they visited a Chinese restaurant, and 
 supped on a queer assortment of Eastern dishes ; and 
 to-day Miss Winston was entertaining her first head- 
 ache. Was it the excitement — or the "gamgott" ? 
 
 Atop all this, Mrs. Addison West had planned for 
 her dear young friends, the Misses Matheson and 
 Winston, another strenuous afternoon and evening. 
 
 2S0 
 
PENUMBRA>« OF EVENTS 
 
 This included looking in on the Pekoe Club, dining 
 at a smart cafe, and attending Madame Friedenthal's 
 annual recital. 
 
 "Do butterflies ever have headaches?" wondered 
 Hope, pressing her hands against her temples. 
 
 She glanced languidly about her lodgings. They 
 did not seem so agreeable as when first her eyes rested 
 on them. How out of place Arthur's roses looked ! If 
 flowers have souls, these proud beauties must have felt 
 deeply humiliated. How tawdry the room's furnish- 
 ings in the white light of day! And what a smelly 
 house! — almost every day the ghosts of the boiled 
 cabbages welcomed another of the spookish brethren. 
 She felt sure they distressed Arthur, who, on German 
 or French night, took tea with her and Madame Jesu- 
 rin, sometimes in one apartment, sometimes in the 
 other. And last week, when Doctor Erdmann called 
 (yes; the president of the Colossus actually paid her 
 that honor. He was — er — passing through that part 
 of town) — on that occasion the spectral cabbages held 
 a rout, frisking about the hall and chasing one an- 
 other through cracks and key -holes, so that there was 
 no blinking their unpleasant proximity. She felt no 
 shame of her narrow means ; but she wondered whether 
 one might not live economically in rooms to which one 
 
 231 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 might invite one's female friends, and not feel impelled 
 to throw open the windows. 
 
 How tinny her piano had grown — or was it always 
 so strident- voiced ? Doctor Erdmann had remarked 
 the piano. He sat to it and struck a few chords, and 
 said: "You should have a better instrument, Miss 
 Winston." Her reply : "It does well enough to prac- 
 tise on." His amiable protest : "No piano is too good 
 for you to practise on." The incident closed with his 
 offer to place a "Colossus" piano at her service when- 
 ever she was minded to request it. 
 
 And what a bore Madame Jesurin had become, with 
 her frequent references to her departed spouse (who 
 must have been a miracle of patience) ; her chronic 
 habit of borrowing a cup of sugar, or tea, or some- 
 thing else, and neglecting to return it; her raptures 
 upon everything under heaven, from currant buns to 
 Wagner ; her pretenses to culture, exposed by the most 
 ludicrous "breaks." Decidedly, a change of base would 
 not be unwelcome. 
 
 At this critical juncture Madame Jesurin drifted in 
 with a request for the temporary loan of an egg. 
 Driven to resolution, Hope snatched up her hat and 
 set out for the conservatory, finally to accept the prof- 
 fered services of Doctor Erdmann in selecting a de- 
 
 2S2 
 
PENUMBRA^ OF EVENTS 
 
 sirable boarding-place. As she left the house she met 
 Mrs. Grady, returning from some errand of benevo- 
 lence, and the good-hearted soul glanced at her so 
 fondly that she hesitated. 
 
 If, as Monsieur Maeterlinck tells us, Instinct and 
 Destiny are for ever conferring together, the fateful 
 pair must have exchanged a smile when Hope, con- 
 quering hesitation, went on to the conservatory. Yet, 
 as she drew near to it resolution sickened, and positive 
 misgiving seized her when she boarded the elevator. 
 She would have welcomed any interruption of her pur- 
 pose, however trivial. 
 
 "Third," she said, as the elevator man closed the 
 gate behind his passengers. 
 
 "This is express," he replied, rather less surlily 
 than usual. 
 
 "Let me out then, please," she requested hastily, 
 with a little sigh of relief. 
 
 Instead, the man shot the car to the third floor, and 
 threw the gate open graciously. 
 
 As Hope advanced toward Doctor Erdmann's office, 
 Rhoda Weathers left a descending car and followed 
 her. They halted, face to face, at the door. 
 
 Rhoda, pale of face, tense, laid a hand challeng- 
 ingly on the door-knob, and Hope, her eyes drawn to 
 
 233 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 the hand by the movement, had her third glimpse of 
 the cabochon emerald ring, now on Rhoda's finger. 
 
 They looked into each other's eyes, and for a breath- 
 less moment two souls questioned each other; the one 
 gently, wonderingly, the other clamantly, hostilely. 
 
 Mystified, hurt, and lacking words to break the 
 awkward silence, Hope drooped her head and turned 
 away. 
 
 Her impulse checked by circumstance, she was satis- 
 fied to defer her interview with Doctor Erdmann. As 
 she went slowly down the stairs she reviewed her rela- 
 tions with Rhoda Weathers for some explanation of 
 the latter's attitude toward her in recent weeks, — an 
 attitude that had passed from indifference to coolness, 
 from coolness to unveiled hostility. Only one ex- 
 planation suggested itself. 
 
 Miss Weathers had long enjoyed the distinction of 
 being Professor Geist's favorite pupil, and rumor 
 (with the tongue of Arthur West) reported that he 
 was interested in her in more ways than one. Was 
 Rhoda jealous of Miss Winston's popularity with the 
 teacher? How absurd! 
 
 It would be of no use to question Miss Matheson: 
 Flora did not pretend to understand Rhoda. They 
 possessed nothing in common except the fact that they 
 
 2S4 
 
PENUMBRAS OF EVENTS 
 
 had been college mates at Smith, and came from the 
 same city. 
 
 It is human nature to desire the good opinion of 
 one's acquaintances. To be misunderstood by the least 
 of these is pain. Hope returned to Atwood Street 
 wounded in spirit and perturbed by vague forebodings 
 of distress to come. 
 
 235 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IN WHICH OUR PRINCESS TURNS 
 OVER A NEW LEAP 
 
 As president of the Social Dynamics Club and as 
 composer of innumerable songs, Mrs. Addison West 
 was naturally an honored member of the Pekpe Club, 
 to which (it being her week to prgvide the light re- 
 freshments) she brought a colored maid, the refresh- 
 ments aforesaid and her dear young friends, the Misses 
 Matheson and Winston. 
 
 As we shall tarry at the Pekoe Club less than an 
 hour, a brief reference to its purpose and constituency 
 will suffice. 
 
 The Pekoe Club was made up of clever people who 
 expressed their souls in painting, music, architecture, 
 literature and journalism, or other intellectual voca- 
 
 236 
 
A NEW LEAF 
 
 tion. Eligibility to membership implied having "done 
 something" in one's chosen calling; a net through 
 which sifted, with equal facility, Ernest Penwell, the 
 distinguished novelist, and Atchison S. Fay, the dis- 
 tinguished passenger agent ; Madame Friedenthal, the 
 famous pianist, and "old lady Keith," the famous 
 dowager. 
 
 The Pekoe had no board of management, or by- 
 laws, or even club-room of its own. Its members gath- 
 ered weekly, for mutual appreciation and a cup of 
 tea, in the studio of Raphael Free, on the skylight 
 "octave" of the Beaux Arts Temple. Should you ob- 
 ject that Pekoe is a frivolous name for such a league 
 of intellect, I reply with Charter Member Penwell, who 
 suggested the name, that the light fantastic title of 
 the club served to accentuate its underlying serious- 
 ness of purpose (which was well understood by the 
 members), besides piquing the curiosity of Philistia. 
 
 "If," remarked Penwell quaintly, "Pliilistia ask you, 
 'What is the purpose of the Pekoe Club.?' you an- 
 swer, *To brew an urn — a Grecian um^ — of tea : that 
 is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.' Be- 
 sides, the leaves of Pekoe give tone and perfume to 
 the commonest of teas ; I forbear the simile." 
 
 At four o'clock the studio of Raphael Free was pre- 
 237 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 pared to receive the brotherhood. Not a brush, or 
 palette, or other artist tool was visible ; there was none 
 of that Bohemian disorder which some persons affect 
 to admire. Mrs. West's party was among the first to 
 arrive, as Flora was to pour ; and the girls had oppor- 
 tunity to charge themselves with the atmosphere of 
 the studio, and to admire its really artistic decorations, 
 prior to the influx of the Pekoe brethren. 
 
 Early in the hour Hope found herself seated under 
 an excellent copy of a Frans Hals portrait, in con- 
 versation with Ernest Penwell, whose "works" (she 
 had read one of them) she greatly admired. Penwell 
 told her the names of the club members, and answered 
 all her questions with engaging frankness. 
 
 Yes; it was true that, to become a Pekoite, one 
 must "do something" to distinguish one from the 
 hurrying crowd in the street below. 
 
 "For example: that romantic-looking young man 
 with the brown mustache, leaning over Miss Mathe- 
 son's chair. . . ." 
 
 "Oh, I know Mr. Jones," said Hope. "Tell me, who 
 is the lady in the green and red portiere?" 
 
 "The Marquise de Creme, who conducts the Posfs 
 cosmetic column. She gets all her gowns at the up- 
 holsterer's." 
 
 238 
 
A ne1v leaf 
 
 "And the lady in the pink hat and purple waist? 
 She just gave me a look which said plainly: *What 
 business have you here? Pray, what have you done?' " 
 
 "The pink hat? Oh!" He mentioned the name, 
 adding : " *That singular anomaly, the lady novelist,' 
 who is anything but an anomaly these days." 
 
 "And that serious-faced girl with whom she is talk- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Has published two books, and is hard at work on 
 a third. She rarely takes a holiday of this sort ; she 
 says she can not spare the time from her literary 
 work." 
 
 "Why, she can't be more than twenty !" Hope ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 "Eighteen, I believe. Such industry ! Such serious- 
 ness! Oh dear!" Penwell fetched a sigh from ironic 
 depths. 
 
 "I feel myself dwindling," said Hope, "like Alice 
 when she drank from the magic bottle." 
 
 "Gracious ! let me get you the counteracting cake — 
 and a cup of tea !" Penwell danced away. 
 
 Two ladies halted before Hope, to admire the Frans 
 Hals over her head. Remarked one of the pair: "I 
 think that is Mr. Pree's most original canvas, don't 
 you?" Was it irony? Probably not. 
 
 239 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Hope was observing the pale face of the strenuous 
 3^oung novelist, who could no more spare time to play 
 than Atlas could, and musing: ''She has done some- 
 thing. She does not play the butterfly. She earns 
 her headaches." Hope passed a hand wearily across 
 her forehead. 
 
 Suddenly she became conscious that Churchill Gray 
 was fixedly regarding her. He had been talking with 
 a musical lion from Boston, whom a lady member of 
 the club was proudly displaying. The lion being led 
 away, to roar in another comer. Gray made as if to 
 join Miss Winston; but Pen well returned at the mo- 
 ment with the tea and cake, and Gray joined the little 
 group that circled the Goddess of the Urn. Flora 
 was a great favorite at pouring parties. 
 
 Hope's eyes followed him, and she thought : "What 
 a springy, graceful walk! What a serious, beautiful 
 face! Mr. Jones appears insipid beside him. How 
 can Flora flirt so with that coxcomb !" 
 
 A question from Penwell reminded her of that gen- 
 tleman's existence. 
 
 "Madame Friedenthal?" she murmured. "Oh, yes; 
 I expect to hear her to-night. I understand she is a 
 Pekoite — or should it be Pekonian.^^ Do you see her 
 here often.?" 
 
 240 
 
A NE^ LEAF 
 
 "Very rarely," said Penwell. "She Is another of 
 tliose who can not spare time from their work. At 
 this moment she is probably in bed, resting against 
 the task of the night." 
 
 "And what a pleasant task !" 
 
 "One would think so. Yet I have her private word 
 for it that she gets no pleasure from her music. She 
 is always working, always thinking; hour on hour 
 striving to produce this and that elusive effect. It is 
 pathetic." 
 
 "You don't mean that."- 
 
 "Well, then, I don't," he replied amiably. "No; 
 there is only one path to Parnassus, and there are no 
 tea-gardens along the way. Beware !" he added with 
 exaggerated gravity. 
 
 "I will!" said Hope, and the note of sudden de- 
 cision in her voice brought a quick glance from Pen- 
 well, who was hardly expected to guess that his lightly- 
 spoken word had produced an effect where the earnest 
 adjuration of Churchill Gray had failed. 
 
 But then, five months had passed, and the young 
 lady had a headache. 
 
 After a leisurely dinner, Mrs. Addison West and 
 her dear young friends, accompanied by the junior 
 
 241 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 West and Mr. Jones, proceeded to Apollo Hall, in 
 which a great crowd was gathering. 
 
 "Fuzzj-looking lot, aren't thej?" Arthur remarked 
 to Hope. 
 
 "A lot of interesting faces," she replied. "I feel 
 like asking this one and that: 'Well, what do you 
 play.?»" 
 
 "All the scramblers are here to-night with their 
 Beethoven books and pencils," said Arthur. "They'll 
 all play like Friedenthal to-morrow." 
 
 He nodded to the Jesurin, across the aisle. Madame 
 had come on the good fairy's ticket, which Hope had 
 no use for. 
 
 The hall's seating capacity was soon exhausted, 
 and chairs were placed on the stage, until there re- 
 mained only a small clearing for the piano and a lane 
 for the pianist. 
 
 "What a wonderful gift, the power to draw all these 
 people!" said Hope. "How smiling and happy Ma- 
 dame Friedenthal must be at this moment, if she is 
 peeping through that door." 
 
 "Don't you believe it," said Arthur. "She is keep- 
 ing away from that door, and fidgeting around as 
 nervous as ten witches. It's an awful strain, the hour 
 before a concert, she tells me." 
 
 242 
 
A N E^ LEAF 
 
 "You know Madame Friedenthal personally ?" Hope 
 was interested. 
 
 "Oh, yes." He acknowledged the privilege in a mat- 
 ter-of-fact way. 
 
 *'Is she interesting? Of course she is." 
 
 "Well," — Arthur pursed his lips and wrinkled his 
 brow, — "with one brilliant exception, I can't say I 
 really enjoy the society of musical geniuses." 
 
 "Oh, every one enjoys Karl Geist's society," she 
 smiled. 
 
 Arthur acknowledged the parry with a grimace. 
 "Would you like to meet Madame Friedenthal.?" 
 
 "I can not tell you how much." 
 
 "We'll go behind after the concert. You won't have 
 a chance to say any more than 'I enjoyed your play- 
 ing so much.' It's a regular bargain-counter rush, 
 and usually there are fifteen or twenty relations all 
 trying to kiss her at once. But maybe you'll be able 
 to squeeze in a hand-shake. Eil Eir he cried mock- 
 ingly, "there's Church Gray beside Madame Jesurin. 
 I love Beethoven. Don't you, Miss Winston .?" 
 
 Hope hid a convulsed face in her programme. 
 
 "I perfectly adore Brahms!" the irreverent youth 
 pursued. "Brahms is so deep, so intellectual ! What 
 luck some people have in drawing seats." 
 
 243 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Madame Jesurin, for example," said Hope, who 
 was thinking that but for Mrs. West's Httle party she 
 might be sitting beside Churchill Gray, in place of 
 Madame. 
 
 Arthur's reply was smothered in a burst of ap- 
 plause. Madame Friedenthal had entered and was 
 tripping down the lane. 
 
 The programme made no great demand on the in- 
 telligence of the audience. It comprised a Beethoven 
 Sonata ; "Funeral March," Chopin (by request) ; 
 Valse, Chopin; Etude, Moszkowski (by request); 
 Etudes-Symphoniques, Schumann; "A la Bien- 
 Aimee," Schiitt (by request) ; Etude, Henselt (by 
 request) ; Gavotte and Musette, D' Albert (by re- 
 quest) ; and a Liszt Polonaise, which no one had 
 thought to request. 
 
 An ideal programme, which you, my dear Miss Ru- 
 bato, who aim to please, would do well to study. Al- 
 ways begin with Bach and Beethoven, to which every- 
 body will hsten politely, and conclude with Liszt, to 
 which everybody will listen delightedly; Chopin and 
 Schumann group in the middle, an 'owski or two on 
 each side, and you are "all set," as the printers say. 
 
 While Madame Friedenthal played the Beethoven 
 Sonata, Hope gave her mind so completely to the mu- 
 
 244 
 
A N^W LEAF 
 
 sic, that Flora whispered to Mr. Jones : "Look at Miss 
 Winston : she's in a trance." Yet, in spite of her ab- 
 sorption, she was thinking how differently the pianist 
 had impressed her five months before. Madame Fried- 
 enthal had remained the same; it was Hope who had 
 changed. Now she was able to give music her atten- 
 tion, whereas formerly she gave it only her emotions ; 
 then she listened ecstatically, now esthetically. And 
 in this mental activity, which denied not a single sense 
 impression, she found a keener, more abiding pleasure 
 than in that unconditional surrender of the intellect 
 which, not long ago, the first chord of a symphony 
 compelled. 
 
 Her appreciation of the pianist increased corre- 
 spondingly. Madame appeared less wonderful, but 
 more admirable. The present Beethoven Sonata was 
 one which Hope was able to give a good account of; 
 but how paltry seemed her own performance beside 
 Madame Friedenthal's perfect artistry; scarcely a 
 measure that could be set against it. That technic! 
 was it inexplicable? That technic which concealed it- 
 self, which could give an effect of artless simplicity 
 to a turn or trill ; which could take half a dozen tones 
 and so color them that one almost cried out in delight ; 
 was that genius alone.? No; it was genius plus work, 
 
 245 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 unremitting toil. This mature woman, who ranked 
 among the few great pianists of the world, had worked 
 and still worked as Hope never had done. That sim- 
 ple little turn of five tones had cost her as much time 
 and thought as Hope often gave to an entire compo- 
 sition ; that octave scale passage, wliich she glided over 
 so lightly, represented days of drudgery. 
 
 Hope's enjoyment of the final number was sub- 
 merged by a wave of humiliation and self-censure. 
 Her unworthiness to' aspire to stand beside Madame 
 Friedenthal stood naked. Gray was right, Penwell 
 was right: there is only one path to Parnassus, and 
 there are no tea-gardens along the way. She, who 
 had fancied herself well up the slope, was playing but- 
 terfly among the flowers at the foot of it. 
 
 "A penny for your thoughts," whispered Arthur 
 West. 
 
 She started, then looked at him as if she were for 
 the first time setting eyes on him. 
 
 "You would repent the bargain," she said quietly. 
 
 He felt the change in her manner, and, discreetly 
 holding his tongue, began to gather up her wraps. 
 The slight restraint upon their amity was removed 
 by a young woman behind them, who remarked to her 
 companion: "Miss Lynch played at a concert for 
 
 246 
 
A ne;sv leaf 
 
 charity where the tickets were a hundred dollars each. 
 She plays cross-hand pieces." 
 
 Hope flashed a mirthful glance at Arthur, and the 
 mercurial youth beamed again. 
 
 "Shall we go behind and congratulate Madame 
 Friedenthal ?" he suggested. 
 
 She signified her readiness, and they joined the little 
 crowd of worshipers behind-scenes. 
 
 Viewed at close range, Madame Friedenthal was 
 seen to be a tense little woman, with a most interesting 
 face, now pale and drawn from the strain of the per- 
 formance. She was very short-sighted, and looked 
 peeringly into each new face that came before her. As 
 Arthur predicted, there was opportunity only to 
 "squeeze in a hand-shake," but that was something. 
 Hope was thrilled by the touch of the steely fingers, 
 eloquent beyond words. She stammered something 
 about "a privilege and an inspiration," then gave 
 place to a pushing female relative of Madame Frieden- 
 thal's, who embraced the pianist cooingly. 
 
 When they rejoined Mrs. West's little i>arty, supper 
 was proposed by Mr. Jones, but Miss Winston begged 
 to be excused, pleading a headache. Arthur sum- 
 moned a carriage, and as he accompanied her to it he 
 remarked : "Shall we see you to-morrow night .f^" 
 
 247 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Thank you, Arthur, but I think not. My butter- 
 fly existence ends to-night." 
 
 "The deuce!" he exclaimed. "You're not going to 
 take the veil.?" 
 
 "I am going to turn over a new leaf." 
 
 "Don't. Old things are best : old wine, old friends, 
 old leaves . . ." 
 
 "I must not idle any more. I must devote all my 
 time to music." 
 
 "But" — dejectedly — "what is to become of me? 
 Am I never to see you .'*" 
 
 "Shall you continue your language lessons?" 
 
 **To be sure," he cried, brightening. "Henceforth, 
 excepting Tuesday and Friday, my calendar is blank 
 paper." 
 
 "What a wicked waste of time! Good night, Ar- 
 thur." 
 
 "Adieu, most beautiful of hermits." 
 
 He closed the carriage door, and returned discon- 
 solate to his friends. 
 
 248 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Princess Hope threw open the window, and spring 
 came in, as it entered the hut of Hunding. 
 
 The air was clean and sweet, with a tang of stirring 
 mold. The sky was cloudless, the sunlight golden; 
 the south breathed faintly. A lilac bush across the 
 way yielded its odor to the drawing sun ; the buds of a 
 maple before the house disclosed, almost perceptibly, 
 their plicate green. 
 
 We say one morning, "It is spring !" And thoughts 
 wake as wake the maple buds; and all that is sweet 
 within us exhales, as odor from the lilac. 
 
 The smell of earth sent Hope's thoughts flying 
 northward; to a land where spring comes slowly, as 
 
 249 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 in the land of Christabel. In her happy valley, though 
 May Day was within cry, the spell of the frost, she 
 knew, was not yet exorcised: the snow yet lingered in 
 the coverts of the gorge ; ice edged the wayward little 
 river and lurked in the swamp-land. Thither Spring, 
 with laggard steps, was journeying. Her guise in 
 towns was not her guise in woods, but the voice was 
 one — faintly, alluringly, insistently calling. 
 
 Hope shut her piano, and put away the leaves of 
 Mendelssohn and Wagner. These but told of spring : 
 Spring itself was out of doors. The day was Sunday ; 
 all the town was abroad ; the parks were filled with mer- 
 rymakers. 
 
 Through one of these oases wandered Hope, sapful 
 as the greening trees, throbbing with life, stirred by 
 strange sweet longings — amorphous, unrealized de- 
 sires. Her senses were gladdened by the sunshine, by 
 earthy odors, by the red of the robin's breast, the blue 
 of the bluebird's wing, the green of the springing 
 grass, the silver of the still lagoon. An unwonted 
 tenderness merged her with the crowd that streamed 
 along the park walks and spread over the lawns. She 
 smiled upon a shabby old gentleman sitting disconso- 
 late on a bench, and he revived perceptibly. She 
 picked up a bawling urchin who had fallen from his 
 
 250 
 
"LOVE IN T'HE VALLEY" 
 
 tricycle, and sent him dry-eyed upon his way. She 
 bought a taffied apple for a ragged little chick who 
 was looking wistfully at the vender's wares ; and pick- 
 ing up another tot, with a "Don't you want to ride, 
 too?" she set her on the back of a donkey magnificently 
 caparisoned. 
 
 Soon she was too happy longer to remain in and of 
 the crowd. Her exaltation demanded seclusion, scarcely 
 to be found in a city park on Sunday : one might as 
 well seek covert on the boulevard. She set her face 
 homeward, when suddenly she descried a young man 
 stretched at length upon a slope above an arm of the 
 lagoon. One hand, thrust through his hair, supported 
 his head, the other held an open book. 
 
 Surely an interesting book. He read steadily, un- 
 disturbed even by a noisy boating party that passed 
 below him. Presently he put down the book, and sat 
 up to light a cigarette. As he glanced around he ob- 
 served a young woman standing near; an exuberant 
 young woman, who had restrained an impulse to steal 
 up behind him, clap her hands over his eyes, and cry 
 out: "Guess who.?" 
 
 '^Please don't get up," said Hope : "I will sit down 
 instead. The grass is dry V* 
 
 "Perfectly. The sun is hot as midsummer's." 
 251 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Gray spread out his light overcoat, and Hope ac- 
 cepted a corner of it. "Now, please light your cigar- 
 ette," she said. "Do you come here often.?" 
 
 "Rarely; never on Sundays — until to-day. The 
 spring drove me out. The feel of the grass, even this 
 sophisticated sward, is refreshing." 
 
 "You look tired. You have been working too hard." 
 
 "I think not. I shall be going away before long." 
 
 "To your north country .?" 
 
 "Yes. The music season is about done for. You, 
 too, will be going north, I suppose." 
 
 "I am in no need of a vacation." 
 
 "You are looking well." 
 
 He added to himself that never had she looked so 
 radiant as on this April morning, so like a young god- 
 dess of the vernal season. 
 
 "If I felt any better I should be unable to contain 
 myself," she averred truthfully. 
 
 "A summer in town will test your vivacity," he 
 warned her, "and you will have a dull time of it : your 
 friends will be away." 
 
 "I shall not miss them. Friends are a drain on one's 
 time and energy. A wise man said that." 
 
 Was she mocking him ? Her eyes were very mirth- 
 ful. Gray's face shadowed. "The wise man knows 
 
 252 
 
"LOVE IN -rHE VALLEY" 
 
 himself to be a fool," he quoted, and looked across the 
 lagoon. 
 
 "And the fool doth think she is wise," she re- 
 joined, paralleling his gaze. 
 
 Gray turned his steady eyes on her face. It grew 
 warm under the scrutiny, and her heart throbbed as it 
 throbbed that night in Music Hall when first their 
 glances met. 
 
 "How are your studies progressing?" he asked. 
 
 "Very well. Do you know, my small affairs have 
 always monopolized our conversations." 
 
 "That is as it should be, I think." 
 
 "And I think not. You have never told me a thing 
 about yourself. Won't you begin now ?" 
 
 "There is nothing to tell," he answered, his eyes 
 still on her face. 
 
 "But there must be," she insisted, and so positively 
 that both laughed, she somewhat constrainedly. For 
 all at once she knew that she loved the man beside her, 
 that she always should love him, and that the most 
 trivial item of his past, the smallest plan or promise of 
 his future, was precious to her. 
 
 "There must be," she repeated tremulously. "You 
 have done things and thought things; you have dis- 
 likes and preferences. . . ." 
 
 25S 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 *'My favorite gem is the diamond; my favorite 
 flower, the double nasturtium ; my favorite poet, Owen 
 Meredith — " The hurt look in her eyes stopped 
 him. 
 
 "Some one told me you were writing a play," she 
 said. 
 
 "A poor thing, but mine own." 
 
 "Won't you tell me about that?" 
 
 "I am not yet able to tell myself about it. It is 
 still in the nebulous stage." 
 
 "Is it a comedy or a tragedy.?" 
 
 "A comedy — ^which, with 'the death of a dear 
 friend, would go near to make a man look sad.' " 
 
 "You are provokingly uncommunicative . 
 except on one subject — your north country. Since 
 you told me about your Lake of Dreams I have 
 wondered often how it looks." 
 
 "You know as well as I." 
 
 "Perhaps our mental images agree. I can see on 
 the south shore a tiny pine-covered promontory, slop- 
 ing gently to the water's edge — ^just the place for 
 your camp." 
 
 Gray smiled. "I hope to find just such a spot, 
 though I doubt the pine ; more likely birch and balsam. 
 I shall send you a description of it." 
 
 254 
 
"LOVE IN THE VALLEY" 
 
 "Will you? ... I shall try not to be disap- 
 pointed if you forget." 
 
 "I do not forget so easily. Besides, was it not you 
 who gave the lake its name?" 
 
 "Subject to your approval." 
 
 "No other name is now possible — except, perhaps, 
 Lake Hope." 
 
 This, his first pronouncement of her Christian 
 name, produced a sweet disorder in her senses. When 
 she could trust herself to speak again, she said: 
 
 "May I see the book you are reading ?" 
 
 He gave it to her. 
 
 " 'Poems' by George Meredith. You mentioned 
 Owen." 
 
 "On second thought I prefer George." 
 
 "I have read one or two of his books. Do you con- 
 sider him the greatest English novelist?" 
 
 "I should not assert that. But I get more out of 
 him." 
 
 "You ought to know : you are a critic." 
 
 "Oh," — a shrug, "I don't pretend to be a critic ; I 
 am too impressionistic." 
 
 "There are impressionists and critics, then?" 
 
 "And enraptured amateurs." 
 
 She turned the leaves of the book. 
 255 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "I suppose this is difficult reading," she said with 
 some hesitation. 
 
 "Difficulties are desired. There comes a time when 
 the obvious no longer satisfies." 
 
 "I suppose so. . . . What does this mean.?" 
 She read a few lines, and added: "Descriptive notes 
 by Doctor Dudelsack might make it clear." Then she 
 put the book in his hands, saying: "Please read me 
 your favorite poem." 
 
 "It is rather too long," said Gray ; "but I will read 
 a stanza from another poem. Do you fancy this .? 
 
 *' 'Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows 
 
 Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon. 
 No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder: 
 
 Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon. 
 Deals she an unkindness_, 'tis but her rapid measure. 
 
 Even as in a dance ; and her smile can heal no less : 
 Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with 
 hailstones 
 
 Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless.* " 
 
 While he read Hope thought: "What pretty hair 
 he has !" and wished she might stretch out a hand 
 and smooth it. That being out of the question, slie 
 furtively stroked the coat he had spread for her; it 
 was part of him. 
 
 256 
 
** Please read mt; your favorite poem " P^ge 2^6 
 
"LOVE IN "FHE VALLEY" 
 
 "Andante cantabile," was her comment when he 
 looked up from the page. "And who was the heartless 
 She?" 
 
 "A rustic maiden. The poem is titled 'Love In the 
 VaUey'." 
 
 "Love In the Valley," she repeated. "What magic 
 there is in certain words — valley, for one." 
 
 "Sesame, for another," he suggested. 
 
 "And Camelot." 
 
 "And Samarcand, 'that name of names.' " 
 
 She thrilled to his voice, her cup of exaltation brim- 
 ming. 
 
 He passed to the following page, saying: "This 
 is my favorite stanza. For absolute beauty I know 
 of nothing in English that surpasses it : 
 
 " 'Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twilight. 
 
 Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's brim, 
 Rounding ou thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark, 
 
 Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him. 
 Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet. 
 
 Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain showers. 
 Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever 
 
 Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers.' ** 
 
 "It is very beautiful," murmured Hope unsteadily. 
 He shifted to a more comfortable position, and his 
 257 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 coat-sleeve brushed her arm. At the contact she drew 
 back, frightened, trembhng. She felt as one who, 
 standing on a high place, has desire to spring into the 
 void. Had he thrown down the book at that moment 
 and held out his arms, she would have made the leap. 
 Instead, he passed to another page, and read: 
 
 ** *A wind sways the pines. 
 
 And below 
 Not a breath of wild air; 
 Still as the mosses that glow 
 On the flooring and over the lines 
 Of the roots here and there. 
 The pine-tree drops its dead; 
 They are quiet, as under the sea. 
 Overhead, overhead 
 Rushes life in a race. 
 As the clouds the clouds chase; 
 
 And we go. 
 And we drop like the fruits of the tree. 
 
 Even we. 
 
 Even so.'* '* 
 
 He misinterpreted her deep-drawn breath. The 
 moment of passion had spent itself, the danger was 
 by. She smiled — moist-eyed, but inwardly controlled 
 and outwardly calm. 
 
 "It is beautiful as the music of Brahms," she said. 
 
 "They are not unlike," he agreed; "and I think I 
 258 
 
"LOVE IN^HE VALLEY" 
 
 should add another — Browning. . . . Would you 
 like to take the book?" 
 
 "Thank you, yes. And — I think I will walk a bit 
 now." 
 
 He sprang up and gave her a hand. 
 
 That night, sometime between midnight and dawn, 
 Princess Hope woke from a beautiful dream with a 
 name on her lips; a dream of two in a valley — ^twi- 
 light, rose-flush, the lark above the flowers. 
 
 She put out a hand in the dark, and, taking a book 
 from a stand beside the bed, she laid it against her 
 throat. 
 
 259 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 CONTAINING THE SUBSTANCE OF 
 S E V E E. A li LETTERS 
 
 Hope had finished her weekly letter to her mother, 
 and was composing another for Alice Winston's de- 
 lectation. 
 
 This, like all her communications to her little sister, 
 took the form of a fairy tale, and related the ad- 
 ventures of a young person named Dolores, who, after 
 traveling east of the sun and west of the moon and 
 north of the polar star, came unto the kingdom of 
 Heart's Desire, where dwelt the handsomest, the most 
 amiable prince in all the world. Dolores fell instantly'- 
 in love with him, which was a piece of ill luck, for the 
 Prince was already loved by Princess Radia, of his 
 court, who was ever so much more attractive than 
 
 260 
 
SEVERAL. LETTERS 
 
 Dolores ; besides, the astrologers had foretold that he 
 would wed Princess Radia, and they would live hap- 
 pily ever afterward. While Dolores was lamenting 
 this sad state of affairs, for which nobody in par- 
 ticular was to blame, an old woman suddenly ap- 
 peared before her, and asked: "Why do you weep, 
 my child?" "I weep," replied Dolores, "because the 
 Prince of the Heart of Gold is to wed the beautiful 
 Princess Radia." "Be of good cheer," said the old 
 woman; "that is easily prevented. I am a powerful 
 fairy, and am disposed to help you ; for one day, when 
 I was very thirsty, you gave me a cup of water with 
 your own pretty hands, little thinking that your kind 
 deed would bring you good luck." "Alas!" said 
 Dolores, "I fear there is nothing you can do to help 
 me." "Tut! tut!" said the fairy. "I wiU change 
 Princess Radia into a mouse, or an owl, or anything 
 else you please; that will settle /i^r." But Dolores 
 shook her head. "Oh, no," said she ; "I am very fond 
 of Princess Radia, and not for the world would I 
 have anything happen to her. I am afraid you 
 can not be of any assistance." "Pshaw!" returned 
 the fairy. "All is fair in love. Suppose, then, that I 
 change the Prince into a swineherd. After you have 
 married him I can change him back again." "Oh, 
 
 261 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 dear, no !" cried Dolores. "I would not have him the 
 least bit different from what he now is. Really, there 
 is nothing you can do to mend matters." "Bosh!" 
 exclaimed the fairy impatiently. "I have it! — I will 
 change you into the most beautiful princess in all the 
 world. Every day you will grow prettier ; every time 
 you open your mouth a piece of gold will fall out; 
 and the Prince will marry you on sight." But Dolores 
 a third time shook her head. "Thank you very much," 
 she said, "but I believe I would rather remain as I 
 am. One should not sacrifice one's individuality even 
 to wed a prince." "Oh, very well," grumbled the 
 fairy. "If I can not change one thing into another 
 my fairy occupation is gone, and I might as well go 
 with it." Saying which she promptly vanished, like 
 all unappreciated opportunities. . , . This tale 
 teaches us, children, that we should give a cup of 
 water to every thirsty old lady we meet; also, that 
 there are some things which can not be helped, even by 
 fairies. 
 
 Hope smiled when she finished the tale, sighed when 
 she sealed the letter. It was an outlet for her own 
 emotions, and it would have no other than a surface 
 meaning for her little sister. There are many pages 
 writ with heart's blood which possess no deeper sig- 
 
 262 
 
SEVERA/L LETTERS 
 
 nificance for the casual reader. Nor was it purposed 
 that they should. 
 
 Madame Jesurin, coming in a little later with a 
 wonderful tale about Mazdaznan, a new religious cult, 
 found Miss Winston engrossed in a book. 
 
 "Something new, Schdtzchen?" she queried. If it 
 were, she intended borrowing it. 
 
 " Toems' by George Meredith," Hope replied, 
 closing the book, but with a finger between the leaves. 
 
 *^Ja, Meredith !" exclaimed Madame. "I love Mere- 
 dith! 'Lucile' is grand. And 'Aux Itahens!' she 
 quoted the opening stanza. 
 
 Hope thought it quite unnecessary to enlighten her. 
 "And how did you fancy Razdaz — What did you say 
 it was .?" she asked. 
 
 "Mazdaznan. It means sun worship, but it teaches 
 us to worship ourselves, for we are greater than the 
 sun." 
 
 "A self-respecting creed, at all events." 
 
 "Gewiss. We possess the accumulated intelligence 
 of all things that ever existed. Being everything, 
 all we need is control, and this we get from Mazdaz- 
 nan." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "All one has to do is to live simply and breathe 
 263 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 properly; so few people breathe as they should. If 
 one is weary or worried, a few breaths properly 
 drawn will revive or soothe. It is very interesting 
 and simple." 
 
 Hope remarked that their friend Mr. West would 
 likely be interested in Mazdaznan: any new breath- 
 ing system challenged his attention. She reopened 
 her book, and Madame, taking the hint (and a sauce- 
 pan which she transiently required), returned to her 
 own apartments. 
 
 "Which poem was Churchill Gray's favorite .'"'Hope 
 questioned, as she idled through the pages. Perhaps 
 "The Day of the Daughter of Hades" ; that was one 
 of the long ones, and there were many wonderful pas- 
 sages in it ; such as — 
 
 "He saw through leaves 
 The Mother and Daughter meet. 
 They stood by the chariot-wheel. 
 Embraced, very tall, most like 
 Fellow poplars, wind-taken, that reel 
 Down their shivering columns and strike 
 Head to head, crossing throats." 
 
 She wished she knew for certain: she would com- 
 mit the poem to memory, though it were twice as long 
 as a Bach fugue. A sweet desire possessed her to 
 
 264 
 
SEVERA-t LETTERS 
 
 like the things he liked, to make his gods her gods, 
 to look out on the world through his eyes. Ambition 
 fell away ; faded the picture so often in her mind — a 
 crowded concert hall, the audience in a tumult, a gray- 
 haired conductor taking a young woman by the hand 
 to congratulate her. Another picture took its place : 
 two in a valley, hand in hand by the river's brim, 
 watching the rose-flush die and listening to the voice 
 of the rapids. 
 
 Her day-dream was interrupted by the postman. 
 He brought three letters. The scrawling superscrip- 
 tion of one disclosed the hand of Farmer Winston; 
 another was from West, the third from Flora. In 
 this order they were opened. 
 
 Farmer Winston's communication was character- 
 istically brief and unexpectedly uncheerful. He ex- 
 pressed gratification over his daughter's progress in 
 her studies, but could hold out no hope of financial 
 support beyond the conservatory year. 
 
 "Mother has been bad off this winter," he wrote; 
 and he added (parenthetically, as perhaps the idea 
 had occurred to him) : "Been working too hard, 
 likely." 
 
 So there was a doctor's score to settle. Then the 
 gray mare had done for herself in a barbed-wire 
 
 265 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 fence, and a promising timber trade had fallen 
 through. Altogether — 
 
 "Poor mother!" sighed Hope. "Why will she 
 overdo?" 
 
 Alas! mothers are much the same the world over. 
 They will overdo. 
 
 Memory flung back, unblurred by time or tears, 
 Gray's scornful speech: "Teachers of music! . , . 
 They ought to be back on the farm, helping their 
 mothers with the housework." 
 
 A teacher of music ! was that to be her career? Her 
 heart sickened, and she put the hateful thought 
 aside, realizing that the day was near when it could 
 no longer be blinked. 
 
 Arthur's letter was all sunshine. Would Miss Wins- 
 ton, the charming hermit, forgo scourging herself 
 with Bach and Brahms long enough to accompany 
 Mr. West to a May Night entertainment. "Stanley 
 Jones," he wrote, "proposes to celebrate the seventy- 
 fifth thousand of his latest book with a literary cos- 
 tume party, or something of that sort. He is going 
 to put a few of his royalties back into circulation, and 
 he ought to be encouraged." 
 
 Flora's letter contained the gentle reproach: 
 "Where have you been for a fortnight back? I have 
 
 266 
 
SEVERArr LETTERS 
 
 been under the weather, and so could not look you up 
 personally, but Arthur tells me you are declining all 
 invitations and killing yourself with work. Please 
 make an exception of the May party. As Arthur has 
 probably told you, Mr. Jones is getting up a liter'y- 
 paintery-music masquerade, and it promises good fun. 
 Stanley (oh, I beg his pardon — the Sieur de Jones) 
 has requested me to appear as Queen of the May, and 
 is himself going as Literature. We both thought you 
 would be very fetching, dearie, as the Heroine of Ro- 
 mance, maid-of-honor to the Queen. Nobody is ex- 
 pected to provide a costume; Mr. Jones requests the 
 privilege of attending to that, and he promises to 
 make the French court look like a poverty party. 
 
 "P. S. — I have some good news for you. You re- 
 member my telling you last winter about one of 
 brother Fred's crazy business ventures, which carried 
 off his and Churchill Gray's money. Well, Fred writes 
 me from somewhere in Utah that the entei'prise has 
 panned out just as he said it would when he went into 
 it, and that he and Churchill will get back their money 
 and a lot more with it. Aren't you glad? — for Mr. 
 Gray, of course. It's always the unexpected that hap- 
 pens, isn't it.?" 
 
 Not always, my dear Miss Matheson, We occasion- 
 267 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 ally discount the future. There are some things, not 
 making for our happiness, which we feel must happen 
 some day ; we dread them, yet we are not sorry when 
 they come along and we can put them behind us. 
 
 The inevitable it is, not the unexpected, that always 
 happens. It was inevitable that the barrier between 
 Churchill Gray and Flora Matheson should some day 
 be removed, since it was a mere matter of money, 
 which neither esteemed beyond human happiness. 
 Thus reasoned Princess Hope. 
 
 Yes; she was glad for Mr. Gray Above all else, 
 she desired his happiness. It was a simple thing to 
 say, and say again and yet again. Yet it was the 
 sum of her thought. 
 
 Madame Jesurin, saucepan in hand, knocked at the 
 door of the smaller room. There was no response, 
 and, the door being ajar, she entered and hung the 
 utensil on its hook. Passing out, she glanced into the 
 other apartment, and observed her young friend lying 
 on the sofa, her face in her hands. A letter had flut- 
 tered to the floor. 
 
 Madame shut the door softly. 
 
 268 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE QUEEN S MAYING 
 
 Sumptuous as are dramatic productions in our own 
 times — to the last degree of extravagance, one would 
 say — who has not wished that he might witness one of 
 the masques which flourished in Ben Jonson's day, 
 composed for princes and by princes played? — who, 
 I mean, that is familiar with the history of those 
 gorgeous and poetic entertainments. I confess I am 
 not, being dependent for information upon Stanley 
 Arthur Jones, ransacker of the past, dweller in dusty 
 yesterdays. I have Mr. Jones's word for it that many 
 of the masques cost the exhibitors as large a sum as 
 a New York bachelor will spend on a small dinner at 
 the Mammon Hotel ; that nothing in our time can be 
 
 269 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 compared with them for magnificence of mise en scene, 
 for poetic plan, invention, fancy, and exquisite art 
 in the acting. No doubt Mr. Jones has the docu- 
 ments backing up this claim. 
 
 Casting about for some original and princely plan 
 whereby to entertain his host of friends, the author 
 of "With Rack and Wheel" hit upon the idea of an 
 Elizabethan masque. He announced that, represent- 
 ing Literature, he should write a fanciful little 
 something, and Painting, Architecture and Music were 
 invited to cooperate, as was their privilege in the day 
 of rare Ben. These arts should be represented by Mr. 
 Jones's friends in the Pekoe Club and out of it, and 
 they were requested to spare no expense in the matter 
 of costume, Mr. Jones standing the entire magnificent 
 treat. 
 
 The "fanciful little something" was written along 
 lines suggested by Ernest Penwell, whose counsel the 
 author solicited. "Since it is to celebrate one of the 
 triumphs of letters," said Penwell, "let it be a literary 
 masque. Thus, let the principal role, which you will 
 play, be Literature, fantastically costumed as a Best- 
 Seller, edition de luxe — doublet of crushed-Levant or 
 limp-calf, hand-woven silk hose, and other things to 
 match." 
 
 270 
 
**THE QUEE>i^'S MAYING" 
 
 "Egad, a quaint conceit," murmured the author, 
 flattered by the phrase, "triumph of letters." 
 
 "Then, a Queen of the May, to give the necessary 
 touch of royalty — or royalties. Now, that superb 
 Miss Matheson, I should say, would symbolize your 
 royalties capitally." 
 
 Mr. Jones blushed with pleasure. 
 
 "Put me down," said Penwell, "as a Worst-Seller ; 
 or stay, cast me as publisher: this is Ercles' vein, a 
 part to tear an author in ; I have always yearned for 
 the role." 
 
 "Excellent, i' faith," said Jones. 
 
 "Then you might have a Hero of Romance, and a 
 Heroine of Romance ; a couple of bravos, 'Sdeath and 
 Gadzooks respectively; a duke or two, an innkeeper, 
 etcetera, etcetera, as your Elizabethan fancy sug- 
 gests. For properties, a literary hack, in which the 
 Hero and Heroine elope, a Pierian Spring, a Well of 
 English Undefiled, and what not. Lastly, a good title 
 for the masque. . . ." 
 
 "I had thought of *The Queen's Maying,' " replied 
 Jones. 
 
 "The very thing !" Penwell declared. 
 
 And so it came to pass that on May Night the large 
 hall on the top floor of the Beaux Arts Temple con- 
 
 271 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 tained the most brilliant spectacle imaginable. The 
 French court was nowhere. 
 
 The reader, peeping over my shoulder a+ the en- 
 chanting picture, will recognize some of the figures. 
 
 That tall, splendidly-dressed gentleman in the 
 crushed-Levant doublet is, of course. Literature: no 
 handsomer hero graced the court of England's vestal 
 queen. Bess, herself, who was no great beauty, would 
 have cut but a sorry figure beside her impersonator, 
 Flora Matheson, to whom Literature is at this mo- 
 ment making obeisance. 
 
 That stately lady with the ample ruff is Mrs. Addi- 
 son West, personating "The Spacious Times of Queen 
 Elizabeth." Her estimable husband is Master Geof- 
 frey Chaucer, the genius of "The Well of English 
 Undefiled," — ^who was not, as I recall it, an Eliza- 
 bethan. But he is not in the masque. 
 
 That merry gentleman with the queer long coat, 
 "half of yellow and half of red," blowing on a pipe 
 and replying "Rats!" to all questions, is the pied 
 musician of Hamelin, Victor Mabbitt; and the effer- 
 vescent gentleman at "The Well" is Karl Geist, 
 symbolizing (for Mr. Jones's benefit) "A Toccata of 
 Galuppi's." "Dry, very dry," he declares. "When 
 does the well open.?" 
 
 272 
 
"THE QUEEN'S MAYING" 
 
 The jolly little man in a white apron, with a stage 
 fowl in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, is 
 that familiar figure in Literature, the Innkeeper ( Pro- 
 fessor Jan Van Wart). And yonder is Doctor Dudel- 
 sack, personating Master Hughes of Saxe-Gotha, 
 "with brow ruled like a score," the lines and notes of 
 which promise to vanish in perspiration. 
 
 Lastly (for it is not necessary further to extend 
 our acquaintance), the Hero and Heroine of Romance. 
 Arthur West, as an Elizabethan Sea Rover, cuts a 
 gallant figure in a doublet of blue brocade, "or some- 
 thing of that sort," with hose to match and a great 
 lace frill about his neck. Mistress Winston, as maid- 
 of-honor to Queen Bess, is a vision of Elizabethan 
 loveliness. Her skirt is of gris d'ete; her bodice is 
 amarante embroidered with pearls ; her manches a jigo 
 (I think that is what Mr. Jones termed them: his eru- 
 dition is marvelous) are amarante slashed with jaune 
 paille; pearls edge her fan-shaped collarette ; and her 
 coiffure, a towering mass of chestnut hair, reaches an 
 apex in ornaments of pearls and gold. 
 
 The Heroine of Romance is almost feverishly gay; 
 never before have her friends known her so ebullient. 
 **I am out of drawing, I know," she confesses to Flora. 
 "My role calls for as many tears as smiles," 
 
 27$ 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "At court, my child," replies the Queen, "one must 
 mask one's real emotions, and present a merry face 
 though the heart be breaking." 
 
 "Soothly, soothly," remarks Literature, who is 
 hovering near. "Smiles dispersed through tears, as 
 sunlight through a shower, give us the rainbow. Arch 
 of Hope, 'that tints to-morrow with prophetic ray.' " 
 
 In truth, one who closely watched the Heroine of 
 Romance throughout the evening (need I mention 
 that watcher's name.?) observed, not infrequently, 
 flashes of melancholy unassumed ; moments of detach- 
 ment when she vanished from the picture — or, as it 
 seemed to the enamored Hero, when the picture fell 
 away from Tier, She appeared to have "something on 
 her mind," removing her at once from the character 
 of Heroine of Romance, which has nothing to do with 
 mind. 
 
 Of the performance of "The Queen's Maying," I 
 shall not speak in detail. Literature, Painting, Music 
 and Architecture gave excellent accounts of them- 
 selves, comparing favorably, I have no doubt, with 
 the work of Ben Jonson, Inigo Jones, and other 
 Elizabethan masque producers: the latter Jones, at 
 all events, was satisfied. Our chief business this even- 
 ing is not to witness the masque, but to keep our eye 
 
 %1^ 
 
"THE QUEEN'S MAYING" 
 
 on a certain youthful pair and harken to a colloquy 
 between th^m. 
 
 Well, then, the masque was done, the supper eaten, 
 and the dancing begun. Those that did not wish to 
 dance were scattered through the neighboring studios. 
 The Hero of Romance, animated by a sudden resolu- 
 tion (and possibly fortified by a draft from the Pierian 
 Spring), went in search of the Heroine of Romance. 
 He found her in the studio of Raphael Pree, with 
 Qtieen Elizabeth. Her Majesty left them together. 
 
 "Dear Mistress Winston," the Hero murmured, "I 
 have long waited a favoring moment to have speech 
 with thee upon a matter very near my heart." 
 
 Gallantly spoken, in the high-flown language that 
 prevailed throughout the evening ; yet a little vibrato 
 in the young gentleman's voice put Mistress Winston 
 on her guard. 
 
 "Methinks, good gentleman," she answered, "the 
 place, if not the hour, is but ill-chosen for a reveal- 
 ment so personal. Pray you avoid it." 
 
 "Yet must I speak, dear lady ; for to-morrow I ad- 
 venture forth to westering suns and sapphire waters, 
 to the King of Spain his seas, to palm and tamarind- 
 fringed shores and crystal bays, and other things too 
 numerous to set down in good sooth or certitude." 
 
 275 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Mistress Winston smiled: "Thy destination, dear 
 sir, is nebulous as is the Milky Way." 
 
 "Ay, lady ; my charts are blank paper ; but I hear 
 the hum of Clotho's wheel, and methinks she spins 
 moats and crocodiles, pike and cutlass, and red, red 
 gold." 
 
 "My prayers attend thee, sweet and gentle sir." 
 
 "I would have more than thy prayers, dear mis- 
 tress," he declared, possessing himself of her hand. 
 
 She did not offer to withdraw it. Was she not the 
 Heroine of Romance .^^ Three centuries protected her. 
 
 "My prayers, good gentleman," she answered 
 softly, "are all I have to give thee." 
 
 The Hero of Romance was visibly distressed. 
 
 " 'Tis then as I feared," he said ; "thy heart is 
 given elsewhere." 
 
 "To Music, sweet sir." 
 
 The Hero of Romance was visibly relieved. He 
 did not fear the rivalry of Music: Music was not a 
 man. Besides, had not he, too, sworn allegiance to the 
 art.f^ Might not they serve Music together.? Two 
 souls were surely better than one. He intimated as 
 much. 
 
 She shook her head : "A divided allegiance." 
 
 "A dual allegiance," he protested. 
 276 
 
.*-^?Sf*'3f^ 
 
 ** Sweet lady, I ask but to serve thee " Page 277 
 
"THE QUEElf'S MAYING" 
 
 "Dear friend," she returned gently, "I can say no 
 more." Her eyes were moist. 
 
 He drew in a steadying breath of Sixteenth Cen- 
 tury atmosphere. 
 
 "Sweet lady," he said humbly, "I ask but to serve 
 thee — ^thee and Music. Music is an ungenerous despot, 
 who provides not for the most loyal subject. I have 
 lands and riches : these I offer thee ; with these thou 
 mayst conquer the world . . ." 
 
 " 'Or something of that sort,' " she interrupted 
 flippantly, though her heart was brimming. 
 
 He laughed boyishly, in the Twentieth Century. 
 
 "Say yes — do say yes, Hope," he pleaded. 
 
 She looked into his eager eyes, and by the flashes 
 of love's lightning glimpsed a golden future. Temp- 
 tation swayed her. "Dear boy !" rose to her lips. But 
 the words went unsaid, and she drew her hand away. 
 The Heroine of Romance was herself again. 
 
 "Good gentleman, you are out of character," she 
 rallied him. 
 
 He cleared three centuries, landing lightly on his 
 feet. 
 
 "A plight your gentleman bucaneer oft finds him- 
 self in," he answered, with a shrug; "he hath little 
 character to begin with, and that a bad one." 
 
 277 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 She suggested that the times were somewhat to 
 blame. 
 
 "Ay, lady." He touched the frill about his neck. 
 "These be ruff days." 
 
 "Atrocious !" exclaimed Mistress Winston, and both 
 laughed unconstrainedly. 
 
 The Spacious Times of Queen EHzabeth glided into 
 the studio. 
 
 "I came to say good night to Hope," she said 
 sweetly, and took the young girl's hands. "We have 
 seen very little of you lately, my dear." 
 
 "I have been uncommonly industrious," said Hope. 
 "I must make the best of the last few weeks. There 
 will be time enough to rest afterward." 
 
 The shadow that crossed her face was observe^ by 
 son, if not by mother. 
 
 "I hope to see you at vacation time, at our country 
 place," said Mrs. West. "Of course you will wish to 
 make a visit home ; but after that, if you can arrange 
 to spend a few weeks with us, we shall be happy to 
 entertain you. I know it will augment Arthur's hap- 
 piness," she added, with a significance that discon- 
 certed her son. "Good night, my children." 
 
 With which benediction the lady floated away. The 
 children followed. 
 
 278 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A RHAPSODY AND A FAREWELL 
 
 Karl Geist's studio was unpretentious as himself. 
 It contained a piano, three chairs, one of which was 
 stacked with scores, a writing-table, a music-rack, and 
 a small clock: these were essentials. Decorations: a 
 square of carpet and a portrait of Sarasate, Geist's 
 master. Doubtful decorations: a sprinkle of tobacco 
 and ashes all about, and a half-dozen pipes out of 
 commission, their stems snapped or bitten partly 
 through. 
 
 At four in the afternoon Geist was engaged in 
 copying a string quartette. As the little clock tinkled 
 the hour he pushed his work aside, and glanced at the 
 door, as if expecting the most punctual of pupils. A 
 
 279 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 minute passed ; he picked up his pen. Ten more min- 
 utes went by ; then came a hurried knocking, and Miss 
 Winston entered, somewhat out of breath. 
 
 "Tardy for the first time," said Geist, taking her 
 exercise book and music-roll, while she removed her 
 gloves and jacket. 
 
 "I am sorry," said Hope. "I have been moving to- 
 day, and the expressman was behindhand." 
 
 "So. Have you deserted the north side.?" 
 
 "Yes ; I am now at Two-ten Park View Boulevard, 
 only a few minutes' walk from here. I shall have no 
 excuse for being tardy again." 
 
 Geist looked up from the exercise book. "What 
 number did you say .?" 
 
 "Two hundred and ten. . . . Do you know 
 the house.?" 
 
 "I seem to recall an old-fashioned brownstone front, 
 a bit run down at the heel." 
 
 "That describes it. But my rooms are uncommonly 
 well furnished, and the meals are promising. Well!" 
 She drew a chair to the writing-table. 
 
 "I don't like that bass progression," said the 
 teacher, laying finger on a measure of the day's lesson. 
 "Diatonic would be better. Or you might lower the 
 sixth and pass into the dominant." 
 
 280 
 
A RHAPSODY AND A FAREWELL 
 
 So they took up the business of the hour, further 
 reference to which would scarcely prove entertaining 
 to the reader unfamiliar with "collateral sevenths" 
 and kindred delightful mysteries. 
 
 The harmony lesson over, Hope opened her music- 
 roll. "I am working on a Brahms Rhapsody," she 
 said. "Will you hear me play it.f*" 
 
 Geist took the music. "So; the G-minor. Miss 
 Weathers also has this rhapsody in hand. She will 
 be in presently, to go over it with me." 
 
 "May I remain?" 
 
 "I was about to suggest that each play, and criti- 
 cize the other's performance." 
 
 Geist put the music aside, and entertained Miss 
 Winston with an amusing account of a soulful female 
 who had waited on him that forenoon, to suggest that 
 he set certain of her poems to music. She had dozens 
 and dozens of them; the only question was, which 
 style did he prefer, "the heroic, the ragtime, or the 
 sentimental" ? He expressed a leaning toward the he- 
 roic; whereupon she gave him half a dozen manu- 
 scripts to try his hand on. This was the opening line 
 of one of them : "/ was called home on a telegram.** 
 
 "Himmeir* declared Geist; "even Schubert could 
 have done nothing with such a line." 
 
 281 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 They were chuckling over the soulful lady's hero- 
 ics when Rhoda Weathers appeared. 
 
 Rhoda's "Good afternoon" was lacking in warmth. 
 She walked to the window aS she drew oif her gloves, 
 expecting Miss Winston to depart. 
 
 "Miss Winston is here for the same purpose as 
 yourself," Geist informed her. "She, too, is working 
 on the G-minor Rhapsody." 
 
 Rhoda turned her big eyes wonderingly upon the 
 other girl. 
 
 "Our tastes seem to be much alike," Hope said, 
 smiling. 
 
 The words or the smile struck fire in Rhoda's eyes, 
 which blazed with the resentment she had exhibited at 
 their last encounter. Her lips moved, but no words 
 issued. The antagonism was unobserved by Geist, 
 who was walking about the room, tuning his violin. 
 
 "You will each play, and criticize the other," he 
 said. 
 
 Rhoda's lips joined tightly. The "difficult child" 
 appeared uncommonly difficult this afternoon, inex- 
 plicably sullen. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Hope, turning to Geist, "Miss 
 Weathers would prefer to play for you alone." 
 
 "I think not," he answered quietly. "Miss Weath- 
 282 
 
A RHAPSODY Xn D A FAREWELL 
 
 ers prefers what her teacher prefers. Begin, Miss 
 Winston." 
 
 Hope went obediently to the piano, and began the 
 rhapsody. 
 
 Geist stopped her after a few measures, to suggest 
 that she double the theme with her thumb ; and again 
 to inquire : "Why don't you accent more ?" 
 
 "It sounded jerky to me," she replied. 
 
 "Jerky? Well — ^if you like that word. I prefer 
 accent. Go on." 
 
 The rhapsody proceeded, without further interrup- 
 tion, to its tumultuous close. 
 
 Geist turned to Rhoda: "Well, Miss Weathers, 
 what is your criticism.'*" 
 
 The musician in Rhoda answered frankly: "I 
 thought it was beautifully played." 
 
 "It was flawless, then," said Geist ironically. 
 "There is no room for improvement." 
 
 ^'The contrasts might be more marked." 
 
 "Might be? Should be." He turned to Hope. 
 "Light and shade, light and shade. Miss Winston; 
 not a diffused light throughout. Repose, too, is lack- 
 ing : you must acquire repose ; and one hour's expres- 
 sionless practice with that end in view is better than 
 pounding away for hours espressivo. This rhapsody 
 
 283 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 is not difficult technically, so far as the mere getting 
 over the keys is concerned; but it is difficult to play 
 artistically, and you are some distance from that. We 
 shall take it up again next week." 
 
 "Thank you," Hope said humbly, and gave place 
 to Miss Weathers. 
 
 The latter proceeded to amaze her listeners ; not by 
 the excellence of her playing, though this was of a 
 high order, but by her strange interpretation of the 
 master's music. It was not a rhapsody she played, 
 but a threnody — a personal narrative, a subjective 
 tour de force. It affected Hope cruelly, as music never 
 before had affected her. She glanced at Geist, and 
 saw that his brow was contracted. Tragedy was in 
 the room. 
 
 The performance ended in a crashing discord and 
 a sob from the pianist. Hope crossed swiftly and put 
 an arm soothingly about Rhoda's shoulders. That 
 was the only criticism of the performance. 
 
 Geist turned to the window, and stood looking into 
 the street. . . . He heard a slight stir behind 
 him; then the door shut softly. He was alone. The 
 two girls had gone away together. 
 
 Half an hour later Churchill Gray entered the 
 studio. 
 
 284 
 
A RHAPSODY AND A FAREWELL 
 
 "I dropped in to say good-by for a while," he an- 
 nounced. "I'm off for the woods. Better hang up 
 your fiddle and your bow, Uncle Karl, and come 
 along." 
 
 "Uncle Karl" declined to consider a proposition so 
 unseasonable. "When do you leave.?" he asked. 
 - "To-night." 
 
 "To-night?" Geist repeated thoughtfully. "Have 
 a pipe." 
 
 "My dear Karl, your pipes are all unsmokable, and 
 you know it." 
 
 "Get me some new ones, then." 
 
 "What would be the use.? You would ruin them in 
 a week. I'll warrant your friends lock up all their 
 good pipes when they expect a call from you." . 
 
 "Can't say. Mine is not a suspicious nature. . . . 
 So you leave to-night.?" 
 
 "At ten of the clock." 
 
 "Trunk gone.?" 
 
 "My pack-sacks are in the baggage room ; my bark 
 canoe is on the shore, awaiting me. I shall be gone 
 three months — perhaps longer." 
 
 "Wait till the conservatory year closes, and I'll go 
 with you. You invited me once." 
 
 "The invitation holds good. I make an exception in 
 285 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 your favor, for which I hope you are properly grate- 
 ful. Join me if you will, and when you can. You will 
 find me on the shore, both hands stretched in welcome." 
 
 Geist took up his violin and played a few measures. 
 "Recognize that.?" he queried. 
 
 "Sonata by one Brahms, D-minor — ^my favorite." 
 
 "I am going to play it with Mrs. Maybury to-mor- 
 row night. Stay and hear it." 
 
 "No." Gray smiled. "Not even to hear Josef Hof- 
 mann run a scale. You see, nothing can detain me. 
 The spring and the forest are calling : all other music 
 is as sounding brass or a tinkling triangle." 
 
 Geist put down his violin and began to dig out the 
 most promising of his pipes. "Sorry you're clearing 
 out so suddenly ; I wanted to have a talk with you." 
 
 "My time is yours till ten. Fire away." 
 
 Geist lighted his impossible pipe and puifed mood- 
 ily at it, 
 
 "You appear uncommonly thoughtful to-day, not 
 to say gloomy," Gray observed. "What's on your 
 mind, Karlchen?" 
 
 "The beautiful Miss Winston — for one thing." 
 
 "A charming incubus." Gray, surprised, looked 
 keenly at the musician. "Others are similarly af- 
 flicted," he remarked carelessly. 
 
 286 
 
A RHAPSODY AND A FAREWELL 
 
 Geist hitched his chair closer to his friend's. "I 
 don't Hke the attentions a certain person is paying to 
 the girl," he said earnestly. 
 
 "I dare say each of her numerous admirers feels 
 that way about it." 
 
 "Her reputation is at stake." 
 
 "No scandal, I hope." 
 
 "There might be." 
 
 "It's a bit early in her career for that. Later a 
 scandal or two would not be without advertising 
 value." 
 
 "I am not deceived by your pretended cynicism." 
 
 "Discerning Karlchen !" 
 
 "The matter is serious," rejoined Geist, with a flash 
 of irritation. "The girl is as innocent and unsuspi- 
 cious as a child, and the man is a damned scoundrel. 
 Somebody should warn her." 
 
 "Who but her guide, philosopher and friend, Karl 
 Geist.?" 
 
 The musician flushed. "I disclaim any such privi- 
 lege. Some one closer to her should speak the word." 
 He looked hard at Gray. 
 
 "My dear Karl, you flatter me. I assure you I am 
 not in the young lady's confidence. Your pipe is out, 
 by the way." 
 
 287 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Geist broke three matches before he succeeded in 
 rehghting it. 
 
 "The young lady's frequent references to you have 
 led me to believe otherwise," he said. "I don't know 
 why you should conceal your interest in her." 
 
 "I have no reason to conceal my interest in Miss 
 Winston," Gray answered slowly. "I believe she will 
 bring much glory to her art and herself. My rela- 
 tions with her, however, are too tenuous to warrant 
 my setting up as a mentor in her private affairs. Why 
 don't you take Arthur West into your confidence.'^ 
 No one, I am sure, is closer to Miss Winston." 
 
 "Pshaw! I don't believe she gives him a serious 
 thought. Arthur is a nice young chap, but he is 
 hardly her style." 
 
 "Indeed! I had been expecting an announcement." 
 
 Gray's reserve showed signs of melting, and Geist, 
 observing the change in his friend's manner, smiled 
 faintly. 
 
 "What do you know about the damned scoundrel 
 aforesaid.?" pursued Gray. 
 
 "Nothing — positive; that is why I hesitate. By 
 Godlif I did know . . ." 
 
 Geist sprang up and began pacing the room, an 
 ugly look on his face; at which Gray marveled. His 
 
 288 
 
A RHAPSODY ""AND A FAREWELL 
 
 friend's interest in Miss Winston seemed explicable on 
 one ground only. 
 
 "A fellow feeling," he remarked dryly, "should 
 make us wondrous cautious. Suppose you consult 
 with Flora Matheson. You or I, Karl, would make a 
 botch of so delicate a disclosure. Women manage 
 these things much better." 
 
 "I'll consider it," Geist replied shortly. "Where 
 shall you be during the next few weeks ?" 
 
 "I intend to camp a month on the shore, to toughen 
 my flabby tissues against a rough expedition into the 
 interior." 
 
 ''^Would a letter reach you ?^^ 
 
 "It might. Send it to Ledge, care of Charley 
 Ericsson. I shall drop you a line before the forest 
 swallows me." 
 
 "I may have some news to send you." 
 
 "I warn you I'll light my pipe with it. . . . By 
 the way, here is a little something to remind you of 
 my existence." Gray laid a small package on the 
 table. "And now, come to dinner with me." 
 
 "Can't. I have some work to do. But I may show 
 up at the train." 
 
 "In case you don't, I shall say good-by now." 
 
 The men clasped hands warmly. 
 289 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Good-by, Church," said Geist. "A joyful summer 
 to you. And don't get too far away ; leave the trail 
 open behind you." 
 
 "I shall scatter breadcrumbs along the way, for the 
 birds to eat. Good-by, Karlchen, and Heaven bless 
 you !" 
 
 "So long, old man," returned the other fervently. 
 He bit through the stem of his pipe, and the bowl fell 
 to the floor. 
 
 Gray laughed, and closed the door behind him. 
 
 "Dear old sphinx!" muttered Geist; and picking 
 up his violin, he relieved his feelings with a page or 
 two of Hubay's "Diabolical Scherzo." 
 
 Presently his eyes fell on the package Gray had 
 left. He opened it and drew forth a beautiful English 
 brier pipe, with three extra mouthpieces. 
 
 290 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 IN WHICH, AMONG OTHEE THINGS, MA- 
 DAME JESURIN MAKES AN IN- 
 TERESTING DISCOVERY 
 
 Madame Jesurin was sincerely sad when Hope 
 Winston departed from Atwood Street. She had be- 
 come greatly attached to the girl, and had profited 
 by the acquaintance in more ways than one. So it 
 was with a little shriek of delight that, one showery 
 afternoon, she fell upon Hope in a corridor of the 
 Art Museum. They had been separated a full week. 
 
 "What joy, Herzhldttchen, to see you again!" ex- 
 claimed the Countess. "We have missed you so ! Mrs. 
 Grady is quite inconsolable." 
 
 "I was thinking of you this morning," said Hope. 
 "Two tickets came for the Symphony concert — the 
 
 291 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 last of the season, you know. Would you like one of 
 them?" 
 
 Natilrlich. Madame welcomed the opportunity to 
 spend another evening with her young friend, quite 
 aside from the pleasure of listening to the music. 
 And how sad to think there would be no more concerts 
 for five months! How should they contrive to exist 
 without them! What a dull world this would be but 
 for music — and painting: let us not forget painting. 
 
 They were drifting through the galleries. 
 
 "My favorite picture," remarked Madame, point- 
 ing out- a large nude on the facing wall. "Such 
 drawing! Such color! It is wonderful! I love 
 Bouguereau !" 
 
 Miss Winston dismissed the canvas with one con- 
 temptuous glance. Churchill Gray had remarked of it : 
 "It is anatomy, not art. I always feel ashamed when I 
 see that picture." 
 
 Hope recalled pensively the afternoon (how long 
 ago it seemed ! ) when Gray walked with her through 
 the Museum. Absorption, he told her, was the best 
 way to study a picture, and he indicated the canvases 
 best worth absorbing, in his opinion. "Memorize a few 
 of the great ones," he said, "and you will have a cri- 
 terion by which to determine false and true." 
 
 292 
 
A DISCOVERY 
 
 She drew Madame Jesurin's attention to a land- 
 scape by Daubigny. 
 
 ''That is Mr. Gray's favorite picture," she re- 
 marked, with a touch of pride in her voice. 
 
 "Grand!" exclaimed the Countess, peering at the 
 name-plate. "I love Daubigny. He is one of the Bar- 
 bican school." 
 
 "I have looked at that picture so long and so often, 
 that I can shut my eyes and bring back every bit of 
 it," said Hope dreamily. 
 
 "Mr. Gray is a charming gentleman," Madame de- 
 clared pointedly. Miss Winston turned away to ad- 
 mire another picture. 
 
 They moved along, from gallery to gallery, and 
 Hope was much impressed by the sum and variety of 
 Madame's art information. It was a grab-bag in- 
 formation : one never could say what she would fish up 
 next. For example, she paused to admire a copy of "a 
 sweet Corelli." 
 
 "Oh, does Corelli painty too.?" Hope inquired in- 
 nocently. 
 
 "0 du mein Gott! a tongue slip!" cried Madame, 
 laughing. "I should have said Correggio." 
 
 Hope remarked that the slip was quite natural: 
 both names began with a C. 
 
 293 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 They separated, agreeing to meet again, at eight 
 o'clock, in the vestibule of Music Hall ; and Hope pro- 
 ceeded to the conservatory, for her last "lesson" in 
 the Studio of the Soul. 
 
 Of all the musical pretenders with whom she had 
 been brought in contact she liked best Jan Van Wart. 
 Others were pompously assertive, irritatingly dull, 
 complacently incompetent; Van Wart was a joy. 
 Whether justly or not, she gave him credit for tak- 
 ing himself, at bottom, unseriously; so when she 
 laughed at his impersonations of the music masters, 
 she felt that she was laughing with him, and not at 
 him. 
 
 She considered his Chopin impersonation the best 
 fun. As Richard Wagner, he was apt to be tedious, 
 with his disquisitions on politics and philosophy. 
 When he counterfeited Beethoven his deafness and 
 short temper precluded any sort of conversation. On 
 Liszt days he was given to taking the student's hand 
 and speaking whole volumes in folio with his eyes; 
 though it was only fair to say that he never carried 
 the role of the susceptible Abbe beyond certain limits 
 of discretion. 
 
 One easily guessed the present day's impersonation : 
 the cloudy sky, the intermittent downpour, presaged 
 
 294 
 
DISCOVERY 
 
 the melancholy Pole. Thus, when Hope entered the 
 Studio of the Soul, Van Wart was gazing pensively 
 at a small portrait of George Sand, and the air of the 
 dimly-lighted room was murmurous with his sighs. 
 The rain plashed rhythmically against the window- 
 pane, "tears of Heaven falling on his heart." 
 
 He was recalling, one surmised, that dismal, stormy 
 night on the Island of Majorka. Greorge and Maurice 
 had gone to Palma, to purchase such prosaic but 
 necessary things as butter and eggs and a pound of 
 cheese; and thinking of the dangers that environed 
 them, Chopin was reduced to a state of numb despair. 
 At sight of Hope, Van Wart exclaimed, with a wan- 
 dering air and in a strange voice: "Ah, I was sure 
 that you were dead!" She made no reply, but sat 
 down quietly at the piano and played the "Raindrop" 
 prelude in D-flat, while the reembodied Chopin, in the 
 depths of his easy chair, wept silently. 
 
 As the prelude drew to its close, the rain ceased 
 beating on the pane, and when the last note died away 
 in the soulful silence the sun broke through the clouds 
 and dispelled the studio's gloom. The effect on Van 
 Wart was instant : his depression vanished ; he bounced 
 up like a rubber ball, his round face wreathed in 
 smiles. 
 
 295 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 *'You played that prelude beautifully !" he cried, in 
 genuine appreciation. "Don't run away," he added, 
 as she reached for her music-roll; "no more students 
 will be in to-day. Won't you sit down ? Take this big 
 chair." 
 
 She accepted it, and Van Wart, receiving permis- 
 sion, lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Well, the musical jig is up, for a few blessed 
 months," he remarked. "Aren't you glad.f^" 
 
 "I don't know," said Hope. "I dare say a rest will 
 do me good." 
 
 "You will be coming back in the fall, I suppose .f^" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "I hope I may be able to. I am not sure." 
 
 "It would be a great pity if you dropped out, as 
 so many of them do," Van Wart said seriously. "I 
 have watched your progress with a great deal of in- 
 terest. You have made remarkable strides. I have 
 always enjoyed your recitations, and that is saying a 
 great deal." 
 
 She replied that higher praise was not to be ex- 
 pected, and they chatted half an hour or more. Van 
 Wart had a fund of musical stories, and he told them 
 well. He could talk, also, on other things than music : 
 he was very fond of Matthew Arnold; he was in- 
 
 296 
 
A DISCOVERY 
 
 tensely interested* in Arctic exploration; his hobby 
 was trout fishing, and he tied his own flies. Jan Van 
 Wart, when he chose to be himself, was excellent com- 
 pany. Miss Winston's "I hope I shall see you again, 
 Professor," was said in all sincerity. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when she left the con- 
 servatory, and as she had some shopping to do, and 
 dinner to dispose of, she was a quarter-hour late in 
 joining Madame Jesurin in Music Hall. 
 
 "Fortunately we have our seats and can go right to 
 them," said Hope, as she slipped in just before the 
 inner doors were closed. 
 
 People who held regular seats for the Symphony 
 series did not trouble the ushers to indicate them. As 
 Miss Winston was practically a season-ticket holder, 
 she waved the attache aside, as usual, and tripped 
 down the aisle, followed by Madame Jesurin. To her 
 surprise, J 89 and 90 were already taken. 
 
 She looked so hard at the interlopers, a lady and 
 gentleman, that the gentleman referred to his seat 
 checks for assurance that he was not in error. Hope, 
 for her part, glanced at the bits of pasteboard in her 
 hand, and discovered that they represented parquet 
 chairs N 61 and 62. She retreated in confusion, fol- 
 lowed by the amused glance of the occupant of J 89. 
 
 297 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The new seats were as good as the old ; but why the 
 change? 
 
 "It Is certain they are regular seats," said the 
 Countess. 
 
 "Or were until to-night," amended Hope. 
 
 To herself Madame remarked: "I will solve the 
 mystery during intermission." But she said nothing 
 to her young friend about her plan ; she was not sure 
 Miss Winston would approve it. 
 
 The concert began, and Hope gave strict attention. 
 It was the last of the series, and might be the last she 
 should hear for years ; the reflection made every note 
 precious. And it was such a programme as she wished 
 to remember : a Bach suite, a Handel aria, Beethoven's 
 Sixth Symphony, the final scene from "Gotterdam- 
 merung," two arias from "Die Meistersinger" and the 
 Prelude to that incomparable opera. 
 
 How brief the Symphony seemed ! Regretfully she 
 heard each movement draw to a close. . . . And 
 now more than half of the programme was done ; there 
 remained only the Wagner numbers. 
 
 Madame Jesurin rose for the intermission before 
 Herr Herschel left the stage, and, remarking that she 
 wished to see a friend on very Important business, she 
 hurried away. Hope, quite willing to be left alone, 
 
 298 
 
A DISCOVERY 
 
 followed slowly to the foyer. Here the first familiar 
 faces she saw were those of Miss Matheson and Karl 
 Geist, and she halted to observe Flora, as more than 
 one person was doing. 
 
 Always good to look upon, Miss Matheson, fetch- 
 ingly gowned in green, was to-night more superb than 
 ever before; and she seemed redundantly happy. 
 Geist, too, was in high spirits, and the pair were 
 laughing merrily over some remark of the musician's. 
 It was he who first glimpsed Miss Winston, and he 
 waved a hand of recognition. Flora did more: she 
 hastened to Hope, and put an arm about her waist. 
 
 "Congratulate me, dearie," she whispered, and held 
 up her left hand. A diamond glittered on the en- 
 gagement finger. 
 
 "I do, I do. Flora, dear!" said Hope, her heart in 
 her voice. "You deserve a world of happiness." 
 
 "No more than some one else I know," replied Flora 
 archly. 
 
 "I am glad, truly glad, for him," Hope whispered. 
 "You — you are looking very beautiful to-night. Flora 
 — and very happy." 
 
 "Come and see me to-morrow morning, and hear 
 the details. I must run along now." With a parting 
 squeeze of affection she went her radiant way. 
 
 299 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Madame Jesurin was waiting to pounce upon Hope, 
 and did so the instant Flora left her. 
 
 "Schdtzchen! Schdtzchen!" she cried, her eyes 
 snapping with excitement, ^^nun ist alles Mar: your 
 good fairy is Mr. Gray !" 
 
 This disclosure, so swiftly following Flora's, threw 
 "Schdtzchen'* into cruel bewilderment. 
 
 "I — I don't understand," she said, passing a hand 
 over her eyes. 
 
 Madame was bursting with the explanation. 
 
 "The seats are Post seats. They go each week to 
 Mr. Gray." 
 
 "But I — who — ^how do you know.?" 
 
 "I asked the man in the box office." 
 
 "How could you !" exclaimed Hope, amazed at the 
 audacity. 
 
 *'Achy I did not ask him directly, but invented a 
 story about the seats, and so found out." 
 
 Madame was gleeful over her own cleverness, but 
 as her young friend did not share her delight, she 
 added soberly: "I thought, Liebchen, you wished to 
 know." 
 
 "Why, yes ... I wished to know," repeated 
 Hope, still bewildered. And now that she knew, she 
 wished Madame Jesurin a thousand miles away. 
 
 aoo 
 
A D I St: O VERY 
 
 They went back to their seats, but Hope heard the 
 music as in a dream; her mind was a woeful tangle. 
 Little by little she unraveled the snarl of her thoughts, 
 and drew a few threads clear. 
 
 Thread One: The Symphony Orchestra gave two 
 concerts weekly. The first of these Churchill Gray 
 attended, perforce, in a critical capacity; on Satur- 
 day night he attended for pleasure, or remained 
 away. If he came, he retained one of his tickets, and 
 perhaps exchanged it for a seat in some other part of 
 the hall ; possibly, if the house were full, he stood up. 
 If he spent the evening elsewhere. Miss Winston re- 
 ceived two tickets. He had been unable, for some rea- 
 son, to send the regular seats for the last concert, but 
 had provided two others. 
 
 Thread Two: The picture of Brahms had also 
 come from Gray ; likewise a number of books on music 
 and musicians, reviews of which she had observed in 
 the Post, Gray had taken pains to keep his benefac- 
 tions a secret, but he had not reckoned on Madame 
 Amelia Jesurin. 
 
 Thread Three: Gray was going to marry Flora 
 Matheson, and Hope Winston was the most sadly glad 
 and the most miserably gay young woman in all the 
 world. What music could better match her mood than 
 
 -801 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Siegfried's "Funeral March" and Walther's "Song of 
 Spring." 
 
 O happy, happy Flora! Do you realize the full 
 measure of your great good fortune? Are you (I 
 should be the last to question it, for I love you truly, 
 Flora, dear) — are you quite worthy of the love of 
 Churchill Gray, dearest and sweetest of men, Prince 
 of the Heart of Gold? Pray that you are and ever 
 shall be ; and I wish you both a world of joy. 
 
 "Come and see me to-morrow morning and hear the 
 details.^' Oh, no, no ; that would be torture ! If Flora 
 knew, if Flora only knew ! But Flora, happily, knows 
 nothing about it. No ; the details will keep, preserved 
 in their own sugar. 
 
 Karl Geist overtook Miss fWinston at the street 
 comer. 
 
 "Are you walking home?" he inquired; and as she 
 was, he gave himself the pleasure of joining her. 
 
 "I suppose Flora told you the joyful news," he re- 
 marked casually. 
 
 "Yes.'' 
 
 "Were you surprised ?" 
 
 "Oh, no ; they have known each other a long time." 
 
 "So? I gathered from Jones that the acquaintance 
 was comparatively recent." 
 
 302 
 
A DISCOVERY 
 
 "Flora IS better authority, don't you think?" ven- 
 tured Hope. 
 
 "Well, perhaps so. Good enough, at all events. It 
 may be that Jones wished to convey the idea of a 
 quick conquest. , . , Well, they are nicely 
 matched, and — 
 
 " 'Noch ist die schone, die hluhende Zeit, 
 Noch sind die Tage der Rosen'' " — 
 
 Geist sang softly. 
 
 tlope made no comment. Stanley Arthur Jones in- 
 terested her less than ever. Flora had flirted with him 
 madly ; possibly there was method in it. 
 
 "I did not see Mr. Gray at the concert." 
 
 "Gray.?" Geist gave her a curious side-glance. 
 "Gray left for the woods last night." 
 
 Gone ! and she might never see him again ! 
 
 "I was telling Flora a good joke on our friend 
 West," said Geist, after a short silence. "Arthur was 
 complaining to Victor Mabbitt that he seemed to sing 
 worse instead of better, wasn't any nearer the right 
 method than ever. 'Oh, keep a stiff upper lip,' said 
 Mabbitt. Arthur took him literally, and is now trying 
 the stiff upper lip method. Victor says his contor- 
 tions are worth watching." 
 
 303 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Poor Arthur!" murmured Hope, echoing Geist's 
 kugh faintly. "Can't something be done about his 
 voice?" 
 
 "Himmel! He ought to take it to a sanatorium and 
 give it about twenty years' rest." 
 
 "Is it utterly spoiled, do you think?" 
 
 "It ought to be. He has been in the hands of the 
 charlatans long enough to ruin a much better voice 
 than he began with." 
 
 "Curious ! He is quick enough to see through other 
 pretenders." 
 
 "Each of us is blind to his own particular weak- 
 ness, or shuts his eyes against it." 
 
 "Poor Arthur!" said Hope again. "He is a dear 
 boy. . . . This is my new home." 
 
 Geist glanced casually at the shabby brownstone. 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Thank you for your company. Good night." 
 
 ^'Auf wiedersehen." 
 
 Geist moved along, lighting the brier remembrance 
 which Churchill Gray had given him. 
 
 304. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE HAPPINESS OF A CERTAIN YOUNG 
 
 GENTLEMAN IS SERIOUSLY 
 
 CONSIDERED 
 
 Have you ever, by any chance, beloved reader, 
 striven to persuade yourself that you loved a member 
 of the opposite sex? 
 
 Let us say you have inspired in him the tenderest 
 of passions, and that he loves you devotedly: he has 
 told you so; you know it must be true. He deserves 
 to be loved in return; and if only you can convince 
 yourself that you do love hini, a great many difficul- 
 ties will be smoothed away, and you will be able to do, 
 with a tranquil conscience, what seems the right, the 
 inevitable thing. 
 
 Well, first you throw on memory's magic-lantern 
 screen the face and form of Him That Should Be 
 
 305 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Loved, at the moment when he seemed most worthy. 
 This is difficult, as the lantern lights the picture ill, 
 and intermittently. 
 
 I have often closed my eyes and tried to bring back 
 a favorite river vista. Flash! — a canon wall and a 
 swirl of creamy waters in a pool; an instant later it 
 is gone. Flash! — the other wall of the canon, a 
 fallen, bark-stripped cedar lying alongside, its butt 
 anchored against a boulder. Flash! — the brown river 
 above the fall, a tall pine on the brink of the gorge, 
 the blue sky. But try as I will, I can not visualize the 
 entire picture, nor hold one fragment while I patch 
 another to it. 
 
 So with the face and form of Him That Should Be 
 Loved. The magic lantern works poorly. But you 
 catch, now a cluster of Hyperion curls, now a pair of 
 honest blue eyes, and now a winning mouth ; and sup- 
 plementing these details with remembrance of a spoken 
 word, a joyous laugh, you are in the proper mood to 
 consider the important question: "Do I love him.?" 
 
 Let us see. 
 
 You take pleasure in his society ; you can not recall 
 a single occasion when you wished him elsewhere, or 
 would cut short a tete-a-tete by the fraction of a min- 
 ute. You have walked with him, talked with him, and 
 
 306 
 
HAPTPINESS 
 
 found him ever an agreeable companion; he wears 
 well, in a word. And you feel he will change but little 
 with the years, and that little for the better. 
 
 His tastes are yours in many matters ; where he can 
 not sympathize he is sympathetically tolerant. Say 
 he will not stimulate, inspire you : how many husbands 
 do inspire and stimulate their wives? — it is usually 
 the other way about. Say he will not "understand" : 
 how many husbands understand? 
 
 True, the touch of his hand does not thrill ; you do 
 not wake in the night with his name on your lips, and 
 stretch your arms into the dark, to bring them back, 
 empty, with a sigh; you do not hunger for his lips, 
 his eyes, his hair. 
 
 Are these the manifestations of love? Must one 
 thrill and hunger? There seems to be a consensus of 
 opinion affirmative. 
 
 The next question is : "If I do not love him, can I 
 learn to love him?" This opens up a wider, mistier 
 field; but certain things are clear enough. He That 
 Should Be Loved is young, sufficiently good-looking, 
 and more than sufficiently rich. You have, we will say, 
 chosen music as your art, and feel that, given the op- 
 portunity, you can become one of the few great pian- 
 ists of the age. Well, you have only to say the woi*d 
 
 307 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 (there are but three letters in it), and riches will be 
 poured into your lap. You may study where you will 
 — in Paris, Vienna, Berlin, New York; it is all one 
 to the happy youth who idolizes you. 
 
 Nor does he ask immediate possession; you may 
 retain your liberty of soul and body as long as you see 
 fit, with the priceless privilege of changing your 
 mind: the riches you have taken may then be con- 
 strued as a loan, to be repaid when the horn of plenty 
 tilts in your direction. You see, you have everything 
 to gain and nothing to lose. 
 
 Whatever your answer may be, remember, always, 
 that no one can possibly love you more, no one can 
 desire your happiness more keenly, than he who has 
 the honor to subscribe himself your sincere friend and 
 well-wisher. ... 
 
 Hope sat a long time with Arthur's letter in her 
 hand. It had come at a critical time in her affairs. 
 
 The music year was at its close, and recent advices 
 from home made it absolutely certain that no more 
 funds would be forthcoming for her musical educa- 
 tion ; Farmer Winston had no more to give. 
 
 Eight months ago, when ignorance was bliss, a 
 music year seemed a sufficient time in which to be- 
 
 308 
 
HAPPINESS 
 
 come a concert pianist; now Hope realized that one 
 year was but the merest preparation ; that, swiftly as 
 she had progressed, the goal was still far distant. 
 She had realized this for some weeks past, dreading 
 the day when the question of her future must be faced 
 and answered. 
 
 The question of tuition fees was the lightest of her 
 perplexities. She might continue another year on the 
 same easy terms; indeed, tuition expenses might be 
 eliminated, if she wished; Doctor Erdmann had inti- 
 mated as much. "In the cause of Art . . ." 
 
 But how, meanwhile, to live? There lay the prob- 
 lem. 
 
 She thought of supporting herself by some light 
 employment which would allow her sufficient time to 
 pursue her studies. But what could she do.? Of of- 
 fice work she was ignorant, and a glance over the 
 "Help Wanted" column of the daily paper suggested 
 nothing else except domestic service. Teach music? 
 she smiled at the thought. To be sure, she was better 
 qualified than half the teachers of music in the United 
 States ; but she was altogether incapable of their ef- 
 frontery ; an even stronger deterrent was her sense of 
 humor. 
 
 Domestic service was all that offered, and that was 
 309 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 scarcely practicable. She was not afraid of the jump 
 from Mrs. Addison West's drawing-room to Mrs. Dil- 
 day's backstairs; but would Mrs. Dilday permit her 
 to use the piano (provided Mrs. Dilday had one), 
 and to practise four hours a day ? Pshaw ! 
 
 The present problem was too large to refer to Doc- 
 tor Erdmann, or even to Mrs. Maybury. An oifer of 
 assistance, she reasoned, would be out-and-out char- 
 ity, rather than accept which she would go back to the 
 provinces and teach ; that, with all its dreariness, was 
 one degree less distasteful. 
 
 After all, the alternative of packing her trunk and 
 returning to Swiftwater was to reply "Yes" to the 
 letter in her hand. 
 
 She read it through again. 
 
 No; she could not convince herself that she loved 
 Arthur. She did not love anybody — now ; for one can 
 not love a gentleman who has engaged himself to 
 marry one's friend. The secondary question. Could 
 she grow to love Arthur.? remained open. 
 
 Of course it was not impossible, she told herself. 
 Arthur would have to wait a few years, as he was pre- 
 pared to wait ; there would not be room in her thoughts 
 for two passions. But when she came into her ar- 
 tistic own, there would be leisure to cultivate a genuine 
 
 310 
 
HAPPINESS 
 
 affection, which was the enduring basis of all matri- 
 monial relations. 
 
 In such circumstances, they would be happy, in a 
 subdued way. To the mind-picture of her triumphs on 
 the concert stage, she added a young man waiting, 
 behind scenes, to drape an opera cloak about her 
 shoulders, and whisper a word of praise more welcome 
 even than the intoxicating plaudits of the audience at 
 large. 
 
 Great as her debt to Arthur would be, she would 
 nevertheless be independent in a money way ; and out 
 of her own earnings she would repay her parents, a 
 hundredfold, all they had spent on her. The Wins- 
 ton acres should be augmented indefinitely; the little 
 mother should no longer "overdo," and the little sister 
 should adventure into the great wide world on her own 
 account, and learn wherein it differed from the world 
 of faery. 
 
 A pleasant vision, but it required a base. What if, 
 after all, affection for Arthur should be lacking? 
 The vision faded. 
 
 She did not consider herself; she did not tremble 
 for her own peace of mind, nor view with abhorrence 
 a prospect of living in wedlock with a man for whom 
 she felt only esteem. A little later she was to regard 
 
 Sll 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 the question from the viewpoint of her own salvation : 
 to-day the young man's happiness was her chief con- 
 cern. 
 
 Suddenly flashed through her mind the deliberately- 
 voiced advice of Churchill Gray: "Sacrifice your 
 friends to your art." 
 
 Ought she to sacrifice Arthur? Her sympathetic 
 Httle heart rebelled. Since, in his blind adoration, 
 Arthur would be manifestly incapable of regarding 
 the immolation with a rational eye, was it not her duty 
 to protect him against himself.? 
 
 Still, did she not owe a larger duty to Music? "In 
 the cause of Art," what was one Arthur more or less ? 
 A thousand lovers might be happy or miserable — it 
 was all one to Art. Art must be selfish: those were 
 Gray's words. She recalled a fragment of their con- 
 versation : 
 
 "Is that not dangerous advice.?" 
 
 "If the person to whom it is given be not a genius 
 — yes." 
 
 "Why the distinction?" 
 
 "Because Music would gain nothing by the sacri- 
 fice." 
 
 Ah ! Was she a genius ? It would be wise to make 
 sure before further debating the question of immolat- 
 
 312 
 
HAPJ^INESS 
 
 ing Arthur West. But how is one to find out? Small 
 use to ask one's friends; they return an enthusiastic 
 affirmative. As little profit to ask one's self : so many 
 of us have been mistaken; it is impossible wholly to 
 eliminate personal prejudice. 
 
 She knew she had great talent; there needed no 
 ghost, come from the spirit world where dwelt the de- 
 parted masters, to tell her that. But did she possess 
 transcendent Genius? Only to such would she sacri- 
 fice her meanest friend. She required the verdict of a 
 competent, unprejudiced judge; and it came to her 
 that she should find such a judge in Madame Therese 
 Friedenthal. Madame would not even remember set- 
 ting eyes on her. She would, when informed that the 
 matter was important, hear her play, and would tell 
 her frankly what she wished to know. 
 
 Hope folded Arthur's letter and kissed it, murmur- 
 ing "Dear boy!" Then she donned her wraps, and 
 set out for the west side of the city. 
 
 313 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE HAPPINESS OF A CERTAIN YOUNG 
 GENTLEMAN IS APPARENTLY DECIDED 
 
 A middle-aged woman answered the bell. 
 
 "I wish to see Madame Friedenthal," said the vis- 
 itor. 
 
 "Have you an appointment?" 
 
 "No. But I am very anxious to see Madame at 
 once, if she is at home. The matter is important." 
 
 "Is it about lessons.?" 
 
 "Not exactly ; though later I may wish to study." 
 
 "Madame is to be seen only by appointment," said 
 the guardian of the door. 
 
 Hope stepped into the hall. 
 
 "Very well," she said serenely, although surprised 
 S14« 
 
APPARENTLY DECIDED 
 
 by her own audacity. "Please ask Madame whether 
 she will make an appointment with Miss Winston for 
 this afternoon." 
 
 The woman opposed a natural imperturbation to 
 Hope's assumed placidity. 
 
 "Appointments are made by letter," she returned. 
 
 "Madame is coming down the stairs," said Hope. 
 "Will you ask her — or shall I.?" 
 
 Madame Friedenthal by this time had reached the 
 hall, and came forward. 
 
 "Who is it.f^" she queried sharply, and looked peer- 
 ingly at the determined visitor. 
 
 "Miss Winston," Hope replied nervously. "You 
 do not remember me ..." 
 
 "Yes : you were at the concert." 
 
 She did remember, it appeared; and she held out 
 her hand. Madame was in an amiable mood. That 
 was auspicious. 
 
 "I hope you will pardon my coming without an 
 appointment," Hope apologized; "but I felt I must 
 see you to-day." 
 
 She was requested to step into the music-room, and 
 wait briefly while Madame attended to some domestic 
 matter. 
 
 The house was old-fashioned, and the music-room 
 315 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 consisted of two parlors thrown into one. In the sec- 
 ond of these were two grand pianos, placed side by 
 side, and above them a large portrait of Beethoven. 
 A few good oil paintings decked the walls, with a 
 considerable number of autographed photographs of 
 the world's renowned, and half a dozen faded laurel 
 wreaths, eloquent of triumphs past. Here Hope tar- 
 ried, in a growing trepidation, wondering how she 
 should formulate the question she had come to ask. 
 By the time Madame Friedenthal returned the open- 
 ing sentence was decided on. 
 
 "I am studying music," said Hope, after the pre- 
 liminary pleasantries, "and I wish to find out whether 
 it is worth while for me to continue." 
 
 Madame Friedenthal was politely interested. Pos- 
 sibly she had heard something of the sort before. 
 
 "I mean," continued Hope, realizing that she had 
 only partly stated the matter, "my future depends on 
 my knowing, now, whether I have genius or only 
 talent." 
 
 "So?" Madame smiled. "The assurance of your 
 friends does not satisfy you.?" 
 
 "No. I must learn it from some one who can speak 
 with authority and without prejudice; so I have come 
 to you, Madame Friedenthal." 
 
 316 
 
APPARENTJfcY DECIDED 
 
 "Do you wish to study with me?" asked Madame. 
 "If I have genius." 
 
 "Talent would not be enough?" Madame's eyes 
 twinkled. 
 
 "It would satisfy me — yes ; for then I should know 
 that nothing higher was attainable." 
 
 Madame Friedenthal was slightly puzzled. She 
 was not expected to know that the happiness of a 
 young man hung in the balance between talent and 
 genius. 
 
 "I do not demand genius of a student," she said; 
 "if I did I should have very few pupils. Do you 
 think of teaching?" 
 
 "No; at least not until I have learned all there is 
 to know." 
 
 "Then you will never teach." 
 
 Both smiled. 
 
 "My situation is this," said Hope, more at her 
 ease : "I have gone so far in my studies, and have no 
 more money of my own to continue. Assistance has 
 been offered me, but this I can not accept unless I am 
 satisfied I can become a great pianist." 
 
 Madame nodded. The matter was a little clearer. 
 "Tell me what you have done," she said kindly. 
 
 Hope told her — everything the reader already 
 817 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 knows, and a great deal besides, which the biographer 
 has deemed it wise to pass over, unwilling to trespass 
 on the reader's good nature. She mentioned her pre- 
 dilection for Johannes Brahms, and a corresponding 
 disinclination for Frederic Chopin; whereat Madame 
 Friedenthal raised her black eyebrows a trifle. 
 
 "Not even genius is permitted such prejudices," 
 she said. "The musical world has passed judgment 
 on the masters, and we must accept them — all. One 
 composer may appeal to you more than another, but 
 you can not, as an artist, cultivate aversions. The 
 true musician does not ask, 'Who wrote it?' but, 'Is 
 it good?' " She rose. "I will hear you play." 
 
 Face to face with the keyboard and the crucial test, 
 Hope's small stock of assurance dwindled to nothing- 
 ness; her limbs trembled, and her teeth might have 
 chattered if they had not been shut so tightly. Ma- 
 dame Friedenthal, who had drawn a chair beside her, 
 looked so stem and unsympathetic; her expression 
 seemed to say: "You have invited this test; acquit 
 yourself well, or woe be unto you." 
 
 "Shall I play some Bach?" asked Hope, and won- 
 dered whether she was heard. Madame nodded yes, 
 and settled herself to listen. 
 
 Poor Hope! Her hands were numb with nervous- 
 318 
 
apparen'Tly decided 
 
 ness. The opening measure was a blur. She stopped, 
 and rubbed her fingers smartly. 
 
 "Try it again," Madame said encouragingly. 
 
 Then Hope disclosed the stuff of which concert 
 heroines are made. Drawing a deep breath of "Maz- 
 daznan," she struck with decision the turn which be- 
 gins the Bach Prelude, and played that and the accom- 
 panying fugue as well as she had ever played them. 
 
 Madame's comment was favorable. She made one 
 or two criticisms. "Play some Beethoven," she sug- 
 gested. "One movement will answer." 
 
 Hope selected the Third Sonata of Opus 31. The 
 first movement went capitally. 
 
 "Let me hear the second movement," said Madame. 
 
 This went even better. Madame Friedenthal was 
 not a medium like Mynheer Van Wart; but her 
 intense nature, under proper conditions, radiated 
 artistic sympathy ; the conditions being present, some- 
 thing of her own fiery genius was communicated to the 
 young woman. 
 
 "Very well done !" she said, nodding her head vig- 
 orously, with a little tremor in her voice. 
 
 It was enough — more than enough. Madame was 
 notoriously niggardly of praise. You or I, beloved 
 reader, would have cried out "Bravo!" But if we 
 
 319 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 had watched as many frogs inflate as had Madame 
 Friedenthal, we should hkely be as chary of com- 
 mendation; for there are few more painful sights 
 than a frog inflated to the danger point; one would 
 not have the explosion on one's conscience. 
 
 Hope was secretly elated, but not inflated. To Ma- 
 dame's "Very well done!" she returned a grateful 
 "Thank you," and rose from the piano. The ques- 
 tion of genius was dismissed with a tacit affirmative. 
 
 Madame Friedenthal then harked back to the story 
 of Miss (Winston's musical life, and preached a little 
 sermon on the text "Thou shalt have no prejudices." 
 Thou, of course, referred to the student. Tlie teacher 
 is an autocrat, and the student must humble herself; 
 she has no individuality, she is a slave. If she become 
 an artist, she may disclose her individuality, but not 
 before. 
 
 "You speak of interpretation," said Madame (Miss 
 Winston had used the word airily) ; "what right have 
 you to speak of it now.'' Can you play a scale.?" 
 
 Hope murmured a meek negative. 
 
 "If the time ever comes when you have a perfect 
 technic you may think of interpretation. Meantime, 
 you must work, drudge." 
 
 And much more of the same sort, to which, I regret 
 320 
 
APPARENTLY DECIDED 
 
 to say, Miss Winston did not listen as reverently as 
 she should have done; for more than one dogmatic 
 utterance was in conflict with the artistic creed of Karl 
 Geist, to whom, first of all, she bowed. Geist did not 
 countenance suppressing individuality, nor believe 
 that interpretation should wait on the acquisition of 
 a technic able to cope with compositions designed to 
 dazzle and astound. "The piano-playing machines 
 have said all there is to say on that sort of technic," 
 he declared; "and the pianist of the future will be 
 primarily concerned with more important matters." 
 
 Madame Friedenthal, her little sermon done, chatted 
 amiably of her own student days. As a child she de- 
 tested piano practice, and "watered the streets with 
 her tears." Mathematics was always her favorite study ; 
 and though a woman, she prided herself on her logic. 
 
 Presently they spoke of what Miss Winston should 
 study. In Madame's opinion, she should study the 
 things she cared least for ; these were what she needed. 
 (Yes; there was no doubt that Madame Friedenthal 
 was a logician, despite the feminine gender. One 
 should study the things to which one is not tempera- 
 mentally drawn, just as one should marry one's op- 
 posite. We all know how successfully this rule works 
 out in matrimony.) 
 
 321 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Take something simple," said Madame ; "a Chopin 
 nocturne, or 'Songs Without Words'." 
 
 Hope, if not a logician, was a bit of a diplomatist. 
 
 "I am inclined to be sentimental," she demurred; 
 "don't you think such things would be bad for me?" 
 
 "Sentimental? Yet you dislike Chopin!" was the 
 quick rejoinder. "How is that?" 
 
 "But Chopin is so fearfully sentimental." 
 
 "What can you expect?" — good-humoredly. "The 
 poor man wasn't well, and he always had a woman on 
 his mind." 
 
 Several other composers were suggested. Brahms? 
 Well, a little, a very little ; one can not build up tech- 
 nic on Brahms. 
 
 Above all, one should not dream of scaling the final 
 peak unless one were in perfect physical condition. 
 Was Miss Winston strong in body? The young lady 
 replied that she had never been sick a day. Madame 
 was able to return as clean a bill of health. "I am the 
 same always, night or morning," she said. 
 
 She shook hands cordially at parting. The touch 
 of her fingers — ^five slender hammers of bone and 
 muscle — ^was an inspiration in itself. 
 
 So, it would appear, the die was cast, and Mr. 
 
 322 
 
APPARENTLY DECIDED 
 
 Arthur West must stand the hazard of it. Infatuated 
 youth ! — do you reahze what it will mean to be wedded 
 to a beautiful, tender-hearted young woman who ac- 
 cepted your hand merely in gratitude? 
 
 Poor boy, of course you do not. The world will 
 say : "What a happy couple those young Wests are ! 
 They dote on each other. Mrs. West always plays 
 her best when Mr. West is in the audience, and looks 
 first for him iii the crowd that comes to congratulate 
 her." Ah, but the world will not understand. It will 
 not see beneath the veneer. It is easily deceived by 
 the semblance of happiness. It does not realize what 
 a difficult thing is the "artistic temperament." 
 Wretched, wretched Arthur! Will nothing interpose 
 to save you? 
 
 Nothing promises. A young woman is speeding 
 across the city to reply "Yes" to your tender pro- 
 posal — ^not wholly easy in her mind, yet resolved as 
 to her course, even smiling at thought of the Prince 
 and the Chariot, and wondering whether little Alice 
 will approve. 
 
 Precisely how she shall word her acceptance of the 
 tender of marriage perplexes her. Of course, an early 
 marriage is out of the question; Arthur must under- 
 stand that clearly, as no doubt he will. There must be 
 
 322 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 no announcement of the engagement, nor any change 
 in their present relations, even betv/een themselves; 
 Arthur must understand that also ; it may be a trifle 
 harder to grasp, but he is a bright boy. Chiefly (and 
 this is the difficult thing to write: how difficult the 
 reader will understand if she has ever been in a 
 similar predicament), Arthur must be made aware 
 that Miss Winston does not love him, at present — ^that 
 is, not as he deserves to be loved ; that her sentiments 
 may not change, although there is really no reason 
 why they should not; that music comes first in her 
 thoughts, from which he is not utterly excluded ; and 
 that since he is fully advised of the precariousness of 
 his suit, he may, if he sees fit (and as perhaps he 
 should), recall his proposal (which does him more 
 honor than herself), without disturbing their friend- 
 ship a hair's breadth. 
 
 This seemed to cover the case ; yet as she ran it over 
 in her mind it impressed her as a trifle cold. She did 
 not appear to be sufficiently grateful. Perhaps it 
 would be well to lay a little more stress on the possi- 
 bility of a change in her sentiments. Arthur was a 
 sensible youth, who would not presume — 
 
 The conductor received a hurried signal. A young 
 lady had ridden three squares past her corner. 
 
 324> 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IN WHICH KARL GEIST MAKES A CASUAL 
 C A lili 
 
 As she ascended to her lodgings, on the second 
 floor of the shabby brownstone, giving on the street, 
 Hope asked herself how long she should continue to 
 occupy them. They were adequate, and fitted up in 
 a style to which hitherto she had been unaccustomed ; 
 quite in contrast, too, with other rooms in the house, 
 glanced at passingly ; the parlor below and the dining- 
 room in the basement were commonplace to the point 
 of dreariness. The comfort and touch of luxury 
 which she enjoyed were, of course, attributable to her 
 kind friend, Doctor Erdmann, who had personally 
 selected the apartments (a large living-room and a 
 small bedroom), and had seen that they contained 
 
 S25 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 everything Miss Winston might desire. From Doctor 
 Erdmann had come the "Colossus" grand piano, the 
 music cabinet, and the piano lamp. She had protested 
 against this munificence, the propriety of accepting 
 which she gravely doubted ; but the good Doctor had 
 gently overruled her objections — "in the cause of 
 Art" ; and as the things were in the rooms when she 
 arrived to take possession, to insist on their removal 
 was to risk offending the most disinterestedly benevol- 
 ent gentleman one would encounter in a long day's 
 walk. 
 
 None the less, her mind was far from tranquil, and 
 she was all the more pleased that her visit to Madame 
 Friedenthal had resulted so successfully; for since 
 she had decided to bond herself, soul and body, to 
 Music, she would no longer be under obligations to 
 any person. 
 
 The thought of her bondage made her shiver a little, 
 as she sat to her writing-table and began to compose 
 her reply to Arthur's letter. 
 
 "Dear Arthur—" 
 
 The words seemed hollow, the merest shells of 
 speech. Never had Arthur been more distant from 
 her thoughts; for suddenly the magic lantern threw 
 on the screen the picture of a park in springtime, a 
 
 326 
 
CASUAL CALL 
 
 dark-haired young man stretched on the greensward, 
 by the side of a silver lagoon. She heard again, 
 fainter than Elfland's horns, the music in his voice — 
 
 "Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twilight. 
 Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's brim, 
 
 Rounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark. 
 Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him." 
 
 Then the park rolled away, like the panorama of 
 "Parsifal," and the other picture took its place: two in 
 a valley, hand in hand by the river's brim, a white- 
 throat singing in a hazel covert. 
 
 An abrupt and fierce desire for her own happiness 
 rushed over her. She shrank from the immolation 
 of — herself. Yes: for the first time it came to her 
 that she, not Arthur, was to be sacrificed; that her 
 soul, not his, would be numbered with the wrecks on 
 Music's sounding shore. What should it profit her, 
 as was asked many centuries ago, if she gained the 
 whole world and lost her own soul.? Poor Princess 
 Hope ! She hid her face in her arm and cried softly. 
 
 Suddenly she lifted her head, irresolution banished. 
 Taking up her pen, she wrote — slowly, but without 
 hesitation — sealed the letter, and put on her hat. 
 There was a mail-box at the near corner. 
 
 327 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The door-bell jangled dismally below. She start- 
 ed apprehensively, pricking her cheek with a hat-pin. 
 She was overwrought, she told herself. A walk would 
 quiet her nerves. 
 
 As she opened the door she started again; the 
 landlady stood without. Hope disliked the woman 
 exceedingly. She was always respectful and accom- 
 modating, but she had a furtive air and an evasive 
 eye, and an unpleasant habit of smiling when there 
 seemed not the slightest reason for it. 
 
 "Letter for you. Miss* A boy just brought it." 
 
 Hope thanked her in a monosyllable, and closed 
 the door. 
 
 The letter was addressed in an unfamiliar hand, 
 but as she drew forth the inclosure the signature 
 "Rhoda Weathers" faced her, and with a premoni- 
 tion of disaster she turned hurriedly to the introduc- 
 tory "Dear, dear friend. . ." 
 
 She read, with paling cheeks, to the last word ; then 
 a cry of anguish passed her lips, and she drooped 
 against the window-casing, hand pressed to heart. 
 
 A tap at the door went unnoticed. It was re- 
 peated, and this time she heard. She rose, saying, 
 "Come!" and went toward the door. It opened, dis- 
 closing Doctor Rudolf Erdmann. 
 
 328 
 

 " You ! " her lips tried to say 
 
 Page J2^ 
 
A CAStjAL CALL 
 
 At sight of him Hope halted, fear and detesta- 
 tion dilating her eyes, Rhoda's letter crumpled in her 
 hand. "You !" her lips tried to say, but the word died 
 on them. 
 
 This ominous greeting was not remarked by Doc- 
 tor Erdmann; the daylight waned, and he was, be- 
 sides, occupied in bowing low over his silk hat. 
 
 "Good afternoon," he said suavely, and advanced 
 into the room. 
 
 She shrank back, still unable to syllable her emo- 
 tions, and put a hand for support on the back of a 
 chair. And now Doctor Erdmann could not fail to 
 perceive that something was amiss. 
 
 "My dear Miss Winston . . . you are ill , . . 
 permit me . . ." 
 
 Step by step she retreated, staring fascinated and 
 with a growing horror — not at the man, but at a 
 cabochon emerald ring on one fat finger of his out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 Since the hand was not taken, he withdrew it. 
 The spell was broken. 
 
 "How dare you !" she cried. "Oh, how could you !" 
 
 "Miss Winston . . ." He paused, at loss for 
 the right phrase. 
 
 "Go away ! Please go away !" she begged. 
 229 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 At that moment came another knock at the door, 
 and Hope sprang toward it. 
 
 "Stop — ^I will go," said Doctor Erdmann, losing 
 his temper. He thrust her aside roughly, jerked open 
 the door, and passed out, shielding his face with his 
 high hat. 
 
 The opportune caller was Karl Geist. So dark 
 was the hall, Erdmann probably did not recognize 
 him. Waiting until the president of the Colossus 
 had turned the stair, Geist tapped again softly at 
 the now open door. 
 
 Hope stood in the center of the room — rigid, wide- 
 eyed, and breathing with difficulty. Rhoda's letter 
 was still crushed in her hand. 
 
 "May I come in?" said Geist pleasantly. "I saw 
 you at the window reading, and I ventured a call. 
 The landlady told me you were not at home. I must 
 apologize for insisting." 
 
 "Thank you," said Hope, voicing the deep relief 
 which the sight of his gentle face had brought her. 
 "Won't — ^won't you sit down.?" 
 
 She strove to match his casual manner, grateful 
 to him for blinking the late presence of Doctor 
 Erdmann. 
 
 "I can stay but a minute or two," said Geis^, tak- 
 330 
 
A CASUAL CALL 
 
 ing a chair. "I have to-night's concert on my mind, 
 you know, and I promised Miss Hammond to run 
 over her number with her." 
 
 At the word "concert" Hope gasped, and crushed 
 Rhoda's letter more tightly. Then, controlling her- 
 self, she said: 
 
 "When you go, I should like to go with you — 
 if I may." 
 
 "Yes; certainly," he nodded, as if Miss Winston's 
 abrupt decision to leave her present lodgings was 
 the most natural thing imaginable. "Shan't I call 
 a cab ?" 
 
 "There is a telephone in the house. Would you 
 mind . . ..?" 
 
 "Not in the least. . . . Any little business mat- 
 ters to attend to?" 
 
 She mentioned a sum owing the establishment, and 
 gave him her purse, and Geist descended to interview 
 the landlady. 
 
 When he was gone, Hope's fortitude gave way, 
 and she abandoned herself to a fit of weeping. How, 
 oh, how could she bring herself to tell Geist that 
 Rhoda was dead! Over and over she sobbed the 
 words — "Rhoda dead! — Rhoda dead!" — until the 
 clock in the room, the turning wheels in the street, the 
 
 331 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 cries of children at play, took up the sad refrain. 
 Suddenly she sprang up, dashing the tears from her 
 eyes. She must be brave for Rhoda's sake. Rhoda 
 had laid an obligation on her, and she would need all 
 her strength and courage to discharge it. 
 
 When Geist, having transacted the business below 
 stairs in a leisurely fashion, returned to the second- 
 floor front, Miss Winston was completing a hurried 
 packing of her trunk — ^never a long operation, as her 
 worldly effects were few. The trunk strapped, they 
 sat down to await the coming of the cab. 
 
 Geist essayed a few commonplaces of conversation. 
 The girl, he saw, was overstrung, and was making 
 drafts on her nerve reserve. 
 
 "Where would you like to go?" he said. 
 
 "T6 Flora's," she replied. "Flora will take me 
 in for a day or two. I shall be going home soon." 
 
 "Let me assert my waning authority," he smiled, 
 "and command you to avoid the concert to-night." 
 
 The remark seemed further to disorder her. 
 
 "I must go," she answered chokingly. "You — you 
 will understand." 
 
 He was perplexed, and a trifle dismayed by the 
 look of pity which she turned on him. 
 
 "It will be more or less of a strain," he cautioned. 
 332 
 
A CASITAL CALL 
 
 "You have been working too hard, I fear. You need 
 quiet." 
 
 "Yes ; it will be a strain — ^but — ^but I must go." 
 
 "Very well, then," he said gravely. 
 
 A clatter on the asphalt before the house betokened 
 the arrival of the cab. 
 
 333 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A CHANGE IN THE PROGRAMME 
 
 When Stanley Arthur Jones and his radiant bride- 
 to-be entered the conservatory recital hall, the presi- 
 dent of the Colossus was holding the last levee of the 
 music year. 
 
 Commencement week had been unusually strenuous 
 and brilliant. Its cares and ferments justified, per- 
 haps, the lack of color in Doctor Erdmann's normally 
 florid face, a certain distraction in his manner, a 
 nervous apprehension more than once betrayed when 
 some person with whom he was not at the moment 
 talking touched him on the arm. 
 
 "How serious Doctor Erdmann looks!" Flora re- 
 334 
 
CHANGE IN THE PROGRAMME 
 
 marked. "One hardly recognizes him without his 
 Cheshire-cat grin." 
 
 "Consider," said Jones, "the responsibility of turn- 
 ing loose on the world ten thousand graduates." 
 
 "Fifteen hundred at the most. Don't make it any 
 worse than it is." 
 
 "If Erdmann has a conscience . . ." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Flora. "Oh, there are the May- 
 bury s. Their first appearance, to my knowledge. I 
 suppose they came on Karl Geist's account." 
 
 "Ah, he plays to-night.?" 
 
 "Yes ; and so does Rhoda Weathers. This concert 
 wiU be, in a way, her debut." 
 
 Mr. Jones acknowledged the privilege of being in 
 at the birth of an artistic career, and desired the 
 pleasure of congratulating the artist in advance of 
 her triumph. "But I do not observe Miss Weathers," 
 he remarked, glancing about the haU. 
 
 "Nor I." Miss Matheson wrinkled her brows a bit. 
 "I haven't seen the child since morning." 
 
 "Your voice and face betray uneasiness, my love," 
 said Jones. He smiled fondly on her. 
 
 "Nothing escapes you novelists," said Flora iron- 
 ically. "Yes ; I am uneasy, Stanley. Come, let's say 
 how-do-you-do to Doctor Erdmann." 
 
 SS5 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 They advanced to discharge this obligation. 
 
 So far as the general public was concerned, com- 
 mencement week was at an end. The annual oration 
 had been delivered by a prosperous alumnus, the 
 diplomas and gold medals distributed, the degrees 
 conferred, and the commencement concert given. This 
 concert, always the principal feature, had been bril- 
 liant beyond precedent. Graduates, establishing a 
 new record in number, had been ranged impressively, 
 tier on tier, like a vast oratorio chorus, on the stage 
 of Music Hall, at their feet the conservatory or- 
 chestra-graduates in brass and strings and woodwind ; 
 beyond, an audience that filled the great hall to over- 
 flowing. Facing this enormous assembly, and indicat- 
 ing proudly the tiering talent at his back, Doctor 
 Erdmann had been inspired to say: 
 
 "This is the Golden Age of Music !" 
 
 The audience clapped a loud assent. The grad- 
 uates, thinking of their teachers' certificates, smiled 
 happily. 
 
 The present reception and concert, in the recital 
 hall of the conservatory, was an impromptu affair, 
 quite apart from the conventional pyrotechnics of 
 commencement. It contemplated the mutual pleasure 
 of the more serious students and members of the 
 
 386 
 
CHANGE IN THE PROGRAMME 
 
 faculty, and the limited number of invited outsiders 
 included distinguished members of the musical set of 
 the metropolis, who, like the Mayburys, seldom or 
 never attended a Grindstone concert. Doctor Erd- 
 mann suggested it, and desired Karl Geist to take 
 charge of the musical end, himself attending to the 
 social. The result was a programme of exceptional in- 
 terest, comprehending several compositions of a more 
 intimate sort than one may hope to hear at public 
 concerts ; or would care to hear, for that matter, since 
 in a large auditorium there can be no real sympathy 
 between player and listener, and only the superficial 
 in the effective. 
 
 When all who wished to clasp the hand of Doctor 
 Erdmann had enjoyed the privilege, the president 
 and a dozen of his faculty took seats on the stage, 
 and the audience disposed itself for the concert. 
 
 Arthur West, arriving late, paused before taking 
 his seat to scan the rows of faces. He located his 
 parents, sitting with Flora Matheson and Stanley 
 Arthur Jones, and a score or more of people that he 
 knew ; but the bright particular countenance his eyes 
 made quest for was not in sight. His disappointment 
 was peculiarly acute. The non-appearance of Miss 
 Winston was ominous. Had she remained away from 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 the concert to avoid encountering him? It was 
 drearily possible. 
 
 Trying are the hours that follow the despatch of a 
 proposal of marriage. The mails, swift enough in 
 sordid business transactions, are very snails with bil- 
 lets-doux; and one may not force the pace, in such 
 delicate correspondence, with stamps of special deliv- 
 ery ; though fancy may picture Cupid a-wheel, letter- 
 bag at side, dashing up to the porch of the waiting 
 lover. "Sign here, sir!" 
 
 While Arthur dared not hope for a favorable 
 answer to his letter before at least the morning fol- 
 lowing, he had lingered at home for the latest mail, 
 relieved in mind when the postman passed him by. A 
 speedy reply, he reflected, would spell rejection; for 
 when the word is Yes, woman is properly deliberate in 
 saying it. Surely in such case, no news is good news ; 
 and Arthur hastened to the concert, hoping to read, 
 in the eyes of the beloved one, some letter of the little 
 word the morrow might have in store for him. 
 
 "I say. West!" 
 
 A hand touched his arm, and he turned to see a 
 police-court reporter for the Chronicle, 
 
 "Hello, Bentley! Doing music now.?" asked 
 Arthur jokingly, 
 
 338 
 
CHANGE IN 'P-HE PROGRAMME 
 
 The other grinned a disclaimer. "No. I'm look- 
 ing for Doctor Erdmann. Point him out for me, will 
 you. I don't happen to know him." 
 
 "That large, commercial-looking gentleman on the 
 stage," indicated West. "You will know him by his 
 spreading smile." 
 
 "I'll take a reef in that,** replied the reporter. 
 "Thanks, old man." 
 
 "What's up .f^" asked Arthur curiously. 
 
 "Suicide — music student," the newspaper man re- 
 turned briefly, and made toward the stage door. 
 
 West followed him down the side aisle, and took a 
 seat between his mother and Miss Matheson. 
 
 "Have you seen Hope?" he questioned Flora, in an 
 undertone. "I thought she might be with you." 
 
 He was informed that Miss Winston had gone be- 
 hind with Karl Geist a few minutes before. 
 
 "Why, IS she to play.f^" he asked, suddenly inter- 
 ested in the programme. 
 
 "Her name is not down," Miss Matheson replied. 
 "I haven't seen Hope to speak to for several days. 
 Stanley" — a tender smile — "occupies so much of my 
 time." 
 
 "Time was made for lovers," murmured the enrap- 
 tured Jones. 
 
 339 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "For prosperous lovers," said Arthur dismally. 
 Flora gave him a glance of sympathy. 
 
 A young man came out on the stage and spoke a 
 word in Doctor Erdmann's ear. The president got up 
 hurriedly and followed him off. Arthur West was 
 suddenly reminded of the reporter's communication. 
 
 "How distressing!" exclaimed Mrs. West. "Did 
 you learn the name, Arthur?" 
 
 The Chronicle man had not mentioned the name. 
 
 "A Colossus student.?" the elder West inquired. 
 
 A natural inference. The reporter was interviewing 
 the president. 
 
 "I'll hold Bentley up when he comes out and find 
 out the details," young West offered. 
 
 "Don't, Arthur!" Miss Matheson implored, in an 
 agitated whisper. "It might — it might be some one 
 we know." 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. The color had for- 
 saken her face; intense anxiety was in her eyes. The 
 young man wondered. 
 
 "Why anticipate evil tidings?" remarked Jones, 
 with a lover's deprecation of the jarring note. "As it 
 is, our pleasure in the concert has been clouded al- 
 ready." 
 
 Arthur's apology was submerged in a round of ap- 
 340 
 
CHANGE IN XHHE PROGRAMME 
 
 plause that greeted Victor Mabbitt, who opened the 
 programme with Schumann's "Carnival." 
 
 In the midst of this joyous offering Doctor Erd- 
 mann returned to his seat. His face was chalky, and 
 he mopped his forehead, though the temperature in 
 the hall was not high. The reporter did not reappear. 
 He had slipped out the rear door. 
 
 Mabbitt's performance was rewarded with the ap- 
 probation of the critical. He had laid aside the care- 
 lessness which usually characterized his playing, and 
 gave sincerely of his best. 
 
 It was wasted on at least two persons in the audi- 
 ence. Arthur West was inattentive to the point of 
 restlessness. Flora Matheson, sick at heart with ap- 
 prehension, for which she had her own reasons, was 
 unable to withdraw her eyes from Doctor Erdmann's 
 face. 
 
 Mr. Mabbitt retired. 
 
 " 'Rhapsody, G-minor, Brahms,' " Jones read from 
 the programme; "by the master's favorite pupil, 
 Rhoda Weathers. My love, we should have brought 
 some roses." 
 
 Miss Matheson did not seem to hear. She leaned 
 forward, breathless, her eyes now fixed on the little 
 door that opened off the stage. When, presently, it 
 
 341 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 opened, and a young woman dressed plainly in black 
 appeared, Flora sank back, a sob in her throat, and 
 put her programme before her face. 
 
 "Why, it's Hope Winston !" said Mrs. West. 
 
 "A pleasant surprise, truly !" said Jones, 
 
 "By Jove!" exclaimed Arthur. Then observing 
 Miss Matheson: "Flora was in on it. She's smiling 
 behind her programme." 
 
 Miss Matheson's fingers closed convulsively around 
 the young man's wrist, and he fell silent, 
 
 Disregardful of the polite spatter of applause 
 which greeted her entrance, the young woman in black 
 crossed to the piano. Those nearest the stage ob- 
 served that her face was very pale, and that she 
 glanced neither to the right nor the left. Once seated, 
 she began, without an instant's pause, the Second 
 Rhapsody of Brahms. 
 
 The cognoscenti sat up and looked at one another, 
 and as measure succeeded measure they wagged their 
 heads in disapproval. It might be magnificent; it 
 was not Brahms. Amazing interpretation ! 
 
 Under the flying fingers of the young pianist, the 
 Rhapsody became a canticle of woe, a declaration of 
 despair. Rage was in the opening theme ; grief, des- 
 peration, blind resentment against an ineluctable fate, 
 
 342 
 
CHANGE IN T-HE PROGRAMME 
 
 were in the climax ; all else was dull pain, irremediable 
 sorrow. 
 
 Doctor Erdmann listened with a face of stone. 
 
 The Rhapsody closed sensationally. Instead of the 
 diminuendo came a tempestuous crescendo — wave 
 heaped on wave, and flung, in final impotent frenzy, 
 against the wall of the closing cadence. 
 
 Stirred by the tour de force, the audience applauded 
 extravagantly. Even the cognoscenti joined. It 
 might not be Brahms, but it was indubitably mag- 
 nificent. 
 
 The pianist rose, as from a grave-side, and with un- 
 steady steps recrossed the stage. As she passed the 
 little door she put out her hands gropingly, and sank, 
 sobbing but dry-eyed, into the arms of Flora Mathe- 
 son, who, anticipating a collapse, had hastened be- 
 hind scenes, followed by Arthur West. 
 
 "Poor dear!" said Flora, whose own eyes were 
 streaming. "Get some water, Karl. Mr. Mabbitt, 
 will you call a cab .f^" 
 
 "Permit me," said West, and hastened on the er- 
 rand. 
 
 Mabbitt had anticipated Geist, who appeared com- 
 pletely dazed. "Keep the concert going, Karl," he 
 said. "I will assist Miss Matheson." 
 
 343 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Thank you," said Flora. "Miss Winston will be 
 all right presently." 
 
 "Natural reaction after such an eifort," Mabbitt 
 remarked. "Gad! what strength!" 
 
 "Your number, Miss Hammond," said Geist dully. 
 
 The young woman addressed detached herself from 
 the little circle of sympathizers, and went forth to 
 offer Liszt's "Mephisto" waltz. 
 
 The gay, wild, mocking music put the audience in 
 an excellent humor. 
 
 S44 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 Some twenty miles north of Ledge, an outpost of 
 civilization, a twenty-foot slash through the timber 
 crosses the south fork of the Popple River. Here a 
 log shelter for horses has been built, for thus far the 
 wilderness wayfarer may travel on wheels, and the 
 junction of road and river is a common camp-ground. 
 Beyond the Popple the "road" dwindles to nothing- 
 ness. 
 
 In a small clearing on the north bank of the stream 
 a family of rabbits are frisking around a small tent 
 pitched among young poplars. One tips over a pile 
 of pans, and the resultant crash sends the brood 
 scurrying for cover. Lifeless the tiny world, while 
 
 S45 
 
THE CHARLATANS . 
 
 the reverberations of the thunderclap die among the 
 grasses. Now here, now there, is hfted up a pair of 
 questioning ears. Confidence returns. The youngest 
 of the brood whisks into the clearing. Presto! the 
 others follow, and the noiseless rout is on anew. 
 
 But hush ! From the river comes the sound of a pad- 
 dle. Stiffens every frolicking ball of fur. A bark 
 canoe pushes through the overhanging green, and the 
 Lord of the Clearing arrives. Whisk! the fur-balls 
 are gone, as fays at cock-crow. 
 
 The Lord of the Clearing drew his bark ashore and 
 placed it bottom up among the bushes, noting a seam 
 that needed pitching. But this must wait until after 
 supper; taking up his ax he felled a dead jack-pine 
 and worked the stick into fuel. Then he kindled a fire, 
 and pail in hand went down to the river. 
 
 The day had been oppressively hot, and a porten- 
 tous calm lay along the valley. The voice of the river 
 seemed muffled; the tin pail, struck against a stone, 
 was sharply responsive; poplar leaves, that danced to 
 a zephyr's fiddling, hung quiverless. Leaning against 
 the log bridge that spanned the stream, he studied 
 the copperish southwest. A storm threatened. 
 
 A small sound, dull and distant, disturbed the slug- 
 gish stillness, resolving itself, as the minutes passed, 
 
 346 
 
THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 into the rattle of a wagon coming down Pine Moun- 
 tain. "Timber cruisers," Churchill Gray surmised, 
 and returned to his fire. 
 
 When he had finished supper, he spread a map upon 
 his knees, and with pipestem traced, for the hundredth 
 time, the pathway to the Lake of Dreams. If the 
 Popple were navigable, one might drive a canoe to 
 the lake in which it headed, and journey thence, by 
 a chain of waters, to the very core of Silence. 
 
 He had spent the day exploring the South Fork, 
 finding promise of sufficient water for his expedition. 
 The morrow's sun should see him on his way, and, if 
 all went well, he should stand, the fourth day, on the 
 shore of the Lake of Dreams — a lake his fancy had 
 surrounded with a rim of exquisite beauty, and out 
 of which a fascinating little river ran northward, to 
 join with other little rivers in a pilgrimage to Hud- 
 son Bay. He meant to camp on the southern marge of 
 this magic mere, explore and chart its every indenta- 
 tion, and fish the little river, which, an Indian had 
 told him, was a wonderful stream for trout. As in 
 deep content he smoked his pipe, he traversed in im- 
 agination the reaches of the Popple and the chain of 
 waters beyond; and men and cities, and brotherhood 
 and strife were not. The world was well forgotten. 
 
 347 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 But, as many of us have found, forgetting may not 
 long be willed, nor may we escape the world so long 
 as a single thread binds us to it. In the course of an 
 hour an outfit from Ledge arrived in the clearing. 
 The teamster took a bulky letter from his cap, and 
 delivered it to Gray. 
 
 "Ericsson said I might ketch you here before you 
 pulled your stakes," he remarked. "If you want to 
 send back any mail I'll take it in the morning." 
 
 Gray glanced at the letter, and noted that the hand- 
 writing was Flora Matheson's. 
 
 "Much obliged, Kelly," he said. "Who are the 
 chaps with you?" 
 
 "Dave Sterling and Ed Howe. Looking pine in 
 sixty-four. We shack up here for the night." 
 
 "You'll be starting back early, I suppose .?" 
 
 "By sun-up. Road's pretty tough. Guess we're go- 
 in' to have a shower." 
 
 The teamster, squinting at the sky, went back to 
 his horses, and Gray opened his letter. 
 
 *'My Dear Churchill," it ran : "Karl gave me your 
 address, such as it is, and suggested that I write to 
 you. He thought you might wish to learn of a few 
 recent happenings, even if you lighted your pipe with 
 the news, as you threatened to do. Poor Karl ! He is 
 
 348 
 
THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 terribly upset by Rhoda Weathers' suicide, the news- 
 paper reports of which I inclose. Overstudy, they say 
 the cause was, but some of us believe otherwise. It is 
 not a pleasant story, Churchill, and I will not pain 
 you with it now. You never saw much of Rhoda, so 
 your interest in her can be only slight ; but as her little 
 tragedy brought forward, somewhat dramatically, a 
 person in whom you may he interested, you will for- 
 give my disturbing your woodland peace with uncheer- 
 ful tidings. Perhaps I shan't disturb it, as it is; for 
 I dare say you will not get this letter until you come 
 out of the tall timber. However, I am hoping for the 
 best, and if I do not hear from you promptly, I shall 
 take the responsibility of doing what I am now going 
 to ask you to do. 
 
 "But first about Rhoda. She was to appear at a 
 concert given in the conservatory last night, and just 
 before the mad child drowned herself she sent a note 
 to Hope Winston, asking her to play the Brahms 
 Rhapsody in her stead; a curious request, when you 
 consider that the girls were not really friends; al- 
 though Hope tells me that from the first day she met 
 Rhoda she had a curious feeling that their destinies 
 were linked. No one except Karl and myself knows 
 the real reason for the change in last night's pro- 
 gramme, so we have been spared the usual newspaper 
 'romance,' with pictures. 
 
 "I wish you might have heard Hope play that 
 Rhapsody. It was wonderful, it was unearthly. The 
 
 349 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 hands were Hope Winston's, but the soul, Churchill, 
 was the soul of Rhoda Weathers. Of course, Hope, 
 like the true feminine she is, went all to pieces after- 
 ward, and is still a bit hysterical. I don't understand 
 her — quite. It was a terrible strain, to be sure, but 
 there seems to be something back of it all — something 
 Hope hasn't told me. She talks of going home at once, 
 and I am having a difficult time of it trying to dis- 
 suade her. ( I wish you were here to help me. ) Arthur 
 West called an hour ago, but Plope begged to be ex- 
 cused from seeing him. Poor Arthur! He, too, is 
 badly broken up. Some of us thought we saw a match 
 there, but the dear girl has suddenly acquired an in- 
 tense aversion for the male sex, and declares that the 
 only man she wishes to see again is her father. (You 
 can take that, Churchill, with a grain of salt.) You 
 will readily understand how cheerful such sentiments 
 sound to a young woman who is to be married in Octo- 
 ber. Forgive the reference to my own happiness. It 
 seems dreadfully selfish, in view of yesterday's trag- 
 edy. 
 
 "Now about Hope and her future. It seems she has 
 no more money for music lessons, and is too proud to 
 accept assistance from her friends. I have talked and 
 talked to her, and even wept, but it doesn't do a bit of 
 good. She is set on burying herself in Swiftwater, 
 and the mere thought of that makes me wild. Don't 
 you think that if the offer came from Mrs. May bury, 
 who would know just how to formulate it, the matter 
 
 350 
 
THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 might be arranged? Won't you write to Mrs. May- 
 bury at once — that is, if this letter reaches you before 
 you vanish in the deep-tangled wildwood. Meanwhile 
 I will do my best to persuade Hope to remain with me 
 a while longer. 
 
 "You are well, of course, and beautifully browned, 
 and having a perfectly glorious time. But come back 
 before October, won't you, Churchill, and be present 
 at a 'quiet home wedding' ? Affectionately, 
 
 "Flora." 
 
 Gray turned to the newspaper clippings, which con- 
 cerned, as the Chronicle phrased it, "the self-destruc- 
 tion of a pretty music student whose reason had been 
 unsettled by excess of study." There was a brief in- 
 terview with Doctor Erdmann, in which the president 
 of the Colossus, "profoundly affected by the tragic 
 event," spoke in warmest terms of the unfortunate 
 young woman, whose talent was of an unusually high 
 order, and who, had she lived, would have brought 
 credit to the Colossus and herself. "A pathetic inter- 
 est," the Chronicle went on to say, "was lent to the 
 concert last evening in the recital hall of the conserv- 
 atory by the fact that Miss Weathers's name was on 
 the programme for a Brahms Rhapsody. Her place 
 was filled by another Student, Miss Hope Winston, 
 
 851 - *• 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 who gave a splendid and convincing rendition of the 
 rhapsody, evoking a furore of applause, to which the 
 young lady was too modest to respond." 
 
 Gray put by the clippings, and looked the letter 
 through again. Yes ; there was "something back of 
 it all," as Flora surmised. He recalled his farewell 
 chat with Karl Geist, — his friend's uneasiness and 
 plainly-evidenced wish that Gray delay his departure 
 for the north country. He had not pressed Geist for 
 details, not wishing to seem over-interested in Miss 
 Winston ; thus he had lost, or declined, a possible op- 
 portunity to serve her. 
 
 Again he was appealed to ; and this time the request 
 was one with which he was quite willing to comply. 
 There was no question, he thought, of Leith May- 
 bury's readiness to offer her protegee a more substan- 
 tial encouragement than she had given hitherto, and, 
 as Flora suggested, she was the person who best could 
 arrange the matter. 
 
 Gray's first plan, formed on reading Flora's letter, 
 was to go back with Kelly to Ledge, and proceed by 
 steamer to Zenith, at the head of the great lake, from 
 which point he could communicate with Mrs. May bury 
 by wire ; this done, he might return to Ledge, and the 
 magic reaches of the Popple, and the wild waters be- 
 ». 352 
 
THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 yond; to paddle and pack, and the joys of the un- 
 known trail. 
 
 But on the second reading of Miss Matheson's com- 
 munication, he wondered whether it would not be bet- 
 ter to go on to the city, and reason personally with a 
 headstrong young woman who talked f oolidily of im- 
 muring herself in Swiftwater, wasting her God-given 
 genius on the desert air of a remote hamlet. She must 
 be made to see how selfish and absurd was such a de- 
 cision : she owed a sacred duty to her art, and no false 
 pride, no trivial scruples, should be allowed to stand 
 in the way of a perfect discharge of this duty. (Pre- 
 cisely what did Flora mean by "a person in whom you 
 may he interested"? A woman's italics are always 
 puzzling. They may possess a deep import, or they 
 may be mere emotional penstrokes, signifying noth- 
 ing.) 
 
 There would be no difficulty about money. Miss 
 Winston would acquiesce if the matter were put to her 
 properly, as it would be. Her friends believed in her : 
 she must be brought to believe in herself. (And what 
 did Flora mean by "You can take that, Churchill, 
 with a grain of salt" ? Probably nothing. Analyzed, 
 the remark failed of special significance. Who would 
 not take with a grain of salt a declaration by a vital 
 
 353 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 young woman, still in her teens, of aversion for the 
 male sex?) 
 
 Was he in love? He did not stop to debate the ques- 
 tion, but sprang up and went over to his neighbor's 
 camp-fire. 
 
 "Is there a boat up to-night, Kelly ?" he inquired. 
 
 The teamster reflected. "Let's see, the Bradshaw 
 is due, ain't she?" 
 
 "Don't you know?" Gray's tone was mildly impa- 
 tient. 
 
 "Thursday night — -that's right," spoke up one of 
 the cruisers, who was paring potatoes for the evening 
 meal. "She'll be along 'bout midnight." 
 
 The other woodsman volunteered the information 
 that there would not be another boat up till Monday. 
 
 Gray pulled his tent-stakes with the haste of a man 
 who fears the cooling of a sudden resolution. Was he 
 in love? The question did not press, but time did. 
 He had a scant six hours to cover the twenty miles to 
 Ledge. Ericsson's heavy team required twelve, so 
 rocky was the road. 
 
 He put a change of clothing and some small articles 
 into his pack-sack, and strapped a poncho outside. 
 The tent, blanket and supplies were stowed under the 
 canoe, against the threatening shower. One of the 
 
 S54i 
 
THE CAMP ON THE POPPLE 
 
 cruisers lent a hand to the camp-breaking, and Gray, 
 abruptly reminded of the Lake of Dreams, turned to 
 him with the inquiry : 
 
 "By the way, did you ever happen on a pond about 
 two miles east of Loon Lake?" 
 
 "Guess you mean Mud Lake, don't you ?" the other 
 ventured. 
 
 "It's not named on my map. Some two miles long 
 by a mile wide. Stream runs north out of it." 
 
 "Yes; that's Mud Lake," said the woodsman em- 
 phatically. "Tamarack clear round it, and the water 
 'd make a dog sick. I've struck some lonesome holes, 
 friend, but Mud Lake's the damnedest ditch I ever 
 got into." 
 
 Gray smiled. "I was thinking of camping there, 
 but I've changed my mind. Much obliged for your 
 assistance." He swung his pack to his shoulders and 
 lighted his pipe. 
 
 The teamster approached with a lantern. "Better 
 take this along," he said. "If the shower ketches you 
 on Pine Mountain you'll have a job keepin' the trail. 
 Goin' to leave your outfit here?" ^ 
 
 "No. I want you to haul it in to-morrow and stow 
 it in Ericsson's barn. I may be back in a fortnight. 
 Good-by, boys !" 
 
 355 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Gray waved his hand and set off at a four-mile 
 pace; and Kelly, looking after, remarked to his com- 
 panions : 
 
 "Guess that letter was from his best girl, he's in 
 such a thunderin' hurry to answer it." 
 
 356 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE LANTERN BEAEER 
 
 Beyond the river the trail south flung uphill 
 through a belt of pine, debouching on a burnt plain 
 brushed with second-growth firs and poplars. Here 
 the air, lifeless for hours, was beginning to stir again. 
 The poplar leaves, tireless friskers, first responded, 
 and presently set a mad pace for the lower herbage. 
 The blue of the sky was slowly blotted out. A rain- 
 drop plashed against the cheek of the young man 
 striding over the plain. 
 
 Past the burning the path pitched down through 
 another zone of dense forest, to the foot of Pine Moun- 
 tain. There was scarcely enoiigh light in this green 
 gorge to mark the rocks that strewed it, and Gray 
 
 357 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 lighted the lantern. Instantly nature took up the 
 feeble challenge: a white flash rent the gloom, the 
 thunder called to the hills, and the clouds opened. 
 
 The Lantern Bearer unstrapped his poncho and put 
 it about his shoulders. By the time he reached the 
 lane's end and emerged into the open the rain was fall- 
 ing steadily in thick slanting rods. A brook which 
 crossed the road, remembered as a stream of uncom- 
 mon limpidness, was already roiled and foam-flecked. 
 Darkness had closed in, and the lantern proved indis- 
 pensable. Its light was small, but it was steady. 
 
 Up the grassy slope of Pine Mountain, long since 
 swept bare of heavy timber by forest fires, only wheel- 
 tracks marked the way. The ridge seemed again 
 ablaze. Sheets of flame defined weirdly the crest of 
 the acclivity, and the brief intervals between the thun- 
 der-claps were filled with the crashing of dead pines, 
 brought to earth at last. Only the stoutest of the 
 sapless boles could stand against this gale. Gray, 
 fighting his way up the last pitch, was beaten to his 
 knees again and again, and finally forced to crouch 
 against a giant boulder on the summit. He was 
 drenched, spent in wind and muscle; yet it was good 
 to be abroad on such a night. Exultant, he rose from 
 a position he felt to be abject, but he could not stand 
 
 35S 
 
THELANTfiRN BEARER 
 
 against the wind and water that swept the boulder's 
 top. 
 
 Each electrical discharge disclosed, for a vivid in- 
 stant, the circling solitude — beaten shrubs and 
 grasses ; groves of poplars bending low, as one tree, 
 before the gusts; blackened skeletons of pines, a 
 ghostly company. One magnificent flash showed a 
 lake three miles away, and the lone spectator on the 
 hilltop, half-stunned by the appalling explosions, 
 found himself watching eagerly for another flash to 
 match it. But the best was past ; the Jovian artillery 
 swept north; the wind fell, and the deluge dwindled 
 to a patter. Gray resumed his journey. 
 
 In the deep forest beyond Pine Mountain the trail 
 was easy to keep, and his mind was free to consider 
 the adventure on which he was embarked. 
 
 Was he in love? The matter wore that face, he con- 
 fessed; yet he withheld the "Yea." It had all come 
 upon him so suddenly. Flora's letter had not only 
 disturbed his woodland peace, but promised to disturb 
 his still more treasured peace of mind. This had meant 
 much to him in the past, and should be preserved at 
 all hazards. After all, he told himself, it would be no 
 great matter if he missed the up boat ; he could take 
 a steamer down the lake the following day, and drop 
 
 359 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 off at the first telegraph station, somewhere in Canada. 
 Unconsciously his pace slackened. 
 
 Lighter grew the way through the wood ; the moon 
 was up. Though no breeze stirred, the air was cool 
 and sweet, and grateful forest odors issued from the 
 dripping shadows. Somewhere a white- throated spar- 
 row piped a hymn of thanksgiving for the passing of 
 the deluge. An owl flew up on noiseless wing and es- 
 tablished a footing farther on, only to be put to flight 
 again by the strange shape that walked the trail. 
 
 The Lantern Bearer halted for a breathing spell at 
 the foot of the last ridge to be ascended, in a natural 
 meadow through which a small stream coursed. Save 
 for the brawling of this upstart pluvial torrent, the 
 serenity of the summer night was undisturbed. In- 
 finite peace brooded over the wild. 
 
 The hush was prelude to another convulsion of na- 
 ture, though of quite a different sort. The young 
 man stretched upon the bridge of corduroy, smoking 
 a long-deferred pipe, suddenly sprang up, adjusted 
 his pack-sack on his shoulders, and began rapidly to 
 climb the ridge. 
 
 Chill and discomfort vanished from his rain-soaked 
 clothing; weariness fell away from him; his pack, 
 originally light, became imponderable as ether; the 
 
 860 
 
THE LANT^TrN bearer 
 
 roots that grew across the trail essayed in vain to 
 snare his flying feet. The air was his element : he was 
 in love ! At last he knew it ! 
 
 He was in love ! And the most important thing in 
 the world was to get to Ledge in time to catch the 
 steamer. Ledge was ninety-odd miles from the rail- 
 way, and there would not be another boat up for four 
 days. But he should not miss the Bradshaw. The old 
 tub never pretended to arrive anywhere on time, and 
 was commonly hours late. . . . 
 
 A distant hoot pricked him, as spur a jaded horse. 
 Damn the Bradshaw! Was she punctual for the first 
 time in her spiritless life? . . . No; it was an 
 owl, striking terror to the heart of some wretched 
 mouse or rabbit. He breathed easier — ^figuratively; 
 actually he was breathing hard. For even a young 
 man who has been suddenly overwhelmed by the dis- 
 covery that he loves a young woman, and whose first 
 subsequent desire, thought and purpose is to bridge 
 the hours and miles that separate them, — even such a 
 one can not run uphill, over a rough road, for any 
 considerable time. Love is long, maybe — but breath 
 is short, and muscles tire. The gods are dead that once 
 annihilated time and space to make two lovers happy. 
 
 On another occasion our Lantern Bearer would have 
 S6l 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 found the stretch of timber through which he was 
 hasting an enchanted wood. The moon, full-circled, 
 was up the sky, flushing the forest way with pure 
 white light, and every bend in the trail disclosed a 
 picture of uncommon beauty: flanking columns of 
 spruces magnificently plumed and silver birches of 
 prodigious girth — a single subject, but in composi- 
 tion infinitely varied. The moonlight shimmered on 
 the rainpools, and picked out from the wayside green 
 the showy blossoms of the bunchberry. The scent of 
 twinflower, which carpeted the virgin woodland, floated 
 in the air. A night and scene to match a lover's mood. 
 
 An accepted lover's — yes; not the mood of one 
 whose love is as yet untold, and whose mind is in a 
 tumult. 
 
 How to declare his passion (a task beset with diffi- 
 culties of his own erecting), how to reconcile it with 
 words and actions past — this did not cry for immedi- 
 ate consideration. The matter of prime importance 
 was to catch the Bradshaw, That lost, four days 
 would be lost. Four days! Ninety-six hours! Eter- 
 nity! 
 
 The summit of the ridge at last. He drew a deep 
 breath. He was in time. The little fishing hamlet of 
 Ledge was still five miles away, but he could see the 
 
 S62 
 
THE LANTEiaN BEARER 
 
 whole of the moonlit bay, and ten miles of the dark, 
 deserted shore-line to the east. No steamer light was 
 visible. 
 
 The last descent was plain sailing, over a fair 
 wagon road, and for the most of the way the great 
 lake was in view. Distant, its bosom seemed unruf- 
 fled; but as Gray wound down the hill an ominous 
 sound was borne up to him — the booming of the surf. 
 The southwest storm had raised a heavy sea, too 
 heavy, perhaps, to launch a boat in. There was no 
 harborage at Ledge. In ordinary weather the steam- 
 ers lay to within half a mile of the shore, and skiffs 
 put out to take off passengers and supplies. In 
 heavy weather communication was suspended. 
 
 Familiar with these facts. Gray apprehended that 
 the Bradshaw would pass Ledge by without a whistle ; 
 but if he could get a boat out the captain would stop 
 and pick him up. Time pressed now in earnest. At 
 any moment the steamer's light might flash off the 
 headland to the east, and she would hold her course, 
 more than a mile from shore. 
 
 The village was sound asleep. Even the house of 
 Ericsson, whose business it was to meet the steamers, 
 was dark. A glance at the lake disclosed the sufficient 
 reason. A tremendous sea was pounding on the rocky 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 shore. No communication with the Bradshaw was pur- 
 posed. 
 
 The Lantern Bearer battered at Ericsson's door, 
 wondering whether even so loud a summons would be 
 heard above the roar of the surf. Eventually it was. 
 A woman's voice answered him from an upper window. 
 No; Mr. Ericsson was not at home; he had "gone into 
 the woods" for a day or two. Perhaps Gus Jansen 
 would take Mr. Gray out to the steamer. But was not 
 the lake too rough.? Mr, Jansen's place .^^ It was the 
 first above the school-house. 
 
 Gray thanked the woman, and as he turned away 
 he saw the Bradshaw^s light. She was perhaps ten 
 miles distant and standing well out. He ran down to 
 the shore and cast loose one of the skiffs huddled in 
 a lagoon at the mouth of a creek. 
 
 A shower of spray flew over him. He straightened 
 up, and for a full minute looked the adventure in the 
 face. Could he get through the breakers? And be- 
 yond — could he drive the skiff a mile or more through 
 such a sea? Dare he venture it? . . . Pooh! On 
 such a night Leander swam the Hellespont and 
 drowned for love. 
 
 He sprang into the shallow lagoon, lashed the lan- 
 tern to the skiff's stern-thwart, and advanced to the 
 
 364> 
 
THE LANTE-RN BEARER 
 
 line of the surf. When the biggest roller broke he 
 pushed his cockle-shell into the smother and scrambled 
 aboard. 
 
 The sedate old Bradshaw was forging a slow but 
 steady way through the tumbling southwest sea. She 
 rolled a great deal, to the discomfort of her passen- 
 gers, many of whom, despite the hour, preferred the 
 deck to cabin or state-room. The chatty revenue of- 
 ficer was remarking to a young woman in a golf cape 
 that it is indeed an ill wind that blows nobody good : 
 thanks to the gale the Bradshaw^s passengers would 
 reach the head of the lake several hours ahead of 
 time, as no attempts would be made to touch at the 
 fishing villages and lumber camps along the shore. 
 
 The young woman wondered how the captain could 
 know where he was at a given time, the coast was so 
 monotonously indistinguishable. 
 
 "His watch tells him," explained the officer, glanc- 
 ing at his own. "We are passing Ledge now. That 
 lift in the shore-line is the high land back of the vil- 
 lage. A very pretty place by day." 
 
 "What is that light ahead, bobbing up and down ?" 
 the young woman asked. "It's gone now. There it 
 comes again !" 
 
 S65 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 The revenue officer looked. "There is a light, sure 
 enough." He turned to a silent man who stood by the 
 wheel-house window : "Who's fool enough to put out 
 to-night, Ole.?" 
 
 The mate, who had seen the light some minutes be- 
 fore, reached for the whistle cord and blew a long 
 blast. 
 
 "He's got his nerve with him, whoever he is," pur- 
 sued the revenue officer. "It must be Gus Jansen. 
 He's a daring old Norwegian, and will take any 
 chance." 
 
 "The Viking spirit still lives!" the young woman 
 exclaimed romantically. 
 
 "Starboard!" said the mate, and rang the engine 
 bell. 
 
 As the Bradshaw bore down on the Viking craft, 
 the position of her master was seen to be precarious. 
 With one desperate oar he was holding her nose up 
 to the sea, and was bailing with his free hand. The 
 skiff was on the verge of swamping. 
 
 "That isn't Jansen," said the revenue man. "Come 
 below. Miss, and watch the landing." 
 
 A line made fast forward of the steamer was flung 
 to the adventurer. He caught it, and the skiff swung 
 in. Two deck-hands leaned over the aft gangway rail, 
 
 366 
 
THE LANTE-RN BEARER 
 
 and when the Bradshaw rolled down they reached for 
 our Lantern Bearer. 
 
 Clinging to his pack-sack, he came aboard flying, 
 and landed limply on the deck, where he lay still, eyes 
 closed. The young woman in the golf cape, observ- 
 ing his complete exhaustion, bent over him sympathet- 
 ically. He was, unexpectedly, a youthful Viking, and 
 very good to look upon. 
 
 He opened his eyes, and regarded her wonderingly. 
 And thinking of another face, he smiled. 
 
 367 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE I.OVE QUEST 
 
 Every berth aboard the Bradshaw being occupied, 
 Gray, rolled in a blanket, couched on the cabin floor, 
 while his wardrobe dried in the engine-room. The lake 
 flattened out by sunrise, and the steamer held a 
 straight course for Zenith, establishing an infrequent 
 connection with the noon train for the metropolis. 
 
 Thanks to the luxurious appointments of this train. 
 Gray was able to make himself and his garments pre- 
 sentable again. His left arm hung limp, transiently 
 disabled from his battle with the lake waves ; and, to 
 his eye, coach' and passengers and country-side were 
 curiously unstable — ^he still felt himself pitching on 
 whitecapped waters. Otherwise the adventure had no 
 
 ill effect. 
 
 368 
 
THE LOVE QUEST 
 
 He bought a magazine and tried to read a short 
 story, but he could not keep his mind upon the page. 
 When one is living a love story, how attenuated seem 
 the creations of the weavers of tales ! So he tossed 
 the magazine away and paced the buffet coach, smok- 
 ing pipe after pipe, and wondering why it took so 
 long to change engines, and to take water, and to get 
 under way after leaving a station. He had his berth 
 made up unusually early, that he might sleep as many 
 hours away as possible^ — and then lay awake past 
 midnight. 
 
 The noon hour was again striking when he reached 
 the city. He hailed a cab, but, reflecting that that was 
 too slow for the long stretch to Atwood Street, he 
 looked around for an automobile. None being avail- 
 able, he compromised on a trolley car. 
 
 Then he wished he had chosen the cab. The car 
 track appeared obstructed more than commonly with 
 grocer carts and drays, the drivers of which were ex- 
 asperatingly deliberate in turning out. Once before a 
 certain stretch of the way had seemed interminable — 
 that night, the autumn past, when he and Hope had 
 ridden out in awkward silence, relieved by the young 
 woman's touching the conductor's arm and saying: 
 "Atwood Street, please." He recalled the little trem- 
 
 369 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 ble in her voice, the red spot in cheek, the flash in eye. 
 But her resentment proved transient; he had exhib- 
 ited a proper repentance, and had been forgiven. If 
 the meetings that followed were infrequent, he had 
 himself to blame : always she had seemed to take pleas- 
 ure in his company. On one occasion — in the park — 
 he fancied he read in her eyes something more than 
 friendship; and he felt himself slipping from the se- 
 curity of self -elimination ; but it was only a passing 
 peril. Their relations, it is true, were not materially 
 altered; nor had the argument that Miss Winston 
 should sacrifice everything to her art lost any of its 
 original force. He was prepared still to urge it — if 
 taxed with inconsistency ; or, in certain circumstances, 
 to recant. This was a problem the solution of which 
 might best be left to the inspiration of propinquity. 
 The present time was more profitably employed in 
 re-creating the image of the young woman, in antici- 
 pating her surprise at his appearance, the pressure of 
 her hand, a hoped-for look in her eyes that should tell 
 him he was more than welcome. He rode the last block 
 to Atwood Street on the car step, debarked without 
 waiting for a slow-down, and walked rapidly to 
 No. 69. 
 
 Mrs. Grady answered the bell. At the mention of 
 370 
 
THE LCrVE QUEST 
 
 Miss Winston's name her face lighted up, only to 
 cloud again. The young lady no longer abided with 
 her; nor could she say or remember whither she had 
 removed. But Madame Jesurin would know, and if 
 the gentleman would step up stairs Madame would be 
 in shortly. 
 
 Gray hesitated. Flora would know her friend's ad- 
 dress ; but, then. Flora might not be at home . 
 
 "Thank you; I will wait a few minutes," he said, 
 and followed up stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Grady's kitchen was also her reception-hall 
 and dining-room ; and as she was preparing her lunch- 
 eon when the door-bell rang, a cup of tea was hospi- 
 tably suggested to the visitor. While the kettle sang, 
 Mrs. Grady, occultly apprised that she had a sympa- 
 thetic audience, launched upon an appreciation of her 
 late tenant. Such a beautiful young lady ! — so sweet- 
 natured, so entirely lovable. (Affirmative nods from 
 the visitor. ) 'Twas a sad day when she departed ; an 
 especially sad day for Patrick, the fetcher of coals, 
 who, deprived of his guardian angel, had fallen from 
 grace after months of sobriety. 
 
 Encouraged by interrogations markedly casual, 
 Mrs. Grady rendered a faithful account of Miss Wins- 
 ton's life at No. 69. The two little rooms were just 
 
 371 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 as she left them : perhaps Mr. Gray would like to peep 
 in. He exhibited an interest more than polite. 
 
 In this tiny apartment Miss Winston had conducted 
 her housekeeping. And a smart little cook she was, 
 too — a point Mrs. Grady thought worthy of emphasis. 
 In this larger room Miss Winston had lived and 
 worked. Mrs. Grady was thoughtfully silent while 
 the young man surveyed the blessed domicile. Then 
 she was suddenly reminded of a handkerchief which 
 Miss Winston had gone away without. As Mr. Gray 
 was to see the young lady that day, he might take the 
 "thrifle" along with him. The readiness with which 
 he accepted the square of linen bordered on grati- 
 tude. ' 
 
 "WirMich, wirMich Sle, Mr. Gray!" 
 
 Madame Jesurin appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "What a pleasure! How well you are looking!" 
 she continued. "Nature is such a restorer. The woods, 
 I love them! But why do you come back to the hot 
 city so soon.?" 
 
 He replied that he had returned on a matter of 
 business. 
 
 "Mr. Gray is wantin' to know Miss Hope's prisint 
 addhress," Mrs. Grady explained, with a twinkling 
 eye. 
 
 872 
 
THE LOVE QUEST 
 
 **Ac1i, she has left the city !" cried Madame. "She 
 is at her home in Clearwater — or is it Swiftwater?" 
 
 Alas, it was only too true ; Hope had departed the 
 afternoon before; Madame was so informed by Ar- 
 thur West, whom she had chanced upon an hour ago. 
 Gray's disappointment was mirrored in his face ; Mrs. 
 Grady's was vocal. 
 
 "Come, now, and have the cup of tay," she adjured 
 the young man ; " 'twill cheer ye up." 
 
 He laughed, perforce, and the women with him; 
 and the three went into the kitchen. 
 
 While the tea was sipped, the exhaustless topic of 
 Miss Winston was pursued. Madame Jesurin recalled 
 the October day when, in a railway carriage, she first 
 met Princess Hope, and instantly was attracted to 
 her — as who was not.? Mrs. Grady, for her part, re- 
 vived memories of Hope's first appearance in her hum- 
 ble flat, and of the appetizing luncheon to which the 
 young woman had invited her and Madame. "Sure, I 
 niver expected to take tay with a Princess," Mrs. 
 Grady declared. 
 
 Observing their guest's mystification, Madame Jes- 
 urin laughed softly. Perhaps Mr. Gray had never 
 heard about the Prince and the Chariot? He con- 
 fessed ignorance; whereupon he was informed of 
 
 372 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 Alice Winston's childish fancy, and was deeply Inter- 
 ested therein. 
 
 "Ye have the handkerchief?" Mrs. Grady whis- 
 pered, when he took his leave. 
 
 He assured her that it was quite safe in his 
 pocket. 
 
 " 'Tis fine weather for a thrip to the country," she 
 observed, with a benedictory smile. "Good luck to ye, 
 Mr. Gray." 
 
 He went down the stairs feeling rather foolish, and 
 baselessly happy. 
 
 With the return of his little fortune, increased 
 fourfold by the lucky turn in young Matheson's 
 speculation, Gray had shifted his residence to a more 
 desirable section of the city. To these apartments he 
 now repaired in a cab, and made preparations against 
 a flying trip to Swiftwater. Then he telephoned to 
 Mrs. Maybury to say that he was on his way to con- 
 sult with her in a certain matter. 
 
 The certain matter, he discovered, had already been 
 disposed of, so far as Mrs. Maybury could do so. 
 That morning she had answered a farewell letter 
 from Hope, urging the girl to return to the city, after 
 a brief visit home, and had offered to finance her mu- 
 sical career. 
 
 374 
 
THE LOVE QUEST 
 
 "If persuasion Is needed, Churchill, I leave it to 
 you," Mrs. Maybury said, smiling. 
 
 "My skill in that line is small," he said. 
 
 "It will suffice in this case, I think," she returned 
 significantly. 
 
 He rode away in some perplexity. Like Mrs. Grady 
 and Madame Jesurin, Mrs. Maybury seemed without 
 reason to take an extremely doubtful matter for 
 granted. But women, he philosophized, will help 
 along, with a smile or a word of encouragement, the 
 most promising or most desperate affair : this side the 
 altar no cause is counted lost. 
 
 In his accumulated mail at the Post office. Gray 
 found a brief note from Hope. She was going home, 
 she wrote, and did not expect to return to the city. 
 She wished to thank him for his many kindnesses 
 (some of which she had recently learned of through 
 accident) : for the opportunity to hear much beauti- 
 ful music; for the picture of Brahms, which she 
 should always prize ; and for his enlightening counsel, 
 the wisdom of which she had come, somewhat tardily, 
 perhaps, to appreciate. He had been one of her good 
 influences. . . , 
 
 It was the first note he had ever received from her, 
 and it gave him a curious thrill. After a futile at- 
 
 375 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 tempt to analyze the sensation, he read and thrilled 
 again. 
 
 Alice Winston popping into his head, he instructed 
 the cabman to drive to a book-store, where he pur- 
 chased the Blue Fairy Book, and the Green, and the 
 Red, and all the other colors. The child should not 
 lack entertainment the coming winter. 
 
 As the first available train for Swiftwater did not 
 leave for two hours, he decided to look up Flora 
 Matheson and Karl Geist. The former, he learned, 
 was out of the city ; the latter had departed from be- 
 neath the roof of the Colossus, and had set up an es- 
 tablishment of his own. 
 
 Geist greeted his friend gravely and without sur- 
 prise. The effects of the ordeal were visible in the mu- 
 sician's face. He seemed much older; his boyishness 
 had flown. His pupils being at present few, there was 
 opportunity for a talk, and Gray learned the "some- 
 thing back of it all" which was not included in the 
 sum of Flora's information, and which explained Prin- 
 cess Hope's "intense aversion for the male sex." 
 
 "Her sentiments are natural enough," said Geist; 
 "but I fancy that the right man could modify them — 
 in time." 
 
 Gray mentioned, somewhat hastily, that Mrs. May- 
 376 
 
THE LOfE QUEST 
 
 bury had written to Miss Winston, adding: "I am 
 going to Swiftwater to persuade her to accept the 
 offer." 
 
 Geist nodded. "That matter will take care of it- 
 self. You would better sing her another tune." 
 
 The other colored. Somehow, unwarranted infer- 
 ences by one of his own sex were embarrassing. 
 
 "Shall you return to the woods after you have per- 
 suaded Miss Winston to accept Mrs. Maybury's of- 
 fer?" Geist asked, with a flicker of a smile. 
 
 "I think so — ^yes," said Gray. 
 
 "Is your suggestion, that I join you, still in force?" 
 
 "In full force and effect. Will you come ?" 
 
 Geist laughed, in his old manner. "Ye-es — if you 
 decide to go," he replied. 
 
 377 
 
' CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 IN WHICH THE PRINCE COMES 
 
 "May It please your royal highness, it is now about 
 fifty years since I heard from my father, who heard 
 my grandfather say, that there was in this castle a 
 princess, the most beautiful ever seen; that she must 
 sleep there a hundred years, and should be waked 
 by a ki/ng*s son, for whom she was reserved." 
 
 The young Prince was all on fire at these words, be- 
 lieving, without weighing the matter, that he could 
 put an end to this rare adventure; and, pushed on by 
 love and honor, resolved that moment to look into it. 
 
 They order things so briskly in the tales of old 
 time. There was never prince that weighed the mat- 
 
 378 
 
IN WHICH THE PRINCE COMES 
 
 ter, or doubted the surrender of the lady, once the 
 physical barriers between them had been swept away. 
 Pushed on by love and honor, and mounted on a mira- 
 cle of horseflesh, the least of heroes sets a pace which 
 the most impetuous lover in our day can not match. 
 
 Churchill Gray checked the weary livery horse upon 
 a water-bar, and looked into the valley of the Mad 
 River. It was timbered much the same as his own 
 north country, and surely no stream could be more 
 attractive than the brown Httle river that raced below 
 him in the sunlight. This was her river; she had 
 spoken of it to him more than once; her feet had 
 helped to wear the path on the farther bank. Perhaps 
 if he lingered he should see her tripping by. But 
 lingering was foe to his impatience. The roofs of 
 Swiftwater were in sight. He urged forward the re- 
 luctant horse. 
 
 Mother Winston was putting up preserves when 
 the strange gentleman tapped at the kitchen door. 
 Hastily wiping her hands on her apron, she bade him 
 enter, slightly disconcerted by the keenly-inquiring 
 look he bent upon her. 
 
 "This is Mrs. Winston, I know," he said, putting 
 out his hand. "My name is Gray. Your daughter 
 may have spoken of me." 
 
 379 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Oh, yes; many times — in her letters." The little 
 mother scrutinized him closely in her turn. "You 
 drove over from Vanceburg?" 
 
 "Yes ; and found it a most delightful drive. May I 
 put my horse in the bam?" 
 
 The hired man was summoned to attend to this. 
 
 "You will stay with us to-night, of course.?" said 
 Mrs. Winston. 
 
 "Thank you. I believe there are no more trains un- 
 til to-morrow." 
 
 Gray looked up quickly as a door opened. 
 
 "This is Alice," said Mrs. Winston, as a serious- 
 faced child came into the room. 
 
 "Won't you shake hands, Alice.''" said the visitor. 
 
 She did so gravely, looking at him earnestly with 
 big brown eyes. 
 
 "Hope is somewhere about," said the mother. 
 "Alice will find her." 
 
 "Sister has gone up the river," said the child, ad- 
 dressing Gray. "I will show you the way." 
 
 "Mr. Gray may not wish to walk so far," said Mrs. 
 Winston. 
 
 "On the contrary, I should enjoy it," he declared. 
 Then, in explanation of his appearance in Swift- 
 water: "I came up to see your husband, Mrs. Wins- 
 
 380 
 
IN WHICH THEr PRINCE COMES 
 
 ton, on a matter affecting your daughter's future — 
 her music," he added, more explicitly. 
 
 The little mother sighed. "Hope has not opened 
 the piano, or mentioned music, since coming home. 
 She feels badly, I am afraid, because she can not go 
 on with her studies." 
 
 "She was a little hasty, I think, in giving up be- 
 cause her funds were exhausted. The question of 
 money is really a simple matter, in the case of so great 
 a talent as your daughter possesses." 
 
 "It does not seem simple to us — and Hope is very 
 proud. ... I suppose she plays very well now." 
 
 "Very well, indeed. There will be no difficulty, I 
 hope, when the matter is considered in the right light." 
 Gray rose. "But we will all talk the matter over fully 
 after we find the young lady. Shall we set out, 
 Alice.?" 
 
 "If you please, sir," replied the child ; and the pair 
 quested forth. 
 
 The way led through sweet-smelling meadows bor- 
 dering the little river, to a spot where the vale ab- 
 ruptly narrowed, and the greenwood shut the stream 
 from view. 
 
 As they walked along Gray became conscious that 
 the little lady at his side was studying him intently. 
 
 381 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 He turned his eyes suddenly upon her, surprising 
 forth the question topmost in her mind : 
 
 "Are you the Prince?" 
 
 "I hope so, my dear," he answered, with a gravity 
 to match her own. "But I did not bring my purple 
 chariot; it was such a great distance. And they 
 didn't have anything of the sort at Vanceburg, 
 though I inquired everywhere." 
 
 "Did you come from way, way off, where sister 
 was ?" 
 
 "Yes; from way, way off; from a big kingdom, 
 where there are so many people, you never could count 
 them." 
 
 "Is it at the end of the track.?" 
 
 "The end of the track.? Oh, yes ; the railway stops 
 there. Some day, little one, you too will make a jour- 
 ney to the kingdom." 
 
 Alice shook her head, "I must stay at home and 
 help mother." 
 
 "But mother will go, too. Sister will want you all 
 to come and hear her play, in a great hall where there 
 are thousands of people. There isn't anything like 
 that in the fairy tales, is there?" 
 
 "No," replied Alice, on reflection. "Sister says they 
 didn't have pianos once upon a time. But they had 
 
 382 
 
IN WHICH THE^^PRINCE COMES 
 
 fiddles a hundred years before once upon a time, didn't 
 they? Do you know the one about the Sleeping Beauty 
 in the Wood?" 
 
 "Yes. The Princess slept a hundred years or so, 
 and the court musicians with her; and when they all 
 woke up the violins and the hautboys played tunes 
 that sounded very old-fashioned to the Prince who 
 broke the enchantment, but excellent tunes, for all 
 that. You see, I remember the story very well, for I 
 was reading it only to-day." 
 
 Alice looked up in surprise. *'Do you read fairy 
 books, too?" 
 
 "Not as a general thing. The story happened to be 
 in one of a great many books which I was bringing 
 to a little girl who looks very much like you, and who 
 has a bow of black ribbon over each ear. If you look 
 very carefully in the back of my chariot you may find 
 them." 
 
 They had left the meadow and were entering the 
 wood. 
 
 "I think I will go back now," Alice said abruptly. 
 ^'Perhaps you will meet sister coming home. There is 
 only one road through the trees." 
 
 "I'll manage it somehow," Gray smilingly assured 
 her. 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "Did you say they were in the chariot?" asked the 
 child, her eyes dancing. 
 
 "A stout package, marked *AHce.' You can't miss 
 it." 
 
 "Thank you. Prince," she said, and hurried off, her 
 ribbon bows bobbing up and down. Gray, feeHng 
 very youthful himself, continued with a singing heart 
 along the woodland way. 
 
 There was, as Alice said, but one road through 
 the trees. This clung to the little river, crossing it 
 by a fallen tree every little way, until, the valley 
 dwindling to a narrow pass, it vanished in a maze of 
 alders, from behind which came the sound of water 
 falling in a pool. The path, if it went farther, must 
 be on the other side of the stream. He recalled what 
 had seemed to be a crossing only a little distance 
 back. 
 
 Peering through the green tangle, he marked the 
 silver arc of a cascade; and apprised by the beating 
 of his heart that his quest was at an end, he decided 
 to attempt a passage through the alders. These were 
 so thickly set that, clinging to the wall of the pass, 
 one might find footing on their branches. He ad- 
 vanced cautiously, for the stream below was of un- 
 known depth. Suddenly he descried above his head a 
 
 384 
 
IN WHICH TH^ PRINCE COMES 
 
 solitary strawberry, pendent from a crevice in the 
 cliff. 
 
 He reached for it, but his grasp fell short. He 
 reached again — and slipped from the bridge of alders, 
 dropping knee-deep in river water. But he had the 
 strawberry. 
 
 385 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 A ND THE SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKENS 
 
 And now, as the enchantment mas at an end, the ^ 
 Princess awakened, and looking' on him with eyes more 
 tender than the first view might seem to admit of: "/s 
 it you, my Frince^^ she said to him. ^'You have 
 waited a long while." 
 
 Princess Hope sat up and rubbed her eyes. Had 
 she really seen a face among the alders on the thither 
 side of the pool? Or was it only a part of her day- 
 dream, no more real than the voices of flutes and horns 
 and violins, floating up from the river? 
 
 How far away now seemed her brief existence in the 
 world beyond her valley! — more remote than it had 
 
 386 
 
SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKENS 
 
 seemed a year ago. We may speak of the "near fu- 
 ture," but the past is never nearer than "Yesterday's 
 sev'n thousand years." 
 
 She thought of her former friends as of the people 
 of another planet that she had been privileged to visit 
 overnight. And distance softened the hardest out- 
 lines, the most unlovely traits. Once she had voted 
 Madame Jesurin a bore ; now she remembered only her 
 kindness of heart, her real affection, her innocent en- 
 thusiasms, her unfailing good nature. She hoped 
 Madame would have many new language students, and 
 would not have to economize so painfully as in the 
 past. Probably she would lose one of her best-paying 
 patrons, Arthur West. Poor dear Arthur! he would 
 get over his disappointment in time, and he would al- 
 ways remember her kindly, she felt certain. 
 
 Flora and Mr. Jones would be married in October, 
 and no doubt would live happily ever afterward. She 
 had been greatly surprised when she learned of Flora's 
 choice, but she could see now that the pair were well 
 mated. Ten years hence, if she should by any chance 
 revisit the glimpses of the city moon, she would find 
 Stanley and Flora a sedate and doting couple, sur- 
 rounded by an interesting family. 
 
 We are all, beloved reader, — with whom I must soon 
 387 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 part, — ^we are all, in a way, dreamers of "plots," 
 given, when the mood is on, to continuing the life 
 stories of men and women we have known. Likely we 
 shall not set eyes on them again, nor hear aught con- 
 cerning them, so our fancy is unhampered. Some of 
 the stories we know will run smoothly to the end; 
 others, we foresee, will be tempestuous, and we think 
 we could point out the particular rock on which a par- 
 ticular matrimonial bark will split. It is harmless di- 
 version, this sort of story-weaving — provided that we 
 keep the matter to ourselves. 
 
 Princess Hope looked closely at the alders again. 
 They were visibly agitated, and not by wind or cur- 
 rent. Presently she heard a splash, and a smothered 
 exclamation. A young man floundered through the 
 greenery, and, seeing her, waved a dripping hat. 
 
 She sprang up and called to him excitedly: "You 
 must go back — and around!" — pointing to the cas- 
 cade. 
 
 Impossible, wildly impossible suggestion! He 
 splashed through the pool, waist-deep, his eyes on her 
 face, and he laughed gaily when she took his hand 
 and helped him up the bank, commiserating him on 
 his plight. 
 
 "The cause of my undoing, and now itself undone," 
 388 
 
^ 
 
 ..^.- 
 
 He splashed through the pool, his eyes on her face Page j88 
 
SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKENS 
 
 he said, exhibiting the strawberry, crushed against 
 his palm. "Will you still accept it?" 
 
 Hope put the tiny fruit to her mouth. Berry, lips 
 and cheeks were of one color. 
 
 They sat together on the log of a dead cedar, 
 brought down by some spring freshet, 
 
 "Confess," he said, "that I was the very last person 
 in the world that you thought to see." 
 
 "You were last in my thoughts," she answered 
 tremulously. "But I pictured you in another valley, 
 by wilder waters. Did you find the I^ke of Dreams.?" 
 
 "I have come to seek it here." 
 
 Her heart leaped to the message which the speech 
 conveyed. 
 
 "But — ^how should you know I was here? I came 
 only two days ago." 
 
 "So our mutual friend, Madame Jesurin, informed 
 me." 
 
 "You have been to the city ?" 
 
 For answer he drew forth the handkerchief which 
 Mrs. Grady had intrusted to him — ^laughing and hold- 
 ing it beyond her reach when, scarlet-faced, she put 
 out a hand for it. Then, to allay her confusion ; "You 
 got Mrs. Maybury's letter?" 
 
 "This morning." 
 
 389 
 
THE CHARLATANS 
 
 "I followed to urge a favorable consideration," he 
 solemnly answered. 
 
 "Why did you return to the city?" she persisted. 
 
 "A letter from Flora, advising me that the cause of 
 music was in danger." 
 
 "You gave up your beloved wilderness, and jour- 
 neyed a thousand miles, to urge . . . " 
 
 "Dear, I came because I love you." 
 
 Her eyes had compelled the avowal. Now, the sud- 
 den tears that brimmed them, the trembling hand 
 placed in his, betokened a love of no new birth. 
 
 "I have wanted you so long," she whispered, when 
 his arms were round her; "longer, much longer, than 
 you have wanted me." 
 
 This he denied, with all a lover's assurance, and the 
 question of the antecedence of respective passions was 
 debated, as it has been debated since time was young. 
 
 "I have wanted you more than music, Churchill^" 
 she confessed. "I vowed allegiance to music, and 
 played the traitor." 
 
 He kissed her eyes and hair. "We are traitors both, 
 beloved." 
 
 "Dear," she said, laying her cheek to his, "I have 
 never heard any music — not a note. It will be all so 
 new, so wonderfully beautiful." 
 
 390 
 
SLEEPING BETaUTY AWAKENS 
 
 They planned the future while the shadows length- 
 ened and the rose-light gathered above the valley. All 
 at once she was greatly concerned about the possible 
 effect of the wetting he had received. But he scouted 
 the notion, and told her of a better wetting two nights 
 before. 
 
 Boy and girl, they scrambled up the cascade's ter- 
 race, and footed, hand in hand, the woodland way. 
 And the little river that ran beside them laughed for 
 very joy — the little river of many moods and many, 
 many voices. 
 
^ 
 
^ 
 

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