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work；'' said the philosophical violinist
‘‘Annihilation of one's own identity in the moment is possible in
nature's domainnever in man's。 The resistless； never…ending rush of the
waters； madly churning； pitilessly dashing against the rocks below； the
mighty roar of the loosened giant； that was Niagara。 My picture seemed
but a smear of paint。''
‘‘Still； man has won the admiration of man by his achievements；'' he
said。
‘‘Alas； for me；'' she sighed； ‘‘I have not felt it。''
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The Fifth String
‘‘Surely you have been stirred by the wonders man has accomplished
in music's realm？'' Diotti ventured。
‘‘I never have been。'' She spoke sadly and reflectively。
‘‘But does not the passion…laden theme of a master； or the marvelous
feeling of a player awaken your emotions？'' persisted he。
She stood leaning lightly against a pillar by the fountain。 ‘‘I never hear
a pianist； however great and famous； but I see the little cream…colored
hammers within the piano bobbing up and down like acrobatic brownies。 I
never hear the plaudits of the crowd for the artist and watch him return to
bow his thanks； but I mentally demand that these little acrobats； each
resting on an individual pedestal； and weary from his efforts； shall appear
to receive a share of the applause。
‘‘When I listen to a great singer；'' continued this world…defying skeptic；
‘‘trilling like a thrush； scampering over the scales； I see a clumsy lot of ah；
ah； ahs； awkwardly； uncertainly ambling up the gamut； saying； ‘were it not
for us she could not sing thusgive us our meed of praise。' ''
Slowly he replied： ‘‘Masters have written in wondrous language and
masters have played with wondrous power。''
‘‘And I so long to hear；'' she said； almost plaintively。 ‘‘I marvel at the
invention of the composer and the skill of the player； but there I cease。''
He looked at her intently。 She was standing before him； not a block of
chiseled ice； but a beautiful； breathing woman。 He offered her his arm and
together they made their way to the drawing…room。
‘‘Perhaps； some day； one will come who can sing a song of perfect
love in perfect tones； and your soul will be attuned to his melody。''
‘‘Perhapsand good…night；'' she softly said； leaving his arm and
joining her friends； who accompanied her to the carriage。
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The Fifth String
II
The intangible something that places the stamp of popular approval on
one musical enterprise； while another equally artistic and as cleverly
managed languishes in a condition of unendorsed greatness； remains one
of the unsolved mysteries。
When a worker in the vineyard of music or the drama offers his
choicest tokay to the public； that fickle coquette may turn to the more
ordinary and less succulent concord。 And the worker and the public itself
know not why。
It is true； Diotti's fame had preceded him； but fame has preceded
others and has not always been proof against financial disaster。 All this
preliminary；and it is but necessary to recall that on the evening of
December the twelfth Diotti made his initial bow in New York； to an
audience that completely filled every available space in the Academy of
Musica representative audience； distinguished alike for beauty； wealth
and discernment。
When the violinist appeared for his solo； he quietly acknowledged the
cordial reception of the audience； and immediately proceeded with the
business of the evening。 At a slight nod from him the conductor rapped
attention； then launched the orchestra into the introduction of the concerto；
Diotti's favorite； selected for the first number。 As the violinist turned to the
conductor he faced slightly to the left and in a direct line with the second
proscenium box。 His poise was admirable。 He was handsome； with the
olive…tinted warmth of his southern homefairly tall； straight… limbed and
lithea picture of poetic grace。 His was the face of a man who trusted
without reserve； the manner of one who believed implicitly； feeling that
good was universal and evil accidental。
As the music grew louder and the orchestra approached the peroration
of the preface of the coming solo； the violinist raised his head slowly。
Suddenly his eyes met the gaze of the solitary occupant of the second
proscenium box。 His face flushed。 He looked inquiringly； almost
appealingly； at her。 She sat immovable and serene； a lace…framed vision in
white。
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The Fifth String
It was she who； since he had met her； only the night before； held his
very soul in thraldom。
He lifted his bow； tenderly placing it on the strings。 Faintly came the
first measures of the theme。 The melody； noble； limpid and beautiful；
floated in dreamy sway over the vast auditorium； and seemed to cast a
mystic glamour over the player。 As the final note of the first movement
was dying away； the audience； awakening from its delicious trance； broke
forth into spontaneous bravos。
Mildred Wallace； scrutinizing the program； merely drew her wrap
closer about her shoulders and sat more erect。 At the end of the concerto
the applause was generous enough to satisfy the most exacting virtuoso。
Diotti unquestionably had scored the greatest triumph of his career。 But
the lady in the box had remained silent and unaffected throughout。
The poor fellow had seen only her dur… ing the time he played； and the
mighty cheers that came from floor and galleries struck upon his ear like
the echoes of mocking demons。 Leaving the stage he hurried to his
dressing…room and sank into a chair。 He had persuaded himself she should
not be insensible to his genius； but the dying ashes of his hopes； his
dreams； were smouldering； and in his despair came the thought： ‘‘I am not
great enough for her。 I am but a man； her consort should be a god。 Her
soul； untouched by human passion or h