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 /
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 / /Ati>i<^.^t^h^ 
 
 "^^'/J. 
 
 A L C E S T I S. 
 
 So love was crowned, but music won the cause ' 
 
 i3sr rrvT"© voltjivees 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1873 
 
 All risrhts reserved
 
 .8^5 
 C?IGa 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE SECOND VOLUME 
 PART I. — continued 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XII. Lisa's Cares ....... 3 
 
 XIII. Popular Concerts 19 
 
 XIV. At the Villa again 48 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. The Bread of Tears Z^ 
 
 II. Aunt Brigitta to the Rescue . . .110 
 III. A Good-bye 138
 
 vi CONNENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 IV. Check ! 155 
 
 V. The Doctor's Manceuvres . . . .173 
 
 VI. The Unseen Hand 190 
 
 VII. Rejected 213 
 
 VIII. Josquin's Advocate 237 
 
 IX. A Last Tea-Party 252 
 
 X. Alcestis 263 
 
 XI. Starlight 276 
 
 XII. Conclusion 285
 
 X A K. i I . — continued. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LISAS CARES. 
 
 The next morning the little Klosterhaus 
 garden and court resounded once more with 
 the familiar sound of our hero's violin, coming 
 from his open window, and although mingled 
 with the shrill notes of the porter's canary-bird 
 on the first floor, and the ceaseless harpsichord 
 of the house, Josquln's exercises filled one 
 good soul with delight, as she sat In a sort of 
 rapture that morning in the sunshine. Lisa 
 used to say in the old days that she learnt 
 more from Josquln's violin than from any other 
 teaching, and now, after three years' absence, 
 she heard the dear sound again ! And he 
 was there, settled once more near her, and it 
 
 B 2
 
 4 ALCESTIS 
 
 seemed possible that those days were about 
 to return in all their fulness. 
 
 During these years that she had continued 
 to write steadily, as if she suspected no change, 
 she had not been without vague fears about 
 Josquin. Ignorant as she was of the new folks 
 to whom he belonged, she yet exaggerated to 
 herself, in the seclusion she had chosen, the 
 chasm that separated them — the dangers of 
 the gay society in Vienna. She heard of 
 his great success there, but he himself had 
 not written in the buoyancy of any great 
 hope or satisfaction in his art, and his com- 
 positions seemed constantly to fall short. 
 When she had met him, she had been quick 
 to discern the slight nonchalance in his 
 manner ; but Josquin's words had not been 
 those of a young man of the world. He had 
 raved freshly as ever over his new discovery. 
 He was the same, and her fears were dis- 
 pelled. ' With you I hope to work out
 
 LISA'S CARES 
 
 fruitfully all that I have learnt : ' these words 
 and many others had given her unutterable 
 happiness. 
 
 It was a golden picture for the future that 
 Lisa was making to the sound of Josquin's 
 exercises. Who could doubt, she thought, in 
 looking at her friend's intelligent face, and 
 listening to his fiery playing, that he would 
 go on to be a creator himself ? Together 
 they would tread new paths of productiveness. 
 In her happiness the thought of herself did 
 not much occupy Lisa, but she could not but 
 feel that she too had gained something in the 
 last years, that the days of her sad girlhood 
 were over — a girlhood full of anxieties, self- 
 reproaches, and small miseries, and that she 
 was a woman now with a power felt by 
 many. 
 
 And now Regenfurth came in to busy over 
 domestic matters, and, to the surprise of the 
 Gouvernante, Lisa helped to bring order into
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 the room, and began arranging the flowers 
 left on one side the previous night. Then 
 Josquin himself entered and praised the com- 
 fort of it. He brought under his arm a pile 
 of his own manuscripts and the score of the 
 ' Orfeo,' and eager to introduce Lisa to his 
 new-discovered god, he sat down at once 
 to the harpsichord, and the morning quickly 
 passed while he played to her delighted ears 
 the great music of Gluck. 
 
 They were interrupted by visitors. Be- 
 fore Josquin, enjoying herenthusiasm, had 
 time to rise from the instrument, the door 
 was flung open and two men stood in it, 
 bowing to give each other precedence. One 
 was the Capellmeister, the other a tall 
 stranger, whose face was not quite unknown to 
 Josquin. The latter entered at last, followed 
 by Hasse, who carried a roll of music 
 under his arm, and wore those severe and 
 perturbed looks which he seemed to put
 
 LISA'S CARES 
 
 on and off like his spectacles. It seemed 
 evident, in spite of their extreme polite- 
 ness, that he and his companion had been 
 differing all the way. Lisa received them, 
 the one with the manner of a daughter, the 
 other with a shy and defiant air, such as 
 Josquin imagined she might show to her 
 patron. He would have liked to listen to 
 what the stranger said as he addressed her in 
 Italian ; but the Capellmeister had seen him, 
 and came forward with unwonted warmth to 
 greet him. 
 
 ' What, Dorioz ! already here ? 
 
 * Master, I was just coming to you, will 
 you receive me ? I have come back to work.* 
 
 ' Aye, aye ! I have heard all about it 
 from Vulpius. And so you have thought 
 yourself too good to be his Excellency's 
 Kammer-musikus any longer ? Well, come 
 and see us ; Faustina still talks about you. 
 What have you got to tell me ? *
 
 8 ALCESTIS 
 
 Many were the messages Josquin came 
 laden with for the Caro Sassone from all the 
 towns and courts at which he had stayed ; 
 and he began telling him all he could think 
 of, when they were interrupted by the 
 stranger : 
 
 * Dear Maestro, the roll of music, if you 
 please. I will leave it for the Fraulein 
 Vaara to look at, at her leisure ; but I just 
 want her to sing the air of my opera that I 
 think will suit her so admirably.' 
 
 Here Lisa astonished Josquin by 
 breaking in vehemently ; ' If it were your 
 Excellency's opera, I should willingly give 
 it careful study, and sing your music to 
 the best of my ability ; but this mixture you 
 speak of is too little to my taste for me to 
 undertake in any way^' — and she read out 
 from the roll of music, * The Medonte, a new 
 serious opera ; the music selected from the 
 works of Sarti, Anfossi, Branchi, Cremonese,
 
 LISA'S CARES 
 
 adapted and arranged by his Excellency the 
 Count von Plauen, and dedicated to the 
 Fraulein Lisa Vaara by the Transcriber.' 
 
 Here a sudden explosion of laughter from 
 Josquin was met by a severe look from the 
 Capellmeister, who evidently was much in awe 
 of his Excellency. Lisa had read this scheme 
 for an opera with such deep tragedy in her 
 tones and looks that it had sounded irresis- 
 tibly absurd in Josquin s ears. The Count 
 only scowled upon the young man, whom he 
 had not observed before; but even Lisa 
 looked anxiously for a moment to see if the 
 visitor's feelings were much outraged. She 
 seemed to have less power left to resist his 
 importunity after Josquin's rudeness. * I 
 thank your Excellency for your kind 
 dedication, ' she said ; ' you must indeed 
 pardon me, but my prejudices are strong, and 
 I could never give you satisfaction if I sang 
 what so little pleases me, as di pasticcio of this
 
 lo ALCESTIS 
 
 kind. Each thing, good in itself, is destroyed 
 by being cut up/ 
 
 ' Oh ! the pubHc taste requires it ; it is 
 for your own advantage that I want you to 
 sing this music. Your excellent friend the 
 Capellmeister sees with me the necessity for 
 giving a change to the Court. We want to 
 keep a good balance of feeling in our public. 
 Now try this charming Scena with me ; 
 indeed, I am surprised at your resistance.' 
 He looked towards Josquin, and the Capell- 
 meister came up persuasively. 
 
 *Come, Lisa my child, sing it. His Ex- 
 cellency says truly that we must make con- 
 cessions now-a-days. We cannot afford to 
 play with our public in these hard times ; ' and 
 Josquin was surprised to see Lisa give in 
 and begin a recitative, followed by the duet, 
 which seemed, indeed, little worthy of the pure 
 and lofty manner in which she rendered it. 
 The Count sang with great finish of style
 
 LISA'S CARES ii 
 
 but imperceptible voice. Could he be, 
 thought Josquin, the owner of the carriage 
 that had come to fetch Lisa — the giver of all 
 the gifts that were returned ? And how was it 
 that the Capellmeister treated him with such 
 respect, and she with so little disdain ? He 
 had flung his head back while she sang in an 
 ecstasy of admiration, and after executing his 
 own part, exclaimed : ' Dear Maestro, it will 
 be a complete success, believe me ; Caffarelli 
 will be here to take the tenor ; ' and with- 
 out waiting to hear anything farther from the 
 demurring Lisa, he began to make some 
 alterations with a pencil at the harpsichord. 
 While he stooped over it Lisa came up to 
 Josquin. 
 
 * Well, what do you think ? * 
 
 ' I don't think that you will sing in it' 
 
 * Who is that fellow in the corner ? ' 
 whispered his Excellency to the Capell- 
 meister, by no means amiably. * Oh ! an
 
 12 ALCESTIS 
 
 old pupil of mine : was dismissed from my 
 choir three years ago, has since been tra- 
 velling with Von Lichtenberg as Kammer- 
 musikus/ 
 
 * To be sure, I remember seeing him once 
 at your house,' the other said. Then turning 
 to Lisa ; 
 
 ' Fraulein Vaara, I will not remain to press 
 on you any longer a work for which you seem 
 not to be in the mood. Once more I tell you 
 it is in your own interest I wish you to sing 
 it ; and perhaps when you are left alone you 
 may judge differently. I think I remember 
 to have seen in a different position the friend 
 who now appears to Influence you,' he added, 
 with an uncomfortable look at Josquln. 
 
 * No, your Excellency,' Lisa here broke 
 in, * I am not influenced by any friend. I 
 would not willingly refuse your request, for I 
 owe so much to your kindness.' 
 
 ' Lisa, how do I know the man's face ?
 
 LISA'S CARES 13 
 
 Who is this enraged coxcomb?' Josquin 
 said immediately he was gone. 
 
 Elisabetha was pale and agitated. * The 
 new Director of the opera/ she replied 
 impatiently. 
 
 * What ! Count von Plauen, Surintendant 
 de NOS plaisirs ? ' exclaimed Josquin. * Oh ! 
 what an ill-timed laugh ! my unlucky star has 
 risen.' 
 
 It must be remembered what an impor- 
 tant office the Intendant filled in Josquin's 
 days, when the Opera was the private pro-, 
 perty of an arbitrary Court, and he was the 
 representative of its taste. He was more 
 powerful than the Capellmeister himself 
 Once, indeed, the Sassone had had things all 
 his own way, but imperceptibly he had fallen 
 into the second place ; and now, after all the 
 spoiling, bitterness and mistrust were his 
 portion in old age, and he submitted, often 
 unconsciously. So the reader will understand
 
 14' ALCESTIS 
 
 the depression which overcame Lisa as she 
 -Spoke of her master's oppressor. 
 
 *My unkicky star has risen!' Josquin 
 had exclaimed. But in her old severe way 
 Lisa said : * Yes, we thrill at every word of 
 this man with fear or pleasure — we depend 
 on him for daily bread. Is this the freedom 
 of art which we used to talk about, Josquin ? ' 
 
 * Never mind, Lisa, so long as he ap- 
 preciates you ; you move the hand, dear 
 sister, which moves the opera which moves 
 the whole world ! But the astonishing thing 
 is that you, my dear, who are looked upon as 
 a puritan among artists, should have fasci- 
 nated such a fashionable gentleman.' 
 
 * Why do you say that ? ' she said ; * how 
 do you know ? ' 
 
 * Forgive me, Lisa, but he is in love ; and 
 you cannot deny that there was fire enough 
 in your four high C's to kindle a cold heart.' 
 He spoke naturally and gaily, but his words
 
 LISA'S CARES 15 
 
 had troubled her, and she said with a sort of 
 weary sadness : 
 
 'What can I do but sing my best when I 
 refuse to oblige him ? But oh ! it is wretched. 
 It seems to me, when I sing before him, as 
 though I were powerless for good, and were 
 giving voice to some evil spirit in the air. 
 Why don't we singers cultivate our art in our 
 garrets amongst ourselves, contented with 
 that rather than with success at such a 
 price ? * 
 
 * Because it is such a pleasure to the 
 unprosperous to see their talented friends 
 before the world. My words have depressed 
 you, Lisa, but I assure you I am only afraid 
 of myself, not of the influence of any Inten- 
 dants on my career. If only we stick to 
 music and love it, we can snap our fingers at 
 Nos plaisirs and their refined inspector.' 
 
 She did not quite understand his meaning," 
 but he rose up to go to the Capellmeister's,
 
 i6 ALCESTI3 
 
 saying he should be in another scrape, and 
 she only stretched out her hand in good-bye. 
 They had talked as if they had been boy and 
 girl ; they had spoken with all their old 
 instincts, and yet after he was gone and Lisa 
 sat on, wondering and anxious, she was more 
 oppressed than before ; strange cares of life 
 had overtaken her. Neither was Josquin's 
 heart as free as of old. 
 
 But when he went to Faustina the evil 
 forebodings were put out of his head, though 
 indeed the Intendant was not spared during 
 the visit. When Josquin entered the little 
 boudoir in which he had once found Lichten- 
 berg beside Faustina, she was sitting mourn- 
 fully alone without book or occupation. . In 
 a moment he perceived that she was changed, 
 older, sadder. But as soon as she saw him, 
 she held up her arms and hailed him with a 
 warmth and affection which took him by sur- 
 prise. Josquin was her Blondel, her trouba-
 
 'LISA'S CARES 17 
 
 dour, she had heard of his successes, he had 
 come back to gladden her in her troubles ; he 
 had left the odious Viennese for his old friends 
 — Hasse had need of all his pupils. Then 
 Faustina said she had received a letter from 
 Count Lichtenberg — she knew all, it was 
 noble! His Excellence had told her the 
 whole history of his coming away. The 
 Baron von Gasparein had returned, and the 
 flight of the violinist was the talk of the town. 
 The fantastic Count was the only person who 
 was not very much surprised by Josquin's 
 behaviour. He, indeed, did not blame him 
 for avoiding anything that might interfere 
 with his profession, but he regretted his loss, 
 and sent the young composer a message 
 through Faustina, to beg him not to lose his 
 time. 
 
 But here Hasse came in, and Faustina 
 put a finger on her lips. * We must keep it 
 all a secret in Dresden,' she whispered ; and 
 
 VOL. II. c
 
 i8 ALCESTIS 
 
 then she began to tell the young man of her 
 husband's grievances. ^ After the first siege/ 
 she said, * two kings sat in the opera on 
 the night of Frederick's entry to hear the 
 Capellmeister's music performed. After this 
 siege, — his salary was cut down ' ! She 
 talked of returning to Vienna, of leaving an 
 ungrateful town, but Josquin made her listen 
 to the messages he brought her from great 
 men ; and, after he had played to her, she 
 said she was thankful to love music still, and 
 he left her comforted.
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS. 
 
 The ' Medonte ' was rehearsed, but happily 
 for Elisabetha, the Count von Plauen was 
 immediately afterwards summoned away to 
 Warsaw, and then came the close of the 
 season ; and when the Court left Dresden the 
 theatre was closed, the vexed Capellmelster 
 sought the consolations of a milk-cure, and 
 there came to Lisa a reprieve from the fears 
 and anxieties which were the drawback to 
 her happy new life. All the world was 
 rushing off to the baths, or to the villas in 
 the neighbouring hills, but she was thankful 
 to remain at peace to enjoy the quiet of the 
 town. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 ALCESTIS 
 
 When the Court had departed the simple 
 Dresdeners, we must believe, breathed the 
 freer, for all that they worshipped it like the 
 sun in heaven when present. It was the Court 
 that shut them out from art and music and 
 left dull and barren the places of popular enter- 
 tainment not under its exclusive patronage. 
 Later, the great-hearted Weber gained the 
 noble victory for the cause of their national 
 opera ; but then, the people remained content 
 with what they could get, not dreaming that 
 the music of the aristocracy could be any more 
 within their reach than the Italian language 
 which went with it. But for all that, it was 
 much the same happy public whom we like 
 to see at this day fiddling and dancing, rising 
 at four on Sunday mornings to hear music 
 while drinking their early coffee, who sit in 
 smiling pleasances and garden squares where 
 — oh unknown luxury to British holiday 
 makers — the violins, flutes, and sweet bas-
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 21 
 
 soons mingle airs of Haydn and symphonies 
 of Mozart with songs of birds, and rustling 
 of summer leaves, while the sunshine plays 
 in statued avenues such as we see painted on 
 Meissen china cups and tea-pots. Let English 
 reformers consider this sight, and English 
 opera-goers feel ashamed in their two-guinea 
 stalls. When the German public began to 
 hear music in its tea-gardens it was not long 
 to be kept out of the opera. 
 
 One of these favourite summer rendezvous 
 was a terrace on the Elbe, a mile or two 
 from the bridge, where there was a small 
 open theatre, probably the original hall which 
 has been rebuilt under the name of the 
 Linckesches Bad. Here every evening there 
 was an attempt at a concert chiefly consisting 
 of unaccompanied chorus-singing to attract the 
 people to come and drink coffee on the terrace. 
 
 One hot evening in August Josquin and 
 Lisa accompanied by the decorous Regen-
 
 22 ALCESTIS 
 
 furth had found their way to this charming- 
 terrace and sat, like the rest of the world 
 about them, drinking coffee before small 
 tables. It was an hour after sunset, but the 
 sky and river were still aglow, small lamps 
 were lit under the trees and myriads of fire- 
 flies sported about. Here and there against 
 the trees a light in a glass box suggested a 
 Madonna or St. Joseph above it ; but these 
 little votive tapers represented no other devo- 
 tion than that of the German public to their 
 smoking, and were the generous sparks that 
 afforded light for all their pipes. Josquin, too, 
 was smoking, Regenfurth was knitting a stock- 
 ing ; Lisa, sitting on her straw chair as if it 
 were a tragedy throne, with her cloak thrown 
 off because of the heat, looked very happy. 
 Charles would have laughed and pretended 
 to be astonished had he seen his cousin at 
 the end of two months sitting thus contented 
 with the old simple existence. But yes,
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 23 
 
 Josquin was quite contented ; the good 
 impetus he had received in his music still 
 carried him on, and he was working hard 
 with the promise of the Capellmeister that 
 he should be first violin in the orchestra at 
 the beginning of the next season. Some- 
 times the image of Cecile came with disturb- 
 ing power, but in his present life there was 
 little to recall her. Cecile was not an abiding 
 influence, she was only irresistible when 
 present — while Lisa was wholly in sympathy 
 with his present life of work. 
 
 So, ever since the close of the Italian 
 Opera which had been followed by the depar- 
 ture even of the Capellmeister and his wife, 
 they had been left to themselves and led a 
 truly idyllic existence. All the morning 
 Josquin worked, and every day he had some- 
 thing new to bring Lisa to discuss with her. 
 At five o'clock, when the city burnt with the 
 hot sunshine, they would walk out towards
 
 24 ALCESTIS 
 
 the beautiful harvest circling the town, or sit 
 in'^a shade erected by Josquin on the house- 
 top, and let the^ broad summer steep their 
 spirits in calm happiness ; or sometimes, like 
 this evening, they would take boat for some 
 gardens or suburb on the Elbe* 
 
 There was one drawback to boating, 
 however ; Lisa would not allow Josquin to 
 row : this evening she had insisted upon 
 rowing herself with the boatman to save 
 his hands for the bow and violin. While 
 she vigorously pulled against the stream 
 with the reflection of the sky on her face, 
 he contemplated her with some of the 
 amazement of his boyhood, when he used 
 to look upon her as a creature out of German 
 fairy-land. When Regenfurth remonstrated, 
 she only laughed, and answered as they 
 landed : ' I do assure you that it is the best 
 thing in the world for the voice ; I am ready
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 25 
 
 at this moment to sing — if it were not for 
 the crowd ! ' 
 
 * To be sure,' said Josquin, 'just like the 
 Hexe Lorelei ! Now I know of what you 
 remind me : Hasse always said you were a 
 witch, Lisa.' 
 
 A chorus was being sung in the small 
 wooden theatre as they landed. Elisabetha 
 looked round delighted, and swayed her head 
 to the rhythm of the melodious part-singing ; 
 for the music of the little Elbe theatre was 
 full of character and faultlessly in tune. 
 There was a little quiet applause, and a hum 
 of talking, and then they began again. 
 
 * I wonder if any of these good people 
 have ever heard of you, Lisa? ' Josquin said. 
 ' I believe they are worthy of hearing you — 
 see how quietly they listen. It would be truly 
 delightful to see what effect some grand air 
 of Marcello or John Sebastian would have 
 upon them sung by you — '
 
 26 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' Sung by me ! What opportunity could 
 they have ? * 
 
 ' Why not out of doors here ? Lisa, you 
 have always said you would like to be a bird 
 and sing without more ado, here is an oppor- 
 tunity ! ' 
 
 ' But I can't get up into a tree and sing 
 down from there — ' 
 
 ' No, but you can come into the theatre. 
 It zs a good inspiration ! Just now you said 
 you felt fresh enough. — Come, my Hexe, 
 and bewitch them all . . . ; but,' he said, 
 tenderly, * after your exercise, it might hurt 
 you/ 
 
 * Oh, I do not fear that. But Josquin, it 
 is mad ; how am I to stand up and sing ? ' 
 
 ' If that is all, I can manage it. You will 
 consent, will you not ? ' he persisted. * In a 
 minute I shall be back,' and this he said as 
 he jumped up and disappeared behind the 
 wooden erection of the theatre. In a few
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 27 
 
 minutes the conductor of the chorus came 
 forward, smiling and bowing profoundly. 
 He and all his company felt themselves 
 greatly honoured by the presence of the 
 Fraulein Vaara. Her great talent was 
 known to them, but their public had not had 
 the happiness of hearing her. The gentleman 
 had made a suggestion which gave him great 
 delight. *Ah, Fraulein ! ' the old man suddenly 
 exclaimed, winding up his little speech, * for 
 years I have worked on here trying to make 
 my music appreciated. You are the first 
 listener of distinction who has recognised my 
 efforts. If this day you will sing in my 
 theatre, I shall feel that all my efforts are 
 rewarded. I have conducted here for ten 
 years. I can answer for the good behaviour 
 of the audience.' 
 
 The old conductors simplicity won 
 Elisabethas heart. There was the warm 
 air, the deep twilight under the trees, the
 
 28 ALCESTIS 
 
 great glow beyond of sky and river, the con- 
 fused murmur of voices — the whole scene 
 was unprosalc, and made the effort less difficult 
 to Lisa. Suddenly, all the talk of the people 
 was hushed, for she had entered the little 
 theatre with her conductor. She had pulled 
 a loose hood over her head, and wrapped her 
 long black silk cloak about her, and her 
 white face and neck could just be discerned 
 against all the shadow, as she stood up to 
 sing without accompaniment or help of any 
 sort. The conductor made a little speech to 
 the crowd, and there was a low murmur of 
 surprise, then Lisa's voice took flight. 
 She had chosen a wild German ballad. 
 The first notes were like the ecstatic spring 
 of a lark, and the singer seemed to luxuri- 
 ate in the prolonged security of the high 
 clear notes. Breathless and enchanted did 
 all listen. Then she burst into a romantic 
 melody full of the poetry of the North.
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 29 
 
 Showers of wild notes filled the air, more and 
 more exulting and joyous, till the singer 
 returned to the triumphant summits of her 
 mighty soprano. 
 
 The people scarcely knew how to show 
 their delight. After a moment's pause there 
 was a sudden outburst of applause, and all 
 rose and called for the singer again and again ; 
 but she had disappeared ; Josquin had made 
 her put her hand in his arm, and they 
 escaped at the back and round the garden, to 
 the place where their boat was moored. 
 They were unobserved, but where was Regen- 
 furth ? Josquin had seen her give one gasp 
 of horror as Lisa disappeared into the theatre, 
 and he did not know whether she had re- 
 mained in her seat. Leaving Lisa for one 
 moment, he ran back for the old lady. He 
 found her still seated before the little table, 
 but not alone. A gaunt figure in a clerical 
 dress stood beside her. They were talking.
 
 30 ALCESTIS 
 
 and as Josquin came up behind her, he re- 
 cognised the nasal voice of Paradles. The 
 priest turned round and showed him an 
 attenuated face, greyer and thinner than of old. 
 
 There was no time, however, for explana- 
 tions. Josquin could only take hold of 
 Paradles' arm, and drag him with Regenfurth 
 into the boat. A crowd had gathered at the 
 terrace when they found which way the singer 
 had gone, but the little party pushed off and 
 disappeared, leaving them under the impres- 
 sion, Josquin said, that a witch or a bird had 
 sung to them that night. 
 
 As soon as they were safe off, floating 
 down the stream under the stars, the friends 
 began to question Paradles, and they dis- 
 covered with difficulty that the poor secretary 
 had found no occupation since leaving Count 
 Lichtenberg's service. He had turned poet, 
 and this lean profession accounted for his 
 starved appearance and threadbare garments.
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 31 
 
 He had been In Dresden all this while, 
 watching Lisa from afar ; but the last time 
 she had seen him she had lent him money 
 and he had been unable to return it ; 
 only shame had kept him away. They 
 reproached him with his mistrust, and sug- 
 gested means for securing him a livelihood, 
 but Paradies scorned any such help. All 
 great poets had starved, he said. After his 
 death, his manuscripts might pay his debts. 
 He confessed, however, that at that moment 
 he had a libretto in his pocket, which he 
 would like to show Josquin. M. Dorioz 
 might accept it, and then, if he composed 
 music for it, and it were accepted by the 
 opera, their fortunes would be made. It 
 would not be the first time that they had 
 shared success. 
 
 The friends took Paradies home, and 
 directly after their meal he pulled out his 
 papers. Josquin fumed with impatience, but
 
 32 ALCESTIS 
 
 Lisa was deeply Interested. * It will take me 
 a couple of hours to read/ Paradies said. * It 
 is the tragedy of Alcestis. Do you remember, 
 Dorioz, our reading of Greek plays, and our 
 discoveries about Fraulein Vaara ? She has 
 been my Alcestis ever since. You must 
 compose music for me.' 
 
 * Anything/ said Josquin, ' if you will 
 spare me a reading aloud. What do you 
 think, Lisa, the Count von Plauen would say to 
 Paradies' libretto ? I think it must be much 
 too romantic a transcription for the Intendant's 
 classical taste.' 
 
 * Those good folks of the terrace concerts 
 would soon make us independent of our 
 Intendant, if they came to the opera,' said 
 Lisa. ' I have been thinking about it all the 
 way home.' 
 
 Paradies was preparing to go home when 
 he found that they would not let him read his 
 tragedy ; but he turned back to say : ' Dear
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 33 
 
 friend, let me tell you that I was grieved to 
 hear you sing In that Independent way. You 
 risked much by thus condescending.' 
 
 * Condescending ! ' said Lisa. * Why should 
 we artists never sing to the class to which 
 we belong, but abandon It to serve princes 
 and duchesses ? ' 
 
 ' Go to, Paradles, my first audience was In 
 a washerwoman's parlour. But your music 
 will help mine to reach a more distinguished 
 public ! ' 
 
 And thus snubbed, the author left them ; 
 and Josquin and Elisabetha discussed for a 
 long time the new public that they had dis- 
 covered that evening on the Elbe terrace. 
 
 Now this little incident of Lisa's song in 
 the open-air theatre had great results ; for an 
 idea was started in Josquln's mind of giving 
 concerts for the town, and he worked hard, 
 and that very autumn had advertised per- 
 formances for every Sunday afternoon. He 
 
 VOL. II. D
 
 34 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 had a list of bourgeois patrons ; a hall. Smok- 
 ing was allowed. Entrance, two groschen. 
 
 Hasse only Interfered to prevent Lisa 
 herself from performing. The young Court- 
 singer could not be allowed to sing for the 
 benefit of the towns-folk. Yet it was Lisa 
 who had Inspired the idea, and without her 
 interest Josquin might not have overcome 
 all the difficulties which came In his way. 
 But the first concert proved attractive. 
 The second was still better attended, and 
 at last the success of the venture was 
 ensured. 
 
 Thus Josquln^s summer leisure was well 
 employed. Sunday after Sunday he stood 
 up to play In the badly-lighted hall, ringed 
 by a crowd which, descried through an atmo- 
 sphere of tobacco smoke, looked (we must 
 admit) as undistinguished an assemblage as 
 any country of Europe could present. But 
 this dingy crowd had music In It; at once
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 35 
 
 there seemed to spring up an understanding 
 between the young vioHnist and his audience. 
 Whatever the unsuccessful artist will urge to 
 the contrary, the presence of genius will 
 always make itself felt, though much that is 
 good, only falling short of the best, may be 
 thrown away upon the ignorant. But there 
 was genius here, in this young performer 
 whose very presence seemed to challenge 
 dullness and apathy ; and there was good 
 humour among the listeners, and contentment 
 with their money's worth to begin with. Then 
 the satisfaction increased to enthusiasm, and 
 soon it became a sort of devotion that Jos- 
 quin inspired amongst his homely hearers. 
 Each new attempt to raise their taste was 
 crowned with success ; and they listened with 
 love to Bach, Handel, Haydn, and all the 
 brilliant violin composers of that classical 
 century, as the .young player brought forth 
 out of his treasures things new and old. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 ALCESTIS 
 
 When the Capellmeister returned to 
 Dresden to find Dorioz thus making his 
 way to popular fame, he did not quite know 
 what attitude It would behove him to take up 
 towards his concerts, but the large mind 
 of the Capellmelsterin grasping Immediately 
 the poetry and Interest of the situation, was 
 brought to bear upon her husband, and he 
 came, and was delighted to find his own 
 music flatteringly received by this new 
 audience, and from henceforth gave Josquin's 
 popular concerts his blessing. Faustina, too, 
 came, and was enchanted, and came again ; 
 and this was the signal for many others to 
 follow, excited by her fiLvore for the young 
 violinist's playing, so that as the autumn 
 advanced, Josquin counted a polite element 
 in his audience, which increased each 
 ime. 
 
 As for Lisa, the true originator of these 
 concerts, she came without fail with Regen-
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 37 
 
 furth. It was to her like going to church 
 with the poor to come and Hsten to Josquin s 
 violin with this new public, which she envied 
 him : it was her delight while she drank in 
 the singing tones of his playing to watch 
 the musical eyes of some gentle face in the 
 crowd light up, some otherwise commonplace 
 countenance soften, to see the wonder and 
 pleasure as all bent on the player looks of 
 admiration. Then she too would look up at 
 him, give herself up to the pleasure of watch- 
 ing his face, his hands 
 
 Dear hands she knew so well, 
 That sight of them was like to touch of them. . . . 
 
 and a yearning would come over her, and 
 she would look no longer, finding that a 
 strange trouble arose to disturb her happi 
 ness, and she would feel, in spite of her- 
 self, that the pain of longing was the worse 
 for struggling against it; and on such 
 evenings she would become suddenly shy,
 
 38 ALCESTIS 
 
 and beg Josquin not to accompany her home 
 as usual, but find his supper with other 
 friends. 
 
 The summer had thus passed tranquilly, 
 bringing a new sensation to each of our 
 friends : to Lisa — that of a little happiness, 
 to Josquin — peaceful contentment and con- 
 centration on his work. Even Lisa, who was 
 usually prone to sad forebodings, looked 
 forward to a winter as happy and as profit- 
 able, and Josquin never felt more secure 
 against the longings and distraction that had 
 so often been his bane ; he had been com- 
 posing much, and was writing his first opera, 
 inspired by Paradies' libretto. He thought 
 that he had at last attained some of the 
 steadfast purpose for which he had always 
 envied Lisa, and that it would surely make 
 him achieve some good work. But Josquin 's 
 work like his life could be ruled by no other
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 39 
 
 force but impulse — a poor instinct will you 
 call impulse ? a strain of ancestors' blood in 
 our veins, carrying us whither we would 
 not ? — nay, something dearer to the higher 
 powers is impulse. Impulse is new birth : 
 and what greater revelation have we received 
 than that we must be born again ? Life to 
 each man as he travels through it, brings 
 new ears, new eyes, a new heart : to be born 
 again is to fulfil his nature. So in Josquin, 
 there were depths which had not yet been 
 stirred ; he thought himself working securely, 
 but that very work under his hands was to 
 get new power from his new feeling. Life 
 and its simple experience brought the soul 
 into Josquin, and everything that now hap- 
 pened led to this teaching of pain. 
 
 . One Sunday evening at the end of 
 November, when Dresden was beginning to 
 be full after the return of the fashionable 
 world, and the following^ concert was an-
 
 40 ALCESTIS 
 
 nounced to be the last, the young educator 
 of the popular taste had attempted a higher 
 flight than usual, and had included in his 
 programme a concerto of John Sebastian 
 Bach's. Probably, these violin concertos had 
 hardly ever been performed before in Dresden, 
 so tremendous did the technical difficulties 
 appear to almost every player of those 
 juvenile days of art. There was, therefore, 
 a large mixture among the listeners ; not a 
 few of the class for whom reserved seats 
 were invented, and a sprinkling of artists in 
 one corner of the hall. Josquin was standing 
 up circled by the accompanying instruments, 
 half a dozen violoncellos and double basses. 
 Lisa was listening in her place near the 
 green-room door and admiring the players 
 frank rendering of the concerto, its giant 
 power and swaying motion, when she was 
 surprised to see his cheek flush, his hand 
 seem to lose power — the player altogether
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 41 
 
 disturbed. What had Josquin suddenly seen 
 to upset him thus ? 
 
 Lisa could not from her place see the 
 corner of the hall where sat the Capell- 
 meisterin and the more distinguished part of 
 the audience. But there, between Faustina 
 and an elderly gentleman, who attentively 
 listened to the music, she might have observed 
 a young lady of irresistible beauty and grace, 
 wrapped in a large cloak of black marabout 
 feathers, caressing the sticks of her fan, while 
 her cheeks and eyes betrayed an emotion 
 that her attitude seemed to wish to conceal. 
 Lisa was hidden from the sight of her ; nor 
 would she have observed her much, perhaps, 
 nor traced any analogy between the emotion 
 of the player and that of this lovely lady ; for 
 Lisa knew nothing about Cecile, and Josquin s 
 passion for her. But it was nothing else 
 than her presence, suddenly flashing upon 
 him, that had paralysed him for a moment.
 
 42 "ALCESTIS 
 
 Unexpectedly beholding her, when all his 
 energies were centred in his concerto, he had 
 no time to call to his aid the many fortifying 
 reflections he had been preparing for the 
 occasion for many months — that she was en- 
 gaged to be married, that she never could be 
 anything to him, that their paths lay in oppo- 
 site directions ; all such cautious reminders 
 forsook him, and he was all unnerved. But 
 the double basses accompaniment of the 
 concerto swung on uninterruptedly, and he 
 soon recovered himself. As soon as he 
 could, he went into the hall to speak to his 
 late patron, but they had vanished. Only 
 Faustina, calling him to her, said trium- 
 phantly : 'Well, Josquin, you see you are 
 not in his Excellency's bad books after all ! 
 He has only been two days in Dresden, and 
 he comes to hear you and see this sight,' 
 pointing to the populace in the hall. ' He 
 was delighted ! The little one dotes on your
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 43 
 
 playing! They say they will come back 
 next time ! ' all this in a crescendo of 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 What? they had come back to stay at 
 Dresden, and Count Lichtenberg came to 
 hear him as if nothing had happened to offend 
 him ! and Cecile seemed free, was it all a 
 mistake that she was engaged to be married ? 
 Rumours had alarmed him, but .Faustina 
 would have been told had there been question 
 of a marriage. And there would Cecile be, 
 not three miles off, through the winter ; and 
 Josquin might sometimes see her. With 
 what delight did all this pass through his 
 mind at Faustina's words. But when he was 
 back, and alone, at the Klosterhaus, in vain he 
 tried to persuade himself that his delight was 
 the most natural thing in the world ; he could 
 not but feel the folly of indulging it. He re- 
 solved that at all events he would not seek 
 the family at the villa in any way ; and if fate
 
 4X ALCESTIS 
 
 were not against It, there was no reason why 
 his industrious life should be disturbed. 
 Still, the thought of seeing Cecile again the 
 next Sunday, if the Count kept his promise 
 of returning, filled his thoughts during the 
 following days. 
 
 The days seemed long to Josquin, but 
 Lisa did not notice his pre-occupation, and 
 she forgot all about his sudden emotion In 
 the midst of his concerto the previous Sunday 
 evening. She attributed Josquin's care in 
 selecting his programme for the last concert 
 to his wish to end the series well ; but he 
 himself was almost ashamed of his anxious 
 choice. He selected for his solo a beautiful 
 romance of Galuppi, which had been a great 
 favourite in Vienna. When the evening 
 came, he was dressed with the greatest care. 
 The last autumn rose from the Klosterhaus 
 garden stuck Into his frill, was the only bit of 
 colour In his costume ; for his coat and waist-
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 45. 
 
 coat were dark, and with eyes brilliant with 
 his inward excitement (after so many months 
 of quiet, was it not natural that small things 
 should cause great excitement ?) the player 
 truly was charming. The quartett beginning 
 the concert was over, and had received its 
 applause ; but still none of the Lichtenberg 
 party had arrived. It was time for the ro- 
 mance, but Josquin delayed. The clavier was 
 opened, and the accompanyist waiting ; the 
 people began clapping, Josquin begged him 
 to go upon the platform before him — a few 
 minutes more (he thought) and Ceclle might 
 arrive, and for her the romance had been 
 selected, and he could not begin without her. 
 The people began clapping again in im- 
 patience. * Just take the music and open it 
 on the desk,' and a minute or two more 
 passed. Lisa sitting in her usual corner, 
 between the platform and the musician's 
 small private room, could not understand
 
 46 ALCESTIS 
 
 it. How unlike this was to the unpretending 
 Josquin ! * Will you not go ? ' she said to 
 him ; * it is so embarrassing — the people are 
 waiting.' * In a moment/ he said. ' I don't 
 like the position of the music-stand.' 
 
 ' But you play by heart, Josquin,' said 
 Lisa. Still he waited, but no Cecile appeared. 
 Suddenly Josquin dashed up to the platform, 
 and was greeted with the usual applause. 
 His friend looked after him with a pain at 
 her heart. She could not explain to herself 
 this fussiness, so little belonging to his 
 nature ; she felt that there was a danger : a 
 little of the glory had departed that haloed 
 her Josquin. Meanwhile, she could not see 
 all the audience, only the figure of the player. 
 He looked round with a look of weariness on 
 his audience, then began the lovely romance 
 in a business-like manner, which did not 
 please Lisa. She heard a sound of rustling 
 in the hall, and suddenly Josquin grew quite
 
 POPULAR CONCERTS 47 
 
 pale ; then he played on, seeming to recover 
 his composure, and the performance was as 
 good as ever. But when he came back to Lisa, 
 he was trembling with excitement. His eyes 
 shone, and he was absent. He had not 
 thought it possible that C^cile's presence 
 should have such an effect upon him. 
 
 Enthusiastic applause now recalled him 
 to the platform, and at the close of the concert 
 again burst forth, and his name was repeatedly 
 called. In the excitement Lisa forgot her 
 annoyance of a few minutes before. She did 
 not think it unnatural that Josquin should 
 hasten forward to greet the Count, his late 
 master, and his lovely niece, before they left 
 the hall, nor did she observe that any further 
 change had passed over him. Josquin had 
 recovered his composure. He returned to 
 the Klosterhaus engaged to go to the Villa 
 on the following day, to play quartetts with 
 the Count, and he went on his way as usual.
 
 48 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN. 
 
 But two months passed away, and Elisabetha 
 knew that a change had come over her 
 summer life. She could not have given an 
 account of the change, but she had gradually- 
 felt a distance growing between herself and 
 her only friend ; when had she felt the change 
 that had troubled her happy life with Josquin, 
 how did she know of it, while outwardly their 
 life went on as before ? So she went over 
 the sad heart-searchings. Their work and 
 interests she told herself were the same, and 
 she of the two was the most drawn away by 
 her profession ; it was not strange that 
 Josquin should have far more friends than
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 49 
 
 herself, more engagements as the season 
 commenced ; that he should be made much of 
 in places of which she knew nothing. She 
 had been prepared for this, but it was not 
 in absences, but in his presence that she most 
 felt that their intercourse was not what it had 
 been. 
 
 Who shall say what becomes of friendship 
 when one of two is in love with a third ? 
 who has seen it survive in that rare and 
 subtle thing, friendship between man and 
 woman ? It had been an ardent sympathy 
 that Lisa inspired in Josquin since he came 
 back to find her grown to great power, and 
 yet simple — a woman unlike all others ; a 
 little more, and his feeling had been enough 
 for all the demands of daily life ; but while 
 admiration almost kindled the spark of love ; 
 there on a sudden was the real fire burning 
 in his breast. C^cile had come back, Cecile 
 with all her old power ; Cecile alone made his 
 
 VOL. II. E
 
 50 ALCESTIS 
 
 pulses beat when she came into the room ; 
 Cecile seemed to him harmony, inspiration ; 
 with her alone could he feel the passionate 
 tenderness which would excite him till he 
 reached that determination which is power. 
 And so it was little wonder that Lisa felt 
 lonely, for it had been the history of her stay 
 in Vienna over again with Josquin. 
 
 His enthusiastic patron, after discovering 
 the history of his birth as we have seen, had 
 magnanimously forgiven him for leaving his 
 service ; but though the peaceful Count kept 
 his sympathies as much as possibly secret, 
 the Gosparein family did not fail to be 
 offended at his receiving so lightly the idea of 
 having encouraged their scapegrace nephew in 
 his wilful courses. ' That Ludovic, he is in- 
 fatuated,' said his son s kinswoman, Charles's 
 mother. ' It is a blessing that my poor niece 
 has enough of her mother s sound good sense 
 and distinguished taste to be able to withstand
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 51 
 
 her uncle's theatrical folHes ! ' and when the 
 Count continued to praise Josquin for his 
 talents and good conduct, and Charles per- 
 sisted in talking about reclaiming him, the 
 family found some comfort in Cecile's scorn- 
 ful indifference and silence about the young 
 musician who seemed to have turned the 
 heads of all his patrons. 
 
 And not even Charles, who knew her the 
 best, could have thought that Cecile was not 
 wholly indifferent to his cousin : when her 
 uncle related to her the history of his child- 
 hood she said nothing, .betrayed no interest ; 
 when later he spoke of wintering at the Villa 
 nothing in her manner could have made him 
 suspect that she was deeply, intensely 
 attracted by the plan. And yet, if it was 
 carried out, if they were now once more in 
 Dresden, if Josquin found himself once more 
 fascinated by the society at the Villa, it was 
 no other influence than that of Cecile von 
 
 E 2 
 
 UMIVIKSITY OF \tum^
 
 52 ALCESTIS 
 
 Lichtenberg. She it was who drew him on 
 now imperceptibly to more and more devotion. 
 The last described concert ended the 
 course brilliantly, and immediately the Count 
 claimed to have a share in the young man s 
 time, inviting him by day to come and look 
 over with him those dully elegant compositions 
 about which he was more sanguine than 
 ever; in the evenings to all reunions and 
 suppers, to play and make music for his 
 guests as of old. He did not betray any 
 knowledge of his history — acting partly from 
 selfishness, for he was afraid to lose the 
 musician whom he could not replace. Josquin 
 was glad that they treated him as before, but 
 yet he felt that it was not all the same — 
 what a blessed difference it made with Cecile, 
 that she should know his history ! More 
 delightful than ever was his intercourse with 
 her and her world. Nothing was said ; but 
 often Josquin longed to ask her how much
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 53 
 
 she knew since she was so kind ? to beg her 
 to dictate to him what he should do — to tell 
 her of his old struggles — of the struggles 
 that still would come up . . . Was it any 
 wonder that he still compared his life with 
 Cecile and his life of work ? Of all this, how 
 could he speak to Lisa ? 
 
 Lisa never asked him any questions, but 
 he did not let her be ignorant — that it was 
 the Villa that most attracted him away from 
 the Klosterhaus. If he had told her further, 
 unburdened himself and let her know that he 
 passionately loved the young lady of the 
 house, that he could not bear any life that 
 separated him from her — what would she 
 have thought or wished for him ? It had 
 always been a comfort to Josquin that Lisa 
 accepted him entirely as a fellow-artist ; that, 
 knowing of his birth and history, she yet had 
 always taken as a matter of course that he 
 would keep to the path he had chosen for
 
 54 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 himself, and this had been a source of strength 
 to Josquin in good purposes during the past 
 year. Now he shrank from letting her know 
 anything of the struggle, as it arose again in 
 him. Vaguely he feared to lose that familiar 
 intercourse which he felt fostered his best 
 life — the long musical mornings, the meetings 
 after the opera. He would come away from 
 the Villa to hear her sing from his place in 
 the orchestra, and long for the old comfort 
 and repose of their evening talk ; but slowly 
 he too began to feel the penalty that he must 
 pay for his secret intoxication. If she found 
 him pre-occupied and languid, where before 
 he had been eager and absorbed ; if there 
 was a certain impatience in his manner, 
 where before he had been simple and calm, 
 in her too he felt a change. She was ex- 
 cited and eager to fatigue, or sombre and 
 silent, concentrated on her work. Each 
 trusted that the other did not perceive its
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN SS 
 
 own trouble, each strove to let the change be 
 unfelt by the other ; but soon the natural 
 result followed, and while working side by 
 side, they drew farther apart. 
 
 One day an invitation came for Lisa 
 with a courteous note from the Count, 
 Inviting her to sing at a private concert at 
 the Villa. Her first instinct was to refuse. 
 Though Lisa had never questioned him^ 
 she had not been without intense curiosity 
 about the grudged villa and its people ; but 
 she shrank from indulging it now, for it made 
 her feel that she did not trust Josquin, that 
 she had need to spy out what he did not con- 
 fide in her. But while she held the letter yet 
 before her, Josquin himself had come in dressed 
 — she saw in a moment, to go to the Villa. 
 He entreated her not to refuse. He had so 
 long wished her to know his kind patron and 
 to see the beautiful house. It would be at 
 its gayest for the Prince Valentin, a great
 
 S6 ALCESTIS 
 
 amateur of music who was staying there, and 
 this was one of the entertainments given in 
 his honour. The H asses were going, they 
 would all go in a party. He entreated her 
 not to refuse. 
 
 And then Lisa had relented. * But 
 Josquin, what do you think the Count will 
 want me to sing ? I should like one of my 
 pieces to be something of yours ; that last one 
 you wrote for me, you know — you promised 
 to alter the end,' and she brought him an 
 unfinished MS. piece. ^ Can you try it now ? * 
 
 * I am afraid I am due already at the 
 Villa, but I will find time to do it for you. I 
 am overwhelmed with work. The Count 
 wishes me to put to music the Comus of Mil- 
 ton, which he wants to have acted during the 
 Prince's stay. I have got it all in my head, 
 but It is hard work even to score It In ten 
 days. It is to be performed the night before 
 your concert. Alas ! I fear strictly an
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 57 
 
 amateur performance, but it will be good for 
 all to hear you the following night/ 
 
 This had been a fortnight before ; since 
 that Lisa had only received a hurried note 
 from him to say that he had been kept at the 
 Villa ; that they wanted him to stay till the 
 performance was over. He would only have 
 time to get to the opera at night to play (the 
 Count's carriage was to take him in), and not 
 return to the Klosterhaus at all. The week 
 that she had just been going through had 
 then been a week of gloom to Lisa — all the 
 while she thought in her grieved heart that it 
 was for his art's sake that she vexed herself 
 at his disappearance. 
 
 The people used to come and ask for 
 Josquin at his door, Regenfurth would report 
 of their dismay at finding the musician 
 away ; messages were coming and going ; 
 pupils furious. Lisa, regularly occupied as 
 she was, yet felt in despair ; she went about
 
 58 ALCESTIS 
 
 her work with an aching heaviness at her 
 heart. What did it mean, this absence of 
 Josquin ? What was he to the Villa now, 
 that they should have such claims upon him ? 
 and that he should weakly let them interfere 
 with all his work ? 
 
 As the evening approached, Lisa's courage 
 for going on her lonely expedition to the gay 
 Villa failed her. Her great longing to 
 discover more of Josquin's hidden life had 
 overcome everything ; she had said to herself, 
 when her pride rose up against her eagerness, 
 that if she could expect nothing more of him 
 was not Josquin after all her brother in art ; 
 and if it was going all wrong with him while 
 he left his work to compose operettes for 
 amateurs, ought she to shrink from going 
 where he was, where she might perhaps say 
 a word in season — recall him to his true life ? 
 But as she sat at her weary toilet preparing 
 to go and meet him at the Villa, the wounded
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 59 
 
 sense of not being trusted made her (Lisa 
 usually simple and fearless as a little boy) 
 shrink from going where her womanly 
 instinct told her she was not looked for with 
 pleasure by her friend. 
 
 And Lisa was not one of those for whom 
 dressing is a joy. As she stood up now in 
 her solitude, and raised her arm to fasten up 
 the hair which she wore unpowdered and 
 unconfined in the morning, she looked as 
 if she had stepped out of a noble Michael 
 Angelo world, too unconventional for the 
 society for which she must prepare. When 
 dressed, she looked less well, for the fashion 
 of the time, with its hundred graceful conceits, 
 did not suit her massive figure. Not like 
 another lady who was seated meanwhile at 
 her toilet preparing for the same society, 
 heaping on the subtleties of a tumbled rose 
 and careless ribbon, * bugle, bracelet, necklace, 
 amber ; ' from which little scented paradise of
 
 6o ALCESTIS 
 
 elegance she will presently shine forth to 
 make the hearts of men rejoice and of women 
 tremble. This was at the Villa, where 
 Josquin had been staying the past week, and 
 where all was festivity in honour of the 
 arrival of the Prince, whose stay was inter- 
 rupted once before by the siege. There was 
 an unusual solemnity about the reception of 
 the guest ; there were faint rumours of a 
 match contemplated between him and 
 Fraulein von Lichtenberg. Josquin had 
 often heard such, but it was now C^cile s own 
 manner which made him anxious and miser- 
 able. When the Count had asked him to 
 stay, he had told Cecile that it would be 
 better for him to remain at work in the town ; 
 but she surprised him by her emotion. Her 
 face was quite pale as she looked up at him 
 imploringly : 
 
 ' Will you stay away ? you do not know 
 all that I have to go through this week — all
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 6i 
 
 the Stiffness will be unendurable without you 
 — and your music' 
 
 ' What is there I would not do for you/ 
 he said ; * what greater happiness can I have 
 than to be asked to remain by you ? ' 
 
 *Yes, for this week,' she answered 
 hurriedly, as if afraid of having said too much. 
 * I have so many to think of — such a part to 
 play ; ' and then in a low voice she added, * it 
 is such a luxury to have somebody near with 
 whom one may be oneself.' 
 
 Cecile would say these things with a far- 
 off look, half sad, half hard, which made her 
 face irresistible. She would madden Josquin 
 with impatience, for at one moment she 
 would seem to give herself to him, the next 
 she would make him feel that he had ventured 
 too far. 
 
 * One week, and then starvation ! Tell me 
 to stay for ever, or else to remain away,' he 
 burst forth.
 
 62 ALCESJIS 
 
 * Josquin, you do not know what you are 
 talking about. I am not your life ; your 
 work, you have told me, is your life ; your 
 whole calling is between us — you must be a 
 great man/ 
 
 But she had never called him by his 
 Christian name before. ' Cecile ! C6cile ! * he 
 exclaimed, ' I am ready to give up everything 
 for you, but why should such good things as 
 work and music part us ? I believe that 
 you give me sometimes your best self, why 
 do you give me so little of it ? * 
 
 * Be grateful and content ! ' she laughed 
 scornfully. * You do not know how small a 
 proportion is that good in me to the bad. I 
 do not want you to think me good. All will 
 be over on the day that you ask me to give 
 you more than I do now.' 
 
 She was once more the imperious Cecile, 
 before whom Josquin was less weak — before 
 the gentle one he had no courage. ' I will
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 63 
 
 Stay, madam/ he answered, ' to make music 
 for you, and for your guests.' 
 
 But during Josquin's visit, when Cecile 
 let him look into her sweet eyes, he could 
 feel only a defiant happiness. If the Prince 
 indeed aspired to her hand, his nature must 
 needs have been phlegmatic ; for she had not 
 a blush or a smile for him. Josquin over and 
 over again thought of writing to Charles to 
 come and help him. Lisa might well be 
 heavy hearted. It was the last night of his 
 stay, the opera had been performed in the 
 private theatre on the preceding evening, but 
 he had not found one moment wherein to 
 come for her to bring her to the Villa. The 
 Capellmeister however called, and they 
 gloomily drove out together. ' Why was 
 Josquin dangling on at the Count's ? ' Hasse 
 said ; ' What was the use of his being fine 
 gentleman one day, composer and artist the 
 next ? ' ' Could Lisa tell him how the opera
 
 64 ALCESTIS 
 
 was getting on ? ' Lisa used to answer for 
 Josquin, but now she was all in the dark 
 about him : her heart was full, this night she 
 trusted to bring him back, make him tell her 
 all. 
 
 At last they reached the Villa, and were 
 graciously received by the Count at the door 
 of the beautiful music-room ; the listeners 
 seated there had access to the galleries of 
 the house ; so that there was a coming and 
 going between the pieces that took away 
 all stiffness from the concert. The Vaara's 
 song, however, was anxiously waited for ; 
 and a silence greeted her entrance, as 
 the Count conducted her to the harpsichord. 
 It was Hasse who sat down to accompany 
 her, and wearily Lisa's eyes sought Josquin. 
 Was it not he who had made her come 
 there ? Was it not he himself who had 
 wished to bring her ? and now he was not 
 even there to receive her. Soon she knew
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 65 
 
 that he was not In the room. Happily for 
 Lisa, her art was a pure region with which 
 she Httle allowed her own troubles to Inter- 
 fere. Now her habitual conscientiousness 
 came to her aid, and with a burning heart she 
 sang so that those who knew her style could 
 only have found a little coldness to reproach 
 her with, while all praised her large and 
 poetical expression. She was encored, and 
 giving In to the Count's Instructions, accom- 
 panied herself In one of her northern ballads ; 
 and then the Capellmelster had moved away, 
 and she sat alone, while a celebrated tenor 
 took his turn for performing. 
 
 * Ah ! I have reached you at last, Frau- 
 lein ! ' said a well-known lisping voice beside 
 her. ' I was in the Japanese boudoir, driven 
 away by sheer fatigue from the music, when 
 your divine tones reached me. I assure you, 
 you are the one being who shows me that I 
 still care for music ; all the rest make me feel 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 66 ALCESTIS 
 
 that either I or the world is gone mad, out of 
 tune. You inspire, harmonise me.' 
 
 It was Count von Plauen. He had been 
 called to the music-room by her voice. Was it 
 then that Josquin had not been at the Villa at 
 all that he was so far out of its reach ? How 
 wearily did poor Lisa now force herself to listen 
 to the Hof Intendant's ^ndX^sspropos about his 
 adventures, his new musical ideas, his relaxed 
 throat ! This man had no more nature or spon- 
 taneity under his palpitating flowered waist- 
 coat, than his music had reality under its 
 artificial pretension. If he had but a very 
 little sympathy or understanding, poor Lisa, 
 in her loneliness, would almost have been 
 grateful for his praise. It was only because 
 she could endure no longer to sit still whilst 
 longing to satisfy herself that Josquin was 
 really not at the Villa, that she accepted the 
 Intendant's offer of his arm to conduct her 
 through the rooms. He led her out of the
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 67 
 
 pretty vaulted music-hall into the gallery ; 
 but amongst the gay crowds of people there, 
 admiring the Count's Italian collections, she 
 could not see Josquin. Her eyes sought him 
 everywhere among the statues, which he 
 himself had so often described to her. 
 
 At that moment the Count came up with 
 a magnificent young man, smiling and curled, 
 with arching eyebrows and white teeth, to 
 whom he presented von Plauen. Then 
 turning to Lisa graciously, he said : ' Fraulein, 
 I am glad to see you well taken care of I 
 was just going to show his Highness some 
 Japanese curiosities with which I have had 
 my niece's boudoir fitted. Count von Plauen, 
 will you lead the Fraulein, and follow us ? ' 
 and his Excellency led the way to C^cile's 
 apartments, where he had already sent some 
 people in to look at the Japanese treasures. 
 And then Lisa entering, beheld Josquin ! He 
 was dressed in a pink silk coat ; by his side 
 
 F 2
 
 68 ALCESJIS 
 
 was Fraulein von Lichtenberg. Ah ! what 
 was the strange brilHancy in his eyes, the 
 flush on his cheek ? She, too, looked ex- 
 cited. They seemed Httle pleased at having 
 their retreat invaded. 
 
 A few hours ago Lisa had assured herself 
 that it was because she feared for her friend's 
 work — for his career — that she wanted to meet 
 him, and bring him back from the Villa. 
 Face to face with him at that moment, was it 
 for his music she cared, was it her interest in 
 his art that made her suffer such pangs and 
 burninofs of heart ? Von Plauen led her 
 straight into the room, where the scent and 
 colour of Oriental stuffs, of barbaric jars and 
 the soft light of lanterns, made a luxurious 
 surrounding to the couple. He was standing 
 up by the side of the lady on the sofa, as if 
 he had been disturbed there. Josquin looked 
 older. There was an intense look about his 
 face. This was no ordinary flirtation Lisa,
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 69 
 
 unlearned as she was in such things, told 
 herself. 
 
 Lichtenberg also seemed surprised to 
 see Josquin, but the latter was silent, at- 
 tempting no excuse for being there with his 
 niece. His manner was absent as he greeted 
 Lisa, but he pressed her hand kindly. As 
 for the bland young Prince, he was not at all 
 disconcerted. He went up to the couple, 
 saying that he had been looking for an oppor- 
 tunity all the evening of asking for the 
 romance that had enchanted them all the 
 night before. Would Cecile sing it, and M. 
 Dorioz play the accompaniment ? 
 
 ' It was impossible for that night,' Cecile 
 said ; ' there were too many strangers for her 
 to sing. It was out of the question.' 
 
 ' Sing the romance, my child, since the 
 Prince wishes it,' said Count Lichtenberg 
 gravely. ' You have no reason to be timid.' 
 At this moment, who should emerge from a
 
 70 ALCESTIS 
 
 small chinese-pagoda, where she had been dis- 
 coursing, hidden from Lisa's view, but Faus- 
 tina in her best brocade. The Doctor was 
 faithfully in attendance, and one or two others 
 of the party who had intruded on Fraulein 
 von Lichtenberg's retreat. 
 
 ' Ah ! my dear, do sing that lovely 
 romance ! ' Faustina said. * Hasse ought to 
 hear it, for he wasn't at the play last night. 
 It will delight everybody.' 
 
 ' Oh ! before you, dear Frau Capellmeis- 
 terin, it is impossible ! ' said Cecile, looking 
 infinitely bored. 
 
 ' What nonsense, my duchess ! Before 
 Faustina you can only not say No. You 
 sang it to perfection, and it does my old ears 
 good ! ' 
 
 Here Count von Plauen joined in the 
 entreaty and several others ; but it was no 
 use for Lichtenberg to look vexed, nor 
 for the greatest singer of Europe to implore.
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 71 
 
 The lady sat on, letting herself be pressed, 
 when with great affability, the young Prince 
 offered her a sky-blue arm, with a smile 
 which he seemed to think must be irresistible. 
 Cecile did not conceal her annoyance at the 
 whole intrusion, but she rose to take the 
 proffered arm, only saying languidly : 
 
 ' The Prince will lead me to the music- 
 room, but I cannot sing to-night. I am 
 tired, and the crowd is too great. Fraulein 
 Vaara will, no doubt, sing for you as much as 
 you like ! ' 
 
 And the look in her eyes was as hard as 
 the diamond that flashed in her bosom, while 
 she turned quickly to the woman whom she 
 pierced with her words. Faustina flounced 
 back into the pagoda furious : Count Lichten- 
 berg turned impatiently to lead Lisa to the 
 music-room to end a scene which had vexed 
 him. For Lisa this request to sing was a 
 command ; was she there for anything else ?
 
 72 ALCESTIS 
 
 They all passed into the concert-room again. 
 His Highness sat down next to Cecile 
 near the harpsichord, von Plauen alone was 
 waiting upon the young singer, who wanted an 
 accompanyist, when suddenly Josquin came 
 forward to her as if aroused from his dream- 
 ing, and asked if she had brought the piece 
 he had forgotten to arrange for her. When 
 she reminded him that it was unfinished yet, 
 he whispered : ' Lisa, kind sister, forgive me ; 
 I don't know what I have been about.' Lisa 
 could see that he was very much excited, 
 and it almost touched her for all the want 
 of confidence he had shown her. She got 
 through her song, and then the Capellmeister 
 came up to Josquin : * Oh, volatile son of a 
 French woman, what have you been doing 
 here ? composing an operetta, I hear : have 
 you had enough cakes and ale yet ? don't 
 waste your time any more, but come home 
 to work, Sir ; come home with me.'
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 73 
 
 ' Yes, Master, I return home to-morrow, 
 but I have not been quite idle, I assure you ; 
 the production of an operetta and rehearsing 
 in one week, is hard work.* 
 
 A good supper had been putting Hasse 
 into a more favourable humour than that he 
 had indulged during his drive with poor 
 Lisa. * Aye, aye, let me hear some of your 
 work ; they tell me of a good romance. Can't 
 I hear it before going to bed ? Lisa, I am 
 tired, will you soon be ready ? ' 
 
 Lisa was watching Josquin and listening 
 eagerly : was it that he wanted to please his 
 master, or that he was glad of an excuse for 
 approaching C6cile where she sat beside the 
 Prince ? He went across and whispered to her 
 to sing. He only seemed to say very few 
 words, but to the surprise of all who had 
 heard her persistently refuse her uncle, the 
 Prince, and Faustina, Fraulein von Lichten- 
 berg rose and allowed the young violinist to
 
 74 ALCESTIS 
 
 lead her to the harpsichord. To Lisa it was 
 no wonder if she sang for him if for no other. 
 He blew out the lights, for they wanted no 
 music, and seated himself to play for her 
 the accompaniment of the pretty romance 
 that had given so much pleasure the night 
 before. 
 
 It was but a small performance, but 
 Lisa listened with throbbing heart to the 
 high delicate voice of this belle da7ne sans 
 Tnerci spiriting away the heart of her musi- 
 cian while she sang. Everybody praised 
 composer and singer together. * Has she 
 not twenty admirers that she should claim 
 the heart of my only friend ? ' Lisa bitterly 
 thought ; and her heart felt sick, and she could 
 bear the stifling atmosphere no longer ; and 
 while all crowded round Cecile, she trusted 
 to get out unobserved. But it was vain to 
 try : von Plauen was at her side ; she was 
 helpless, and she let him lead her out to the
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 75 
 
 gallery and open its farthest window for her. 
 ' What can I fetch you ? ' the assiduous Count 
 was asking, and Lisa, longing for one moment 
 of solitude before going back to the hall, 
 asked him to fetch her a glass of wine and 
 water. Then she gratefully remained alone, 
 looking out on the terraces and calm gardens 
 beyond all bathed in bright moonlight. In 
 that moment she heard quick steps in the 
 gallery behind her, but the door was shut 
 and all was silent. 
 
 Lisa was standing at the very door where 
 one April morning, years ago, Josquin had 
 waited for his new master and had stepped 
 out on the terrace and down the stone steps 
 into the little apple-tree garden outside 
 Cecile von Lichtenberg's windows, and there 
 for the first time had seen his love : but Lisa 
 did not know how near she was to Cecile s 
 sanctum. She too thought the little garden 
 lovely, even with its winter trees, and the
 
 76 ALCESTIS 
 
 peaceful frosty sky calmed her, and welcom- 
 ing the cold air she leaned out into the 
 night. 
 
 It was only a minute she stood, but some 
 strange fate had brought her there to suffer. 
 Suddenly a door opened ; below in the little 
 walled garden, footsteps on the path ; Josquin 
 and Cecile were there, both pale in the 
 moonlight, she wrapped in a large fur cloak. 
 Theirs had been the steps in the gallery : 
 they seemed to have come to say farewell 
 here. What do people do when they say good- 
 bye ? they were silent in a long embrace ; 
 and Lisa could hear their voices clearly 
 through the frosty air. 
 
 * Cecile, is this a last kiss ! Dearest, 
 sweetest, you are trembling, what will you 
 have of me ? Hasse presses me to go to- 
 night, your uncle seems to wish it — shall I go ? 
 Speak ! I love you madly, Cecile ! help me • 
 help me ! '
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN -j-j 
 
 Cecile's voice answering, trembled 
 strangely. 
 
 * Yes, Josquin, be calm ; I implore you for 
 it is best you should go to-night. See, I have 
 shown them all that I love you ! let that 
 be enough ! — go at once. My uncle will be 
 coming to say good-night. I said I was 
 retiring for rest. You will be missed. For 
 Heaven's sake, Josquin, do not let me be 
 found here with you.' 
 
 Lisa heard no more, for Von Plauen 
 had returned with the glass of water. For 
 all the passion and anger at her heart 
 she would not betray Josquin to this enemy ! 
 She came forward to meet him. A few 
 minutes afterwards she was sitting upright, 
 stiff and dark, in the Hasse carriage, driving 
 away in silence, opposite the Capellmeister 
 and his wife, through the clear moonlight. 
 
 And Josquin was still in Cecile's garden. 
 He could no longer obey her strange capri-
 
 -jZ 'ALCESTIS 
 
 cious dictates, when, after showing before all 
 the world that she loved him, she told him to 
 go. If she returned his love there was no 
 call for parting : he was ready to sacrifice all 
 for such a dream. ' My Ceclle may I leave 
 all for you ? ' he said ; ' I will give up my pro- 
 fession, I will go to my uncle ; with your sweet 
 love to plead he will help.' But she was 
 vehement in her prayers that he would do 
 nothing rash. * Josquin, only let us know that 
 we love each other. Don't let us risk any 
 thing ; such moments as these are so precious 
 and so rare. We can look forward to them, 
 and so be consoled In absence.' 
 
 * But Cecile, I cannot live like this — It has 
 been possible one week. How can I go 
 back to the old life ? While I remain a poor 
 artist, I am not acting rightly in coming to 
 your uncle's house on false pretences. He 
 receives me only as his Kammer-Muslkus. 
 I come because I love yotc ! Ceclle, If you
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 79 
 
 let me, I will put an end to all this by trying 
 to win your hand/ 
 
 She trembled violently on his arm, and 
 her face suddenly changed in the moonlight. 
 
 'No, Josquin, I entreat you, spare me this 
 — I have tried to spare you but you will not 
 understand me. Why do you speak of 
 marriage ? You put an end to all our dream. 
 Marriage is for the world, Josquin — do you 
 not know — have you ,not seen that in the 
 world I belong to ' 
 
 * To me Cecile ! it is you have made me 
 bold ; you have not concealed your love. . . / 
 
 * But that is not marriage amongst us ! I 
 must tell you the truth but must it bring 
 parting ? Will you cease to love me ? . . .* 
 but here there was a sound in the house 
 behind them and she looked up frightened, 
 and hurriedly faltered out : 
 
 * Oh Josquin — this evening in that room —
 
 So ALCESTIS 
 
 the formal betrothal — they will be coming to 
 look for us — my uncle and this prince. . . / 
 
 Josquin let the arm hang that had clasped 
 and supported her. She clung to a railing for 
 support, as she turned to go into the house. 
 
 'Josquin, I was right. I am still right. 
 You are a musician, you have been my love. 
 You could not be my husband. I dare not 
 stay now ; my uncle is coming to call me 
 to him. . . . Good-bye.' 
 
 ' For God's sake, Cecile, come back ! tell 
 me it is not true !' Josquin cried out, as she 
 turned away. 
 
 * Josquin, forgive ! be merciful ! hide 
 yourself ! ' she said, turning back her white 
 face imploringly. * I hear my uncle ! Good- 
 bye.' 
 
 There were lights inside her apartment, 
 shining through the curtains. Josquin's first 
 impulse was to rush into the house, and tell 
 how he had been betrayed — tell the Prince
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 
 
 that he too was betrayed ! She would belong 
 to him before the world ! 
 
 Josquin stood there for long, stunned at 
 first by the truth — the cruel disillusion. 
 Then a great hatred of the place suddenly 
 seized him, and he rushed away, cold and 
 shivering after the fever and excitement of 
 the evening, unable to control himself, weep- 
 ing passionately for very pity and anger, when 
 he thought of his miserable love. The blow 
 which had dashed his whole illusion to the 
 ground had come so suddenly that the reaction 
 against his happiness of an hour ago was 
 horrible. He threw himself on the road-side 
 and wept till his very senses were dulled, and 
 he still lay in the wide noontide of the bright 
 night, when every sound had died away 
 round the house, till it seemed to him he 
 could hear, in the awful stillness and bright- 
 ness, the pulses of great Nature beat as his 
 own beat with wild fruitless throbs. Then, 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 S2 ALCESTIS 
 
 lying in a strange wrought-up state, it seemed 
 to him that from it all a soothing harmony- 
 arose, voices in the night, and in his own soul 
 a voice ; one thing alone in the wide world 
 beckoned to him, his music, his neglected 
 work. He thought of Alcestis ; and he rose 
 up again impelled by the force of an inspira- 
 tion to rush home and write. The silent streets 
 spoke the same ideas. Josquin barely knew 
 that he was running through them, instinc- 
 tively seeking the Kloster-haus, where he 
 was most used to work. The old house lay 
 white and silent. Lisa s window was white. 
 Josquin thought, will she, my Alcestis, ever 
 know pain like mine ? 
 
 Lisa was staring at the white square of 
 moonlight that lay upon her floor : her heart 
 was going over and over again its sad ques- 
 tionings. Was it then for this Josquin left his 
 profession, his purpose, his friendship with 
 Jier ? just for a little elegance, a little loveliness, 
 
 I
 
 AT THE VILLA AGAIN 83 
 
 a little grace and refinement ? perhaps, after 
 all, these were the most desirable things in all 
 the world, and in C6cile Josquin found them, 
 and with her he found all misunderstood. 
 Josquin was that night still at the Villa and 
 to-morrow would he have returned, and for 
 how long, and where was the use of wishing 
 to keep him where his heart was not ? As 
 Lisa mused thus, suddenly there came cutting 
 sharp through the frosty air the cry of a 
 violin. Startled, she raised herself and 
 listened : the player seemed to be fighting 
 with a very demon within him, for he drew 
 chords upon chords in wildest harmonies 
 from its strings ; then suddenly overcoming, 
 he burst into a loud impassioned melody that 
 went to Lisa's very heart. 'Josquin, poor 
 Josquin ! What are you doing ? ' She went 
 to her window, there was the light in his 
 room, he had come back! was this his 
 
 G2
 
 84 ALCESTIS 
 
 serenade good-night to Cecile ? The great 
 burst of melody had opened Lisa s full heart 
 before too burning to let her weep. The 
 light was gone from Josquin's window, the 
 music had ceased, but she wept for long in 
 sympathy. And then Josquin's soul had 
 received comfort, and he was sleeping, and 
 before morning Lisa too slept with a relieved 
 heart.
 
 PART II. 
 
 We leam in sorrow what we teach in song. — Shelley.
 
 i
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS. 
 
 There is a picture by Caracci in the Dresden 
 Gallery which poetically illustrates the words, 
 of the serene Goethe — 
 
 Wer nie sein Brod mit Thranen ass, 
 
 Der kennt euch nicht, Ihr himmlische Machte. 
 
 It represents St. Francis, exhausted and 
 languishing after long humiliation, being 
 supported by the heavenly music of a consol- 
 ing angel. And it has seemed to me that 
 the robust young immortal, with his earthly 
 brown violin, is not an unfit image of 
 Josquin's muse at this time, who came to cheer 
 him with new inspirations and mysterious 
 beatings of heart.
 
 88 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' Yes, Lisa,' he exclaimed, the day after 
 his return from the Villa, when he told her 
 for the first time of his old struggle because 
 of Ceclle, of his sudden call to leave her and 
 return to music, of her coming again In soft- 
 ness and kindness to renew all his passion, 
 of his rude disillusion — ' It seems as If I had 
 ever been In love with two mistresses, and 
 my life has failed miserably, because It has 
 been impossible to serve both — my music and 
 her whom I have loved as a first love.' 
 
 He had opened all his heart to Lisa, but 
 it was she herself who had come to find him 
 with outstretched hands, following an irre- 
 sistible impulse the morning after hearing his 
 violin in the night. She had then drunk the 
 dregs of her cup in her self-humiliation at her 
 own hopeless fancy and bitter jealousy ; but at 
 her waking the next morning all these feelings 
 had vanished, she had guessed his pain, and 
 in that moment she had felt that all estrange-
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 89 
 
 ment was at an end between them. * Oh 
 Josquin, it was good, It was beautiful what I 
 heard last night ; it has told me so much, 
 will you not tell me all ? ' she came to him 
 saying : and when he had ended all his con- 
 fession of his life, with its two loves, to which 
 she was only third, she received it calmly 
 and only said : ' We will talk no more about 
 C^cile, but I am glad you have told me all ; 
 we will talk only of music. You will live for 
 it now, Josquin.' 'To this rival Lisa did not 
 grudge him. 
 
 A note had come that morning to make 
 him realise what had happened the night 
 before, what had seemed a dream at his 
 waking. It was from Lichtenberg. 
 
 The Count addressed his favourite with the 
 first cold words he had ever given him ; his 
 feeling seemed to be completely changed by 
 what had happened. Once he had warned 
 Josquin against the indulgence of any senti-
 
 90 ALCESTIS 
 
 ment while under his roof; he had not con- 
 cealed from the musician that his high- 
 flown enthusiasm stopped short at any of 
 life's real romance, and now to his strange 
 dislike of the absorbing passion of love was 
 joined a little jealousy ; he believed that all 
 these years Josquin had remained with him 
 for his niece's sake and not his own, and 
 suspicion and mistrust made all his affection 
 disappear. 
 
 Her marriage with Valentin was after his 
 own heart ; calm, lofty and refined, was the 
 feeling Cecile inspired in the Prince's heart 
 — thus he wrote to Josquin. The wedding was 
 not to take place for three months, on account 
 of the approaching death of the Prince's 
 father, whose wishes had brought about his 
 son's engagement. His Excellence regretted 
 the delay, and added that though they would 
 remain at the Villa till the time of the 
 marriage, he wished to be as quiet there as
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 91 
 
 possible in the interval ; they would have no 
 music, and he begged Josquin to consider the 
 present note a farewell for some months. 
 
 Thus did Josquin find himself shut out 
 in the cold from a world of delight and 
 agreeable intercourse, and thus did the 
 heavenly messenger come to cheer him in 
 his poverty when deprived of all most 
 precious to him. Very poor without this 
 visitor would the musician have been ; besides, 
 the cruel wound to be healed only by time, 
 besides sentimental griefs, there were other 
 small miseries coming hardly to the most 
 mercurial spirit; with the muse, there were 
 other cruel visitors equally prone to take up 
 their abode with the young and beautiful — 
 Poverty, selling his chairs and tables (for he 
 had been spending largely of late, and his 
 first quarters salary for playing in the 
 orchestra was not due yet, and when it came 
 it would go in paying his summer debts, and
 
 92 ALCESTIS 
 
 only through the porter's good-will did 
 Josquin keep terms at all with his landlord); 
 and one still more dread — Illness, making 
 all existence, however hard, appear beautiful. 
 But happily of this unthought-of danger he 
 was little conscious, though it had been 
 discovered by a kind friend who at this time 
 began to take an active interest in him. 
 
 This was the courtly Doctor, whom we 
 have seen picking the young violinist up on 
 the road to Dresden. He had heard his 
 praises from Faustina, had come to see him, 
 and, delighted with his playing, had made 
 him perform at his house. The Doctor told 
 him to take care of himself, not to work too 
 much, or play too much ; but he saw that the 
 young man took it all lightly, besides that, 
 he wanted something more than good 
 advice. 
 
 The Capellmeisterin told him all she 
 knew of his life and youth. He was quite
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 93 
 
 penetrated with this history of devotion to 
 art, told him, we may beHeve, by Faustina, in 
 her most picturesque fashion, and finding that 
 his endeavours to help him himself were use- 
 less, he bethought him of the rich merchant 
 princes in Vienna, for whose life of ease and 
 luxury the musician had exchanged his 
 present life, and wondered whether now in 
 his distress they would be persuaded to come 
 to his help. When he spoke, however, of it 
 to Josquin, the suggestion seemed to torment 
 him. ' The time is past now,' he had said. 
 * If I was to have turned back from the 
 plough, it would have been long ago ; now, at 
 least, I am free from the thought of all those 
 probabilities. What you suggest would be 
 clipping my wings, Doctor, when I have once 
 
 escaped from the broken net.' 
 
 K 
 
 * The bland Doctor, however, was accus- 
 tomed to act for his patients ; he knew all 
 their secrets ; he seemed to have the ends
 
 94 ALCESTIS 
 
 of all the tangled threads of the little life 
 around In his hands, to know where they 
 combined, and twist and work them ac- 
 cording to his discretion — all the while with 
 the kindly smile in his beard, that seemed so 
 magically to inspire confidence. He now 
 thought of Cecile, and determined to make 
 her the instrument of help to Josquln. He 
 went out to the Villa, and found the lady 
 choosing some wonderful Indian shawls to 
 be thrown into her husband's wedding pre- 
 sent. At Josquln's name she grew a little 
 pale, and her lips quivered when the Doctor 
 gave his description. * Why doesn't he come 
 to us ? ' she said, ' my uncle would help him. 
 Ah ! Doctor, there are no secrets from you ; 
 but I was not to blame. What could I do 
 but be kind ? I did not think he would take 
 me to be so in earnest.* 
 
 ' My lovely child, you have learnt your 
 lesson. You had once a fine instrument,
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 95 
 
 which you did not know at first how to play 
 on. You neglected it till you learnt the 
 secret of its sweetness, then you used it just 
 to please yourself, as you would have done 
 any other, and it broke. It remains silent, 
 and you will not again meet with such a 
 one.' 
 
 The tears filled her eyes, but she said im- 
 patiently : ' Oh ! It Is all a mistake, your ro- 
 mance and sentiment ! One day I found I 
 liked my uncle's favourite player. Suppose 
 I had made him give up his profession, or 
 run away with him, and as suddenly found 
 out that I got tired of him ? No, Doctor, 
 c'est bon pour le peuple ! we in our life, are 
 not meant to have hearts,' and she looked at 
 her shawls with dried eyes. 
 
 When the Doctor, however, asked her to 
 do something for Josquin, by appealing to 
 her uncle, or to his people in Vienna, on his 
 behalf, she laughed at the suggestion. ' You
 
 96 ALCESTIS 
 
 do not know my uncle, I dare not speak to 
 him ; but I can go to the good Fraulein von 
 Gasparein — M. Dorioz shall have an allow- 
 ance — he must not want. Then he shall 
 come and play at my house. . . . After all, 
 he always preferred music to me.' 
 
 She composed an exquisite French note 
 to Brigitta von Gasparein, appealing to the 
 romantic heart of the most hopeful of Josquin 's 
 aunts. She knew that the good lady loved 
 to display sensibility. She drew a touching 
 picture of Josquin's misery ; and, warming in 
 her description, she dwelt so much on the 
 likelihood of his returning to his family, in 
 the hour of his weakness, that the note 
 might have been read as a message from the 
 nephew, confessing that he was ready to 
 throw himself at his uncle's feet. 
 
 Oh, Josquin ! pouring out in your quiet 
 chamber the expression of all your want and 
 pain ! What would you have said to this
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 97 
 
 pink and white composition ? What, still 
 more, to the reply it elicited ? Fraulein von 
 Gasparein thanked her niece a few days after, 
 for her beautiful letter, and assured her that 
 when she arrived in Dresden for her marriage, 
 she would make a point of visiting the 
 prodigal in the hour of his repentance, and 
 of herself administering to his needs. 
 
 Unconscious however of the visit preparing 
 for him, and with doctor advising above, and 
 landlord threatening below, Josquin worked 
 on consoled by his muse ; and the fancies 
 visited him as they used in the old days 
 of boyhood, and they found him matured by 
 the experience of his years of training, so 
 that new harmonies every day seemed to be- 
 come possible to him, and the work which 
 was the child of many fitful impulses and 
 changing moods of passion, was completed 
 with life, and vigour, and inspiration. 
 
 Lisa used to wonder at the strange ex 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 98 ALCESTIS 
 
 citement that seemed to succeed his moment 
 of apathy. She was only thankful to have 
 him working by her side, perhaps if she had 
 seen Josquin's mother in her last days, and 
 recognised poor Nanine's colour and last 
 expression she would have been more 
 anxious. His eyes were bright and earnest, 
 and the eager looks he turned on her were 
 not called out by her, she knew ; some inner 
 power seemed to feed them. Was it still 
 Cecile ? or was it only the work, the 
 progress of which she saw with such interest ? 
 She felt sure that it was good and beautiful ; 
 it might mean Cecile — it would overcome 
 C6cile ! and very near was its success to her 
 heart. To Josquin her praise of his opera 
 was very valuable, and her judgment was 
 all the more precious to him because it had 
 often before differed from his. 
 
 But Josquin was to receive another 
 powerful source of encouragement at this
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 99 
 
 time to cheer him on, and to buoy up his 
 hopes. His opera was finished six weeks 
 after his last visit to the Villa, and he then 
 took it to the master of whose help he could 
 now make tolerably sure. It was ever since 
 his tour with Count Lichtenberg that Hasse 
 had openly recognised his pupil's power ; his 
 vanity had then been constantly flattered 
 by receiving the compliments of the various 
 masters of Germany and Italy, who praised 
 Josquin's talent, and these praises softened 
 his prejudice, till he saw that the composer 
 would contribute to his glory as much as 
 Elisabetha did by her singing. The young 
 man had been loyal to him, and the master 
 so needed support that he forgot any jealousy 
 that might have mingled with his feelings of 
 the old days. Still his pupil had not alto- 
 gether satisfied him since his return, and he 
 still lamented over his tendency to depart 
 
 from the most orthodox models. 
 H 2
 
 lOO 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 Josquin therefore knew beforehand pretty 
 well what his master would say, and stood be- 
 hind his chair, with difficulty restraining his 
 impatience, while he looked over the last act of 
 the opera, accompanying his reading with such 
 remarks as : ' Well, well, what have we here ? 
 An Aria do you call it ? nothing but accom- 
 paniment. You young men spoil all by your 
 pig-headed scorn of your unfortunate prima- 
 donnas ; but I can tell you you will not get 
 many to sing this accompaniment of the 
 voice to the flute — and here, what a scramble 
 have you got your violins Into, accelerando 
 al forte ; yes, plenty of fire and faggot we 
 know you can give us, but what does this 
 scoring mean ? ' and dashing the book down 
 on the harpsichord, he began playing it 
 frantically. ' Lord have mercy on us, hark 
 to those fifths. Very well, and here it ends. 
 What! No Da Capo?' Josquin, vexed 
 and nervous, begged the Capellmeister at last
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS loi 
 
 to let him play over the last part himself.. 
 Hasse flung himself back after his last out- 
 burst and let him do as he liked, and the 
 young man sat down and went through it, 
 rather singing explanations than speaking 
 them. All the while he played a voice occa- 
 sionally came through the doors of Hasse's 
 stuffy sanctum, a voice calling a shrill * Bravo, 
 benissimo ! ' The master, who began to calm 
 down, and praise, sternly ignored it, but the 
 player could only be inspired by it, and he 
 got excited over his work ; and when he 
 had ended Hasse exclaimed generously and 
 warmly : * My boy, this is a fine work. I 
 have never doubted your genius ; keep it for 
 some years and bring back to it all the ex- 
 perience that you will gain in that time, and 
 meanwhile compose another . . .' But at 
 that moment he was interrupted, for the door 
 was shut to, and Faustina, in her morning 
 deshabille, with flying hair, beamed forward.
 
 102 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' My good soul, what are you talking about ? 
 
 A few years ! In a few years where may we 
 
 all be ? and you put off the reaping of such a 
 
 harvest to your successors ? We have here a 
 
 second Gluck — a bright star in our old age ! 
 
 I know not if it lacks experience ; I know that 
 
 it speaks to my soul. Come, play that over 
 
 again.' And as Josquin played, she herself 
 
 joined in with her shrill but noble old tones. 
 
 ' Spoiling the man, as usual, Faustina ; you 
 
 are mad,' Hasse grumbled ; but when she had 
 
 left them he spoke gently to Josquin. ' It is 
 
 for your own interest I want you to lay it by ; 
 
 times are hard, opinions changing so fast that 
 
 one doesn't know what may be called for next ; 
 
 but you know my position, Josquin — who 
 
 would think now that I once commanded the 
 
 whole taste of the court ? — and you know the 
 
 Intendant. Unless public opinion were strong 
 
 enough to influence him in your case, I think 
 
 you would have more chance with a more
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 103 
 
 conventional work ; but if you wish this now 
 to be offered to him, I will promise you all 
 my interest.' 
 
 How could Josquin consent to put this on 
 one side for a more conventional work ? This 
 had been the greatest inspiration of his life, 
 and he had a right to believe in it. While 
 he paused to answer, Faustina mysteriously 
 called her husband out of the room, and a few 
 minutes after returned alone with a sparkle 
 in her eyes. ' My boy, you stay to breakfast 
 with us, just as you are. I have sent Hasse 
 in to talk to a friend I have been receiving 
 It has been a reconciliation, after a sad mis- 
 understanding of some years. It is all going 
 on beautifully. You see, at my age, I cannot 
 afford to lose a friend for the sake of old 
 jealousies. And such a friend ! Come and 
 see him presently. I take no refusal. Rest 
 here half an hour, and then make yourself 
 look your very best in Hasse s looking-glass,
 
 I04 ALCESTIS 
 
 and come and join us ; ' and she vanished. 
 And Josquin, fatigued and excited, did not 
 consider much for whom he had been told to 
 make himself look nice, and wondered what 
 answer he had best give Hasse. 
 
 When he came into Faustina's salon, the 
 stranger was engaged in earnest conversation 
 with the husband and wife. ' Here is our 
 young genius,' she said ; but she introduced 
 him thus without naming the guest, and 
 taking his arm, went in first to the repast, and 
 left her husband and Josquin to follow. 
 
 The stranger was middle-aged, calm, and 
 lofty, but simple in his appearance. His 
 dress was plain, but every detail showed a 
 courtly elegance. The lace of his ruffles 
 fell over large perfectly-shaped hands. A 
 smile lit up his countenance when his 
 mouth remained uncurved. He seemed, In- 
 deed, to look down, with a serenity that 
 bespoke the divinest mood, on a fussy world.
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 105 
 
 without vanity, untouched by its Httle- 
 nesses, filled only with the beauty of life. 
 
 * What was his rank ? what was the height 
 from which he looked down on them all ? * 
 Josquin asked himself, as he gazed on the 
 stranger, fascinated as he had never been 
 before. Was he some prince who transformed 
 the world into an earthly paradise, or only 
 some ambassador, who had acquired this 
 dignified repose in courts .^ Faustina sat 
 next him, with her brown eyes sparkling. 
 She was dressed in her best, and was bring 
 ing out all the treasures of her memory and 
 bright wit, and affectionately poured out her 
 heart in every glance to the distinguished 
 guest. She made Josquin talk too, and even 
 Hasse caught the infection of her vivacity, 
 and conversed and clinked glasses festively. 
 
 When breakfast was over, Faustina said : 
 
 * And now, chevalier, you shall hear our 
 young genius. He left Vienna just as you
 
 io6 ALCESTIS 
 
 came last year ; ' and she began to undo the 
 fastenings of the violin-case. 
 
 ^ I have heard of M. Dorioz there,' the 
 stranger answered ; and he took up his violin 
 and examined it. ' That instrument alone is 
 enough to make you a great musician. It is 
 not everyone who deserves such a treasure. 
 I expect something of you.' 
 
 But Josquin was not at ease. Suddenly 
 he became shy in the presence of this man, 
 whose loftiness of tone made him wonder. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Josquin ? ' said Faus- 
 tina. * Sharpen our appetite, my boy, with 
 some delicious roulades, and then play all you 
 know.' 
 
 Even the bland stranger seemed to observe 
 that his hands trembled, and he said kindly : 
 
 ' Perhaps the player wants to be tuned as 
 well as the fiddle ; let me play you something 
 iirst.' And he sat down to the clavichord and 
 spread his large beautiful white hands on the
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 107 
 
 keys. He played a short prelude, looking at 
 Faustina with a sweet placid smile ; then he 
 took up the violin, and handed it to Josquin. 
 The young man seemed compelled to obey, 
 and he began immediately to take the theme 
 of what the stranger had played, and executed 
 the most charming variations on it. He 
 seemed to lose his shyness, and become ex- 
 cited over the difficult performance, till at 
 length he ended with a prestissimo, making 
 his hearers smile by his excitement. 
 
 * Bravo ! I should like to have done that 
 myself,' exclaimed the stranger. * You have 
 a superb talent. Now I will show you 
 something of my best. Tell me how you 
 like this Romance.' 
 
 And he began playing and singing, with 
 delicious dreaminess, a divine smooth air, 
 which transported his hearers. ' Capellmeis- 
 terin ! ' suddenly exclaimed Josquin. * Tell 
 me, that I am not mistaken ! It is the Ritter
 
 loS ALCESTIS 
 
 Gluck!' He was greatly excited, and 
 stood up with his eyes shining and his Hps 
 trembhng uncontrollably. 
 
 ' Ah, Ritter ! ' cried out Faustina, ' this is 
 better than the praise of an old woman — 
 better than that of courts, is it not ? You 
 have here a disciple ! ' 
 
 The master smiled calmly and kindly on 
 the two. ' M. Dorioz is one of us,' he said; 
 ' his playing shows me a fresh Intelligence of 
 unusual power, and I must see his music' 
 
 *Yes, you shall see a fine work he has 
 just finished,' began Faustina ; but her 
 husband interrupted severely from the other 
 end of the room. 
 
 * Dorioz had far better not show his 
 Alcestis for some days, till it is perfected.' 
 
 ' Alcestis ? ' said Gluck ; * that is a subject 
 of which I have often thought. Porpora has 
 written a ponderous Alcestis, Martini a flip- 
 pant Alcestis. Let me see what this bright 
 young soul has made of his opera. No,
 
 THE BREAD OF TEARS 109 
 
 Capellmelster, no delay. Let him bring It to 
 us at once.' 
 
 * It Is already here,' said Faustina. ' You 
 shall take It home with you.' 
 
 Josquin returned home that morning with 
 beating heart. He threw himself In his 
 chair, and looking round on his little room, 
 felt, for the first time for many days, a delight- 
 ful sensation of relief and quietness of heart. 
 In his lonely chamber his beloved score had 
 been his companion for weeks. He had 
 lived in It, not thinking of success or failure, 
 only giving himself up to the joy of seeing it 
 grow under a blesssed impulse. Now it had 
 gone forth into the world, his work was done. 
 His opera was in the hands of the divine 
 chevalier. He felt that he should sleep well 
 after the many nights that he had been kept 
 awake by the excitement of production ; and 
 all night the gracious presence of the 
 great master hovered about his bed, and his 
 dreams were pervaded by the smile of Gluck.
 
 no ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 While Josquin was thus being consoled, 
 Lisa's peace was once more disturbed by a 
 trouble that daily threatened it more. Since 
 Josquin's confession to her, their life had 
 gone as before ; and as she saw him returning 
 to their mutual interests, and their art which 
 linked them together, she satisfied herself 
 that she asked for nothing more than to 
 know him working by her side ; and she 
 would have been calm and almost happy but 
 for the shadow which crossed her way 
 wherever she turned. It was that of Count 
 von Plauen, whose increasing devotion to 
 her was already being discussed in the
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE in 
 
 Dresden world, who attributed various mean- 
 ings to this new fancy of the extravagant 
 Hof-Intendant's. It created wonder, because 
 although Lisa had many admirers, and was 
 quite the rage of the musical world, she had 
 gained the reputation of severity from the 
 few who knew her, of prudery from her 
 theatrical rivals, and of insensibility from the 
 lovely gentlemen in silk and powder who 
 sent her notes that she did not answer, and 
 bouquets that she left in the green-room. 
 Some said that he only paid her attentions 
 in order to gain the help of her talents for 
 his own compositions ; others wondered at 
 his having such an admiration for her singing, 
 seeing that her taste was so widely different 
 from his own. Those who admired her most 
 thought it only natural that the Vaara's 
 strange power and northern beauty should 
 have charms for him that opposition only 
 heightened.
 
 112 ALCESTIS 
 
 And Lisa wondered, too, at the Infatua- 
 tion which made von Plauen overlook all her 
 impatience and scorn. She reproached herself 
 for that one evening at the Villa, when she 
 had almost gratefully accepted the support 
 of his arm. Bitterly she thought of the all- 
 powerfulness of the man at the opera, which 
 made it impossible for her to dismiss him 
 scornfully and finally from her life and her 
 thoughts. But every moment she was re- 
 minded that not only for herself would a break 
 from him be fatal, but for Josquin ; that the 
 time had come when it was woe to him if he 
 found no favour in the Hof-Intendant's eyes. 
 
 All alone Lisa tried to resolve the 
 problem. There was no one with whom she 
 could take natural counsel. The tender but 
 blank Regenfurth had a life's devotion ready 
 to give her dearest charge, and a tear always 
 ready to fall from her left eye ; but her Imagi- 
 nation did not stretch far enough to suggest
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 113 
 
 that anything might alter things from the 
 way they had already happened, or were 
 going to happen, and her conversation chiefly 
 consisted In repeating Lisa's last words in an 
 interrogative tone. Yet If she had been a 
 more open-minded old lady, she would not 
 so well have suited her sensitive charge ; and 
 as it was, her affection, her goodness of heart, 
 and charity thinking no evil, shed a sort of 
 soft moonlight over the young singer's 
 existence. Regenfurth hoped all things Lisa 
 hoped, believed all things Lisa told her, and 
 was ignorant of all things ; and yet no change 
 in the girl's aspect escaped her. She saw with 
 sorrow that her sombre, abstracted moods 
 seemed to Increase upon her ; that she would 
 sit for hours giving herself up to some gloomy 
 reflection, till her work called her to rouse 
 herself. Then she would rise with effort 
 indeed, but the exercise of her art seemed 
 always to give her strength and delight, and 
 VOL. II. 1
 
 114 ALCESTIS 
 
 she brought to it more power than ever In 
 the hours of reaction. At these performances 
 von Plauen was always present. 
 
 Lisa persistently refused any of his offers 
 of introduction, and avoided as much as 
 possible being seen in the same places as 
 himself. But just about the time of the finish- 
 ing of Josquin's opera, when he was about 
 to take it to Hasse, she received an invitation 
 from the Intendant to sing at a fete, which he 
 wrote to tell her he had organised expressly 
 for her. Hasse, whom she requested to 
 refuse for her, had entreated her to accept. 
 Lisa in despair had told herself that it was 
 no use to struggle against the Intendant 
 when she came professionally in contact with 
 him. At the end of the season she would 
 try to leave Dresden for some years. She 
 would all the while do all she could to turn 
 his favour to good use for Josquin. So she
 
 AUNT BRIG ITT A TO THE RESCUE 115 
 
 consented to take part In a performance 
 which was quite in the taste of the time. 
 
 The Count received his guests in a large 
 
 jar din d'hiver, or immense conservatory, for 
 the opening of which he had composed a 
 Cantata. In it the author himself appeared 
 as Archimagus, invoking all the spirits of 
 the air, earth and sea ; in turn they all 
 appeared to him, a wondrous procession of 
 beasts, a chorus of trilling nightingales, a 
 fountain suddenly springing from a cool 
 grotto appearing where had only been 
 trellised walls, discovering nymphs, tritons 
 blowing through their horns, and sea-monsters 
 braying in tune. All these delights appeared 
 before the enchanted audience ; and then, to 
 the sound of soft music, von Plauen s Muse 
 was disclosed amid dark laurels, and came 
 
 i forward to crown the poet. The whole 
 performance was a surprise to Lisa. She had 
 
 ^been requested only to appear draped amid
 
 ii6 ALCESTIS 
 
 the trees, and sing what von Plauen had 
 sent her. She had thought It only the 
 Intendant's unnecessary pedantry that had 
 made him elaborate every detail of her dress 
 and gesture in the rehearsal, which she went 
 through as quickly and Indifferently as 
 possible. When the evening came, she was 
 in her place before the other performers, and 
 then below, In the garden, saw the wonderful 
 spectacle von Plauen had prepared ; and 
 when she herself came forward with the 
 laurel crown in her hand, found that she was 
 crowning him amid the applause of all. 
 Faustina was there, and Hasse, and with 
 them the great chevalier. Von Plauen looked 
 round to introduce Lisa to him, but she was 
 gone. 
 
 In great anger she returned home, pray- 
 ing that she might not have many such 
 sacrifices to make for the sake of Josquins 
 success.
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 117 
 
 It was the morning after that he came 
 happily to tell her of his meeting with the 
 Chevalier Gluck. He knew nothing of the 
 performance at Count von Plauen's, only that 
 Lisa was going there the day before. He 
 found her somewhat dishevelled, but her 
 golden hair made sunshine in the room ; and 
 if she seemed to him nervous and excited, 
 was it not with the effort she had been 
 making for his sake the night before ? The 
 two friends were no longer boy and girl to- 
 gether, affording to quarrel, taking lightly the 
 little rubs of life. Those who live by art — 
 the quick, impressionable ones — live quickly ; 
 and both, still so young, seemed to have 
 reached the time when emotions are a strong 
 tide below the surface. Josquin had not lost 
 the old radiance, but he was less impetuous, 
 more reticent. He was often grave now. 
 And she had changed in a different way ; her 
 childhood had been spent in dreams ; life's
 
 ii8 ALCESTIS 
 
 realities seemed to bring her an irritability 
 which was the cost of her earnest way of 
 looking at things. She was restless ; and 
 though Josquin felt more and more the 
 nobility and dignity of her character, her 
 stormy moods were oppressive to him some- 
 times, and with the greatest difficulty he 
 controlled himself. Coming now to her, 
 full of the bright impression left by his 
 meeting with the chevalier, he would have 
 liked to reproduce the impression for her 
 when he told her of Hasse's kind promise, 
 Faustina's praise. Chick's judgment coming 
 in a day or two, and of the chevaliers 
 charm and greatness. But she was strangely 
 excited, asked questions before he had time 
 to tell his story ; and at last, when he told 
 her about Cluck, seemed only to seize the 
 idea that Josquin had better try and bring 
 out his work in Vienna, under the great com- 
 poser's patronage. 
 
 * Lisa, have we worked so long together 
 
 I
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 119 
 
 without your knowing what a different thing 
 that would be for me ? Without you to sing 
 in my opera, how much it would lose ! 
 Besides, now that the Capellmeister promises 
 to help me. . . / 
 
 She did not seem to hear what he was 
 saying, only sat gazing sadly before her, as 
 if she followed a weary train of ideas. He 
 spoke again, only with an impatient wish to 
 change the subject. 
 
 ' You were last night at Count von 
 Plauen's. What took place there ? ' 
 
 She started, for he seemed to be reading 
 what she was thinking, and she dreaded his 
 guessing any of her forebodings. 
 
 'Yes, Josquin, I sang there. Was it not 
 natural that he should engage me for his 
 Cantata ? Why do you ask ? What have 
 you been hearing about it ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing at all ; I only knew you were 
 going. Faustina said something about it 
 yesterday, and I did not like to hear her say
 
 120 ALCESTIS 
 
 that you could do anything you pleased for 
 my success. Forgive me, dearest sister, but 
 I would rather not have heard of your being 
 there from Faustina.' 
 
 Lisa rose ; tears, the first he had ever 
 seen her shed, were in her eyes. She strove 
 to hide them, but suddenly burst out : * Ah ! 
 Josquin, you do not know the sting of an 
 older woman's words : you should not have 
 spoken thus.' 
 
 ' What have I said ? forgive me ! ' he ex- 
 claimed. ' Lisa, dearest sister, you are over- 
 tired ; you are doing too much.' 
 
 He had himself become pale. An ex- 
 treme sensibility cannot support any mani- 
 festation of agitation in another, and Josquin 
 soon left her to Regenfurth's care ; and for 
 some days he almost shrank from seeing her 
 again. 
 
 During those days he waited patiently for 
 further news from Hasse, but he feared to
 
 AUNT BRIG ITT A TO THE RESCUE 121 
 
 hope too much. At last he received a 
 summons from the Capellmelster, to hear 
 good news. The ChevaHer Gluck had 
 returned the score of the opera, speaking In 
 words, golden to Josquin, of his pleasure In 
 the good work ; adding to the kindest criti- 
 cism a few marks of his own pen, carefully 
 crossing the MS., and expressing his con- 
 viction that the pupil would add to the 
 master's glory, for he had an uncommon 
 genius. Here, then, was a giant's praise to 
 buoy up Josquin's hopes, and new encourage- 
 ment ; for he sent a kind message, hoping 
 that he should see the young composer in 
 Vienna, where he would be glad at any time 
 to help him on. Hasse was greatly delighted. 
 He made Josquin leave his score with him, 
 that he might present it at his discretion to 
 the Hof-Intendant. 
 
 All joyfully Josquin was returning to the 
 Kloster-haus, and making straight for Lisa's
 
 122 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 door. In seeking her at once, he did not 
 even remember the slight shadow that had 
 come between him and her when they had 
 spoken of von Plauen, and his mind rested 
 in happy satisfaction never further from the 
 disagreeable thoughts that generally greeted 
 him at the porter s door — landlords, relatives, 
 doctors, Hof-Intendants — when, coming past 
 the lodge, he was accosted by the Inevitable 
 porter, pouring out in one breath : ' M. 
 Dorioz ! M. Dorioz ! it Is no use your looking 
 up to heaven as you pass my door. Speak I 
 must, by order of the Herr Proprletaire, who 
 this very day was here to order the change 
 in your domicile, that I have been obliged to 
 warn you of. M. Dorioz, listen ; it Is no use 
 for you to pretend you are In a hurry. I have 
 something very Important to tell you. Who 
 do you think was here at the very time to 
 save your apartment ? None other than the 
 lady who came in the smart coach you see at
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 123 
 
 the door ; she asked me questions about you, 
 called you her nephew, and actually paid your 
 rent for the last quarter. Ah ! M. Dorioz, I 
 thought you would listen. See, her coach Is 
 still at the door ! * 
 
 * Called me her nephew ? My aunt ? 
 Why, blockhead, didn't you say I was 
 out .? ' 
 
 ' I did, M. Dorioz, but she said she 
 would wait. Besides, when she has paid your 
 rent ! But it isn't the end of my story. Who 
 do you think was here, calling on the Fraulein 
 Vaara, at the time of the arrival of your 
 respected aunt. . . .' 
 
 Josquin raged ; he would listen no more. 
 * Hold your stupid gossip. If the lady has 
 chosen to wait, you are a fool for letting any- 
 one in in my absence. Now,' he said, ' she 
 can wait longer.' 
 
 * M. Dorioz, hear me ! ' said the porter ; 
 but he was gone. He was determined, what-
 
 124 ALCESTIS 
 
 ever the mystery was, first to have his happy 
 minute in pouring into Lisa's ear the words 
 of Gluck's letter ; and he sprang across the 
 court, and rang the tinkHng bell at her 
 door. The next moment it was opened 
 brusquely, and Josquin was nearly over- 
 turned by a man hastily passing out, 
 pulling his hat over his eyes. Josquin recog- 
 nised the Count von Plauen. What did it 
 mean, his pale face, the angry look he threw 
 on the young man ? * Canaille ! ' he said to 
 his face, and he was gone ! 
 
 ' Oh, cruel fate ! ' Josquin exclaimed to 
 himself; for in a moment it seemed to flash 
 on him that this hatred of the man he 
 depended on, was — jealousy. But he had 
 passed into the ante-chamber — a sort of 
 courier-servant waited there. He opened the 
 door of Lisa's apartment — there was a strong 
 smell of patchouli pervading it. O, prodigy ! 
 Opposite Lisa, reclining in her usual corner,
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 125 
 
 her face speaking awful tragedies, sat upright 
 in her chair an old lady in elegant morning 
 costume ; her hair straining up to meet the 
 high head-dress that had been fashionable 
 twenty years before, her eyebrows arching, 
 
 her slim foot pointing it was his Aunt 
 
 Brigitta, looking like a point of exclamation 
 before her tragic hostess. Heavens ! what 
 could the two women have been saying to 
 each other, Josquin thought, hardly able to 
 keep himself from exploding, for all his be- 
 wilderment of the last few minutes ; but he 
 bowed low, not forgetting manners, and said, 
 * My aunt ! this is a surprise.' 
 
 ' Do 1 speak to my nephew ? ' the old 
 lady said, rising with an alacrity which spoke 
 her intense relief at the interruption of her 
 tete-a-ttte. * This my naughty, naughty 
 nephew ? ' and she astonished Josquin by 
 embracing him playfully on the cheek. 
 
 But this playfulness was In truth a sort
 
 126 ALCESTIS 
 
 of armour, that the poor lady buckled on in 
 the embarrassing situation In which she 
 was placed. She had come, as the reader 
 knows, expecting from Cecile's letter to find 
 the prodigal nephew repentant in a garret, 
 ready in the hour of poverty to return to the 
 right paths. The porter, acting upon this 
 sentiment, had already managed to secure his 
 rent Immediately ; but already the good lady 
 had begun to be undeceived. Lisa had so 
 completely taken away her breath, that she 
 was greatly relieved by Josquln's appearance 
 and manner ; and having come against the 
 prejudice of her sister, she wished not to be 
 triumphed over by them, but to return with 
 the scapegrace, whatever his frame of mind. 
 She therefore began in a conciliating way : 
 
 * I do not wonder, my nephew, that you 
 are surprised to see me. Eleven years you 
 have let pass without giving your family any 
 encouragement to pity you ; but I have
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 127 
 
 waited patiently, you see, and am here at the 
 hour of your sore need.' 
 
 * My good aunt, I have just heard of your 
 generosity ; but I assure you that I stand in 
 no need. ... I must repay you when . . .' 
 
 'No, no ; a little bird told me of your 
 wants, and on my way from the baths of 
 Teplitz I determined to come and see for 
 myself — indeed, Josquin, all the ladies seem 
 to raffoler of you. Cecile von Lichtenberg is 
 full of your misfortunes ; and this lady here, 
 from whom I came to hear about you . . .' 
 
 Josquin's aunt drew herself up con- 
 centrated and frigid as she turned to Lisa. 
 With one glance at the latter, he determined 
 to carry off his aunt. Lisa was pale and 
 terrible, and he could bear this conversation 
 no longer in her presence. 
 
 * Will you not let me conduct you to my 
 room, my aunt ? We shall talk better there 
 than here ; pray take my arm.'
 
 128 ALCESTIS 
 
 The old lady seemed nothing loth to 
 depart, and Josquin handed her down with 
 a politeness worthy of some courtly an- 
 cestor. Between the dismay at his heart, and 
 this pyramid of millinery on his arm, and 
 the slippery stairs, the manoeuvre did him 
 credit, especially as the curiosity of the 
 inhabitants added to his perplexities. Old 
 Ida the singer, brushing her only evening silk 
 on the landing behind her door, peeped out 
 with a leer ; while Anchio, the young painter, 
 who was coming upstairs with a frothing pot 
 of beer for his model's lunch, called her on to 
 the landing to see one of Dorioz's aristocratic 
 relations. Josquin could feel the poor lady's 
 thin arm tremble as she swept up her skirts, 
 while passing the grinning lady in the turban 
 of a Sybil. 
 
 ' My good aunt, how unfortunate that I 
 should have nothing prepared for you. . . . 
 Mind the step before the door. . . . Ah ! I
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 129 
 
 warned you too late. I hope your train has 
 not suffered. Get out, you impudent Tool ! ' 
 This Josquin exclaimed to the wag Anchio, 
 who slyly pinched his leg as he turned the 
 corner of the staircase. 
 
 ' Do you not think it were better, my 
 aunt, for us to have our conversation at your 
 house at once ? I fear my apartment is not 
 ready for a visitor. Let me put you into your 
 coach.' 
 
 Poor Fraulein von Gasparein was only too 
 thankful to enter her respectable coach ; and 
 having descended the stairs again, jumped in 
 as if she had been a girl of seventeen. 
 
 ' Will you wait one moment till I follow 
 you ? ' Josquin said ; and he dashed up to his 
 own room, and looked at himself in the 
 glass. His jabot was soiled ; he hastily 
 put on another. He changed his coat, and 
 adjusted his pigtail. ' I will refuse all charity, 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 I30 ALCESTIS 
 
 and must not look the pauper I am,' he said 
 to himself. ' Oh, Cecile ! Ceclle ! this too, 
 then, you have not spared me ! ' 
 
 Then he sprang down again without 
 heeding old Ida, who stood mysteriously 
 beckoning him in to ask questions ; and 
 jumped into the coach, which rolled out of 
 the Kloster-haus yard. 
 
 Lisa heard it go with relief as she sat on, 
 with her head sunk on her bosom, the look 
 of anger and fear only intensified on her face, 
 the sight of which had made Josquin carry 
 off his Aunt in order to spare her any further 
 strain. This was what had taken place. That 
 morning Regenfurth had been laid up with a 
 cold, and Lisa was preparing warm drinks, 
 and taking care of her with the overpowering 
 zeal which she showed when doing anything 
 for those she loved, when Count von Plauen 
 had come. It was the hour when she usually 
 saw people on business from the theatre.
 
 AUNT BRIG ITT A TO THE RESCUE 131 
 
 almost the only time that he could get 
 admitted ; to find her alone, therefore, was 
 an agreeable surprise. This man of the 
 world felt strangely at his ease by Lisa's 
 peaceful little fireside. At the theatre, when 
 she sang, she seemed to have a magnetic 
 power for him ; but when he came to find the 
 simple and grave, almost child-like woman, in 
 her own home, her beauty fascinated him 
 even more ; and he was all the more jealous 
 of the feeling, because he knew it was the best 
 he had ever known. He shut his eyes to 
 her coldness, as he now sat on, waiting only 
 a word from her to declare all his passion to 
 her. 
 
 An hour had passed thus, and Lisa had 
 already become weary with the effort of 
 keeping the Hof-Intendant at his usual 
 distance — it was always her hope that she 
 should be able to prevent him from coming 
 to any formal declaration — when the entrance 
 
 K 2
 
 132 ALCESTIS 
 
 of Fraulein von Gasparein interrupted their 
 tete-a-tete. Von Plauen, mortified at Lisas 
 manner to him, had seemed determined to 
 wait her departure. The old lady entered 
 unconsciously upon the pair, shedding a 
 delicate perfume all around her as she sat 
 down, posing herself to impress the dis- 
 tinguished stranger with the idea of the 
 benevolence and condescension which had 
 brought her to visit the young singer, and 
 of her own distinction and respectability. 
 
 ' Could the Fraulein Vaara give her par- 
 ticulars about her nephew Josquin Dorioz, 
 whom she believed to be in distressing circum- 
 stances, owing to his own wilful folly ? She 
 understood that the Fraulein had seen him 
 continually since he first came to Dresden, 
 and was indeed his greatest friend.' 
 
 Lisa did not see von Plauen's face 
 darken at these words. She did not imme- 
 diately calculate the danger there was in
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE ; 133 
 
 them for Josquin ; she only sat gazing at his 
 aunt, wondering what his horror would be 
 at her coming, and how she could best spare 
 him her importunity. Meanwhile the poor 
 lady's curiosity began to be somewhat 
 tempered by alarm as she found herself 
 seated opposite the girl whose great eyes 
 looked out upon her from under their stormy 
 brows, while she received her propos with an 
 awful silence. Her questions became more 
 and more incoherent. What was the time 
 of day that she was most likely to find her 
 nephew ? Might he not at that moment be 
 seeking his aunts in the town '^. Was it not 
 true, then, that he longed to have an oppor- 
 tunity of returning to his family ? He had 
 found out his folly in following the musical pro- 
 fession ? He was ruined and despairing ? 
 
 When in reply to all these questions Lisa 
 more and more warmly assured the aunt 
 that her nephew was never more absorbed in
 
 134 ALCESTIS 
 
 his profession, never less anxious to be 
 disturbed in it ; that he was always at home 
 now, working, when he was not busy at his 
 profession, as at that moment with the Capell- 
 meister ; that his uneasy circumstances were 
 not likely to last — with every fresh disap- 
 pointing answer Fraulein von Gasparein got 
 more and more excited. 
 
 * What, was this the truth ? Then she had 
 misplaced her charity. She repented her 
 generosity in having paid Josquin's rent ; the 
 porter should keep the money for himself. 
 She should have nothing more to do with 
 her abandoned nephew.' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' said Lisa, forgetting all caution ; 
 * help him with your world's good ; he has 
 little of that ; but do not expect him to give 
 up his profession for it. If you knew how 
 hard he works, what a life of self-sacrifice he 
 has led, you would wish to help him ; you 
 would have your reward in the performance 
 
 J
 
 AUNT BRIG ITT A TO THE RESCUE 135 
 
 of a duty. He has been a sort of brother to 
 me ; his success is very dear to me ! ' 
 
 * Brother, indeed ! ' the old lady exclaimed^ 
 losing all her composure. ' Ah, I cannot be 
 the dupe of your assurances. I see it all now ; 
 the falsehood of them, the truth of Cecile's 
 appeal. It is yoUy young lady, who have 
 kept our nephew from us all these years ; it 
 is now because he is entangled in your 
 meshes that he does not come to seek us ; 
 and though starving and ready to leave you, 
 he yet is kept back by your machinations ! 
 Ah, indeed, this devotion to his profes- 
 sion ; now it is clear what it means ! Oh 
 Sir ! ' she said, turning with the air of making 
 a pathetic appeal to von Plauen, ' imagine 
 my distress and that of my distinguished 
 family. We have a dear nephew, who for 
 years has given us no sign ; has left an 
 honourable career for the life of a mere 
 bohemian. We had found it useless, as long
 
 136 ALCESTIS 
 
 as he was successful, to try and bring him 
 back to us. Now that he has brought himself 
 to destitution by his dissipation, I believe him 
 to be willing to throw himself upon us. I 
 fly to his aid ; this lady tells me that he is 
 prosperous, that he is still wedded to his pro- 
 fession, what am I to infer ? . . . can you 
 advise me ? ' 
 
 * My good lady,' von Plauen said, rising, 
 quite pale, but with a cruel smile on his lips, 
 ' my advice to you is to give help of a 
 substantial kind to your nephew, while you 
 can, if you do not want him to perish with 
 hunger or to live on the kindness of those 
 whom he is fortunate enough to number 
 among his friends. ... I have good reason 
 for telling you that I do not think it probable 
 that he will ever be in a better position than 
 he is now, though I believe, while throwing 
 himself on your bounty, he yet hopes to 
 achieve success in his profession.'
 
 AUNT BRIGITTA TO THE RESCUE 137 
 
 Then he departed, meeting the unlucky 
 Josquin, as we have seen, upon the staircase ; 
 and before Lisa and Fraulein von Gasparein 
 had time to exchange another word, the 
 young man had come in.
 
 138 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GOOD-BYE. 
 
 So Josquin had guessed rightly the meaning 
 of von Plauen's sudden movement of passion 
 towards him that morning, and as he drove 
 away by the side of his aunt he had gloomy 
 reflections enough to make him absent, while 
 the lady talked unconscious of his abstraction. 
 Fraulein von Gasparein was romantic and 
 vague. She was also very much afraid of her 
 elder sister; and though she felt that she 
 ought to be sounding the depths of her 
 nephew's mind with the phrases she had 
 made beforehand, calculated to impress his 
 softened heart, she could only find expressions
 
 A GOOD-BYE 139 
 
 of astonishment at the unconventional manner 
 and appearance of his chosen friend. ' My 
 poor boy ! your father, I know, always had a 
 predilection for singers — even dancers, but 
 this woman, with \i^x farouche air, her strange 
 figure, absolument sans cerceaul she said, 
 sorrowfully shaking her head, * makes me 
 think that even in your tastes for the fair sex 
 you young men of the present are sadly 
 degenerate/ 
 
 Josquin thought it wise to turn the con- 
 versation to the baths of Saxony, which his 
 aunts had been visiting, and soon they drove 
 up to the door of the Gasthaus. As he 
 followed her up the steps, he cursed his folly 
 for having run into this purgatory. But he 
 was under a debt of gratitude for his paid 
 rent. It was better to be polite for half an 
 hour, and have done. His aunt said they re- 
 turned to Vienna in a fortnight. 
 
 But within that time they would assist at
 
 I40 ALCESTIS 
 
 Cecile's wedding. Josquin hardly realised to 
 himself how he longed to have news of her. 
 
 Just before entering the house Aunt 
 Brigitta paused. She looked terribly per- 
 plexed. ' My dear young man, you are sorry 
 not to have been with us all this while ? You 
 will try to please my sisters ? They are less 
 indulgent than I . . . . But come, come, you 
 are charming.' She then pulled Josquin 
 winningly by the sleeve, and they entered 
 the apartment the ladies occupied. 
 
 It was a white panelled room, the ceiling 
 heavily decorated with arabesques. Between 
 the long dreary windows hung a high green- 
 coloured glass. The tall candlesticks, ready 
 on the table, looked conscious of being the 
 best in the house ; even the snuffers had that 
 air of respectability that the properties of the 
 best rooms in a family inn always possess. 
 In the centre of the polished oaken floor sat 
 Josquin's married aunt and Crescentia, in
 
 A GOOD-BYE 141 
 
 their usual afternoon composure. The latter 
 looked just a little more faded. That was the 
 only change he could see, and the pervading 
 smell of mardchale and the long piece of work 
 of which each lady held an end in her 
 tambour frame, brought a tired remembrance 
 to his brain of fusty sprigs, that had begun to 
 shoot in green and yellow floss silk in the 
 Vienna drawing-room ten years before. 
 Outside, the sun was shining in the gardens. 
 There were divine pictures for who would 
 look at them ; music for who would listen ; 
 life was progressing; people thinking new 
 things. Here the afternoon seemed to be shut 
 out — life to have stopped. Dingy fustiness, 
 complacency, and dullness — these things 
 made Josquin shiver. 
 
 The ladies scanned their nephew with 
 great surprise. What could be the idea 
 formed in their mind of his career during the 
 past ten years ? I think, if you had taken
 
 142 ALCESTIS 
 
 away the mysterious horror of the unknown 
 that veiled his profession, you would have 
 found that It ranked with Ideas of pick- 
 pockets, hair-dressers, and atheists. They 
 had disapproved of Brigltta's rash project of 
 seeking out herself the prodigal ; but now 
 that they saw her successfully bring him back 
 as they thought, to throw himself at their 
 feet, they were quite thrown out of their count 
 by the penitent s graceful mien, and unsubdued 
 manner. Agathe found his easy politeness 
 quite out of place, but Crescentia glowed 
 with a furtive pleasure at having her fingers 
 kissed by this very remarkable-looking young 
 man ; and Brigltta, restored after the vexa- 
 tions of the Klosterhaus episode, and more 
 emboldened, said to herself, while she watched 
 him making his bows, ' But he is quite dis- 
 tinguished, he has quite the del air ; ' and 
 altogether was radiant at the success of her 
 own persuasive powers. The young musi-
 
 A GOOD-BYE 143 
 
 cian stood up in the midst of this group, 
 turning from one to the other with his quick 
 restless movements, to answer their ques- 
 tions. 
 
 ' Yes, he had spent some months in 
 Vienna, at the time they were away. He 
 came back to Dresden because he found he 
 worked best there. He had always lived in 
 the same house ; it suited his means. He was 
 not very well off, but looked for better days 
 coming. His time was very much occupied ; 
 four times a week he played in the orchestra.' 
 Here the ladies lifted their eyes to the 
 ceiling, but proceeded severely with their in- 
 terrogatory. And Josquin took delight in 
 describing his artist's life to them ; how he 
 hoped to have new popular concerts in the 
 summer ; how he hoped to make a regular 
 income by giving lessons and composing. His 
 greatest friend, he said, was the young singer 
 Lisa Vaara ; his greatest delight his violin,
 
 144 ALCESTIS 
 
 which brought him a Httle money and many- 
 friends. Josquin answered all with perfect 
 politeness ; but his aunt Agathe at last left 
 the questioning to be carried on by Crescen- 
 tia, and, after sitting silent some minutes, 
 spoke sternly ; 
 
 * Brigitta, this is not the time for 
 such trifling ; you have brought our 
 nephew back to us on false pretences. The 
 question is now whether Alexander, in seek- 
 ing our help, wishes to conform his life to 
 right ideas, or whether he comes to throw 
 himself upon us, taking advantage of your 
 weak kindness ? We have not been able to see 
 him all these years because of the profession 
 he has chosen ; the question now is whether he 
 is prepared to change it ? If unsatisfactorily 
 answered, he forfeits all claim on our notice.' 
 
 * But, my dear, we must try indulgence. We 
 must see what a little kindness . . .' Brigitta 
 began feebly; but Josquin broke in with :
 
 A GOOD-BYE 145 
 
 * Madam, I ask for no indulgerice ; I 
 want no help. There has been some 
 mistake, and you are romancing, my good 
 aunt. Charles will have told you long ago 
 how little idea I have of conforming my life 
 to your notions. When I was in Vienna, on 
 your own ground, I could not have come in 
 this way to you ; but here I am at home, and 
 you are strangers, and I offer you my services. 
 I could not let my aunt return alone, after 
 kindly taking the trouble of coming to see 
 me. In the world of my own choosing, 
 madam, I have not unlearnt good manners, 
 and I trust that you will never find me 
 wanting. I am here to wait upon you, but 
 not to ask any favour.' 
 
 Agathe only gazed sternly at the poor 
 offending Brigitta during this speech. Cres- 
 centia began to weep ; but the conciliating 
 aunt still tried to make the best of the situa 
 tion, ready to argue that a little of her 
 
 VOL. II. L
 
 146 ALCESTIS 
 
 society might wean Josquin from the evil 
 influences of Lisa. 
 
 * It was Cecile von Lichtenberg who de- 
 ceived us about him, you know, Agathe. We 
 thought his health was broken, his fortunes 
 shattered ; but we will allow him to be useful 
 to us. To-morrow we wish to visit the 
 Porcelain Gallery ; he might accompany us.' 
 
 *Yes, he will make our stay agreeable/ 
 said Crescentia brightening. ' The day after 
 we might visit the Tame Tortoises ; after 
 that . . .' 
 
 The light of the afternoon was getting 
 greyer. The lines of the three faces bent 
 upon him seemed to deepen. ' Heavens ! ' 
 when will this sickening comedy be over ? ' 
 Josquin exclaimed inwardly in despair, when, 
 through the door, suddenly he caught the 
 sound of a voice speaking in the vestibule — 
 high treble music that filled his soul with 
 trouble — and in another minute Cecile
 
 A GOOD-BYE 147 
 
 entered, radiant in a hat and cloak carelessly 
 thrown on ; her voice and laugh coming 
 showering into the room before her — it was a 
 way she had when she was happy. 
 
 ' My aunts, I have come for you all — all 
 three, and will hear of no excuses. How are 
 you all } ' then, suddenly perceiving Josquin, 
 she drew in, but seemed to try and speak 
 naturally. * Ah, M. Dorioz, I heard that you 
 were ill ; how are you ? . . . So, my aunts, 
 you have not lost much time in finding him 
 out.' It seemed to Josquin that while she 
 spoke lightly her eyes fell upon him with 
 pity, and the beautiful lips trembled. The 
 aunts sat looking on very severely, for it 
 was C6cile who had brought them into the 
 embarrassing position with their nephew ; 
 but she continued : ' I come from my uncle 
 with invitations for the ball at the Briihl 
 palace to-night. He says I am to take no 
 excuses. The carriage is at the door, if you 
 
 L 2
 
 148 ALCESTIS 
 
 have any shopping to do, any toilettes to get, 
 I can take you wherever you Hke ; there is 
 plenty of time.' 
 
 This proposal put the ladies into such a 
 flutter of excitement, that nothing else could 
 be thought of at the moment. There was so 
 much to be said, however, before the offer 
 was accepted ; and, while they discussed the 
 question in all its bearings, and Cecile argued 
 and persuaded, and talked about horses 
 waiting, best shops for purchasing, engage- 
 ments for Monday, engagements for Sunday, 
 with the three hard faces bent round her, 
 Josquin contemplated her, and his heart was 
 filled with bitterness. The women amongst 
 whom she stood, beautiful and noble, seemed 
 to him types of the narrow, poor life, to which 
 hitherto he could never believe she really 
 belonged ; there was a terrible likeness to be 
 traced between the features of the debonnaire 
 and egotistical Brigitta, and those of her niece
 
 A GOOD-BYE 149 
 
 — he seemed to see Cecile old, hard, absorbed 
 in this Hfe which she had chosen, which robbed 
 her of hfe, robbed him of all sweetness in 
 regretting — these were the dregs of his cup. 
 
 He was roused by the ladies rising to 
 prepare for their drive. It seemed a happy 
 opportunity for departing hastily, for they 
 were far too much pre-occupied to think of 
 making any farther appointment ; and Josquin 
 took leave, merely bowing to Cecile, to whom 
 he had not said a word. But he had not 
 left the stairs of the house when he paused : 
 an overwhelming emotion made him stop. 
 An inexpressible longing came over him to 
 say one word to Cecile in farewell, this last 
 time he should ever see her as Cecile von 
 Lichtenberg. She had done him a great 
 wrong, only a minute ago his eyes had been 
 opened to see her without illusion, but he 
 felt that that could not be the end. As he 
 had left the room, the ladies had been filing
 
 I50 ALCESTIS 
 
 out of It — she would be alone. In a moment 
 he dashed up the stairs, and telling the 
 servant at the door that he had left his hat, 
 he re-entered the room where Cecile waited 
 alone. He went and stood up before her. 
 He saw that she was frightened and troubled 
 by his manner, and his coming. ' Only for a 
 moment, Cecile, have I come to trouble you,' 
 he said. ' Do you know that we have parted 
 for ever, and that we have not said good- 
 bye?' 
 
 ' Auf wiedersehn ! ' she whispered, pale 
 and moved, looking up almost imploringly to 
 him. ' Go, go, quickly, auf wiedersehn ! ' 
 
 'No, It Is good-bye, and I miist speak 
 what Is In my heart.' 
 
 ' Oh, why do you choose this moment ? 
 Why are you so stern ? They told me that 
 you were 111, poor ... I wanted to help 
 you. . . .' 
 
 He seized both her hands, and held them
 
 A GOOD-BYE 151 
 
 while he spoke. * Oh, Cecile, I have read 
 pity in your eyes ; I have seen that you 
 think to give me pity instead of love, and see ! 
 I lonely, poor, and shut out, have found the 
 same in my heart for you. Yes, when you 
 did not know it, I watched you. I have seen 
 you smiling at the opera, I have seen you go 
 by laughing — they all tell me you are happy ; 
 and in your eyes I read your scorn of all 
 that I imagined once you needed for happi- 
 ness ; but I know you yet better than all 
 others. I see you as you really are — in all 
 your pride and beauty I see you poor and 
 cold, my love — colder, more unhappy than 
 I . . . even than I,' and the tears would 
 come, and his voice was choked, so sudden 
 and uncontrollable was his emotion. He 
 felt that he was not master of himself. All 
 his old tenderness for the woman whose 
 hands he held came back to him, and she
 
 152 ALCESTIS 
 
 too, for the moment, seemed unable to resist 
 him. 
 
 * Ah, Josquin, you must forget — you must 
 think it all a part of the dream. I am not 
 really fitted for you. How could I have 
 entered your life ? I should only have 
 impeded you ! ' 
 
 ' No, Cecile, have I not confessed to you 
 my love in moments when I have looked into 
 your soul ? I saw nothing there that would 
 impede me, as you say. But that is all past. 
 Only, now I pray you for one thing : in look- 
 ing back on what has been, to remember 
 that with me you were your real self— the 
 self that you have been false to ; oh, Cecile, 
 be true to yourself, to me, in remembering.' 
 
 Then he went impetuously as he had 
 come, and a minute after the three ladies 
 entered prepared for their drive, and found 
 C6cile sitting as they had left her. 
 
 And not till late in the evening did
 
 A GOOD-BYE 153 
 
 Josquin return to the Klosterhaus, for in his 
 uncontrollable excitement he felt that he 
 could not come again to Lisa ; and he sought 
 the quiet avenues of the public gardens, and 
 paced up and down, impelled by his feverish 
 mood. It was not inspired wholly by his 
 meeting with Cecile, or his anger against von 
 Plauen after his painful meeting ; it was an 
 undefined impatience with life, appearing to 
 him then in all its strange unfulfilment ; 
 life with its infinite hopes held out to 
 every new soul, and its dull limits ; its con- 
 fused opportunities teaching to each its cruel 
 contradiction. Then there came before him 
 too that artificial life of the world, undoing 
 what nature would do, causing half the con- 
 tradiction. 
 
 Beethoven talks about the * world's 
 rabble,' in his outpourings to her for whom, 
 in the world s biographies, a tender place is 
 reserved — Bettine who consoled Beethoven ;
 
 154 ALCESTIS 
 
 and every artist will understand Josquin s in- 
 tolerance — for him, the world's rabble is the 
 one outside his art. 
 
 Not till he returned home did Josquin 
 recall the pleasantness of the first part of the 
 day, and that he had not yet told Lisa of the 
 letter from Gluck ; but now he felt it to be 
 impossible. He could only guess from von 
 Plauen s anger and Lisa's look, that some 
 new offence had been given him ; and if the 
 Hof-intendant were offended, of what use 
 would it be for her to know that Gluck had 
 praised his music ? 
 
 He was right in guessing that Lisa also 
 would rather be alone that evening. She too 
 had been spending hours of misery ; but the 
 one conclusion she could bring to her 
 comfort was, that Josquin must never know 
 anything of her dread about von Plauen, and 
 that from henceforth she must make up her 
 mind to their paths being better separated.
 
 ^5S 
 
 CHAPTER IV- 
 
 CHECK ! 
 
 After this, there followed a fortnight of 
 suspense ; for the opera on which concentrated 
 now Josquin's hopes was in the hands of the 
 Capellmeister to present to the Intendant, 
 and there was nothing to be done but to 
 await their answer. It was a time of supreme 
 bitterness. Heine has said, ' He who loves 
 unhappily for the first time is a god ; ' and 
 Josquin had tasted of this divine unhappiness 
 when strung up to compose his opera he had 
 felt the poetical side of pain. Now, he was 
 left with all that belongs to the gloomy side 
 of the artist's life ; all the things that bring
 
 156 ALCESTIS 
 
 life down to its harshest resolution. The 
 angel of consoling inspirations seemed to 
 have fled ; he had no courage left to begin 
 new work ; and when thus unoccupied the 
 thought of Cecile would ever come back to 
 him, accompanied by that vision of leanness 
 and barrenness which had Impressed itself 
 on him during his visit to his aunts, which 
 chilled belief, robbed life of all Its sweetness. 
 Every morning brought him nearer to hear- 
 ing the fate of his opera ; every morning to 
 Cdcile's marriage bells. 
 
 Lisa told him not a word of her Interview 
 with von Plauen, nor did he let her know 
 of their encounter on the staircase after it ; 
 but each knew the other's dread ; and Lisa 
 dared not buoy up his hopes. The Capell- 
 meister was the most cheerful, and Josquin 
 sought him often; Faustina was full of 
 sympathy ; and not only she, but other 
 humble friends observed him with affectionate
 
 CHECK! 157 
 
 concern. One day that he entered his 
 restaurant, contrary to his usual habit, at its 
 most crowded dinner-time, the remarks that 
 were made upon his appearance did not 
 escape him ; many of his professional ac- 
 quaintances were seated at the small tables, 
 but he went to one at the end of the room 
 alone. Here, however, he did not escape the 
 open gaze of Colophonius, Bleikopf and the 
 young Swiss flute-player Totli, who, between 
 cheerful friendliness and voracity were making 
 their meal hideous. 
 
 * Good Gad ! look at Dorioz ! what a 
 scarecrow ! ' said Colophonius the violoncellist. 
 
 * By Jove, it spoils one's appetite to look 
 at him ! ' said Bleikopf. 
 
 ' Oh, that is what we come to when we 
 live only with the companionship of tragedy 
 queens. They say,' Colophonius went on, 
 * that the Vaara has the very devil of a temper 
 at times, and he calls her his sister.'
 
 158 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' I can well believe in that temper,' said 
 Totli, feebly ; ' at the last rehearsal my flute 
 was a little sharp, and she glowered upon me 
 like a tiger.' 
 
 At the opposite end of the room where 
 the company was more distinguished, Anchio 
 Schmidt was dining with Ferrimpetto, first 
 trombone of the opera, and Peissner who 
 had composed more than one libretto for 
 the Sassone himself. Here the ^^ fumes of 
 tobacco v/ere less thick, and each table had 
 its bottle with long neck. Anchio had that 
 very evening been treating his friend to 
 a description of Josquin Dorioz' progress 
 down the staircase of his house, with his 
 fashionable aunt on his arm, when our hero 
 appeared. 
 
 ' This high life does not seem to agree 
 with him, poor devil,' said Peissner, ob- 
 serving Josquin drop wearily into his seat, 
 and order his soup and common bottle of
 
 CHECK! 159 
 
 wine. ' No, this won't do/ said the painter ; 
 ' I have never known Dorioz proud for all his 
 aristocratic acquaintance; he must be very 
 much down not to want to be cheered by us. 
 We never see his face now, and he used to be 
 such a capital dog at a kneip. Let's ask him 
 to join us now — ' 
 
 But Ferrimpetto, the stout man, prevented 
 him and looked serious. ' Poor fellow, he 
 wants rest, don't worry him. I tell you what ; 
 it is his play as well as his work that is wear- 
 ing him out. His work is in one world, his 
 play in a quite other ; and it is killing work 
 to keep pace with both. I knew the struggle 
 once when Mrs. Ferrimpetto came to the 
 rescue — Ah ! what do I not owe that aneel ! 
 
 o 
 
 This poor boy we shan't have long amongst 
 us,' and leaning over the table, he said : 
 'The other day I observed him in the 
 orchestra put his handkerchief to his mouth 
 after coughing, and as he drew it away I
 
 i6o ALCESTIS 
 
 watched him. I did not see what he saw — 
 but only a sudden paleness on his face, as if 
 he had received the touch of a certain cold, 
 skin and bone gentleman on his shoulder.' 
 Ferrimpetto was a stout bass, much given 
 to trope and metaphor, but after speaking he 
 cleared his throat energetically and then 
 ordered the girl who waited on them to 
 refill and exchange the decanter of the 
 gentleman who dined alone with wine of a 
 superior bottle. 
 
 The girl obeyed with a pleasant smile, 
 and when Josquin found out the change, she 
 pretended ignorance ; but after the three 
 men had gone out, she told him with such 
 kindly sympathy in her blue eyes, that his 
 heart felt soft, and he would have liked to 
 press the child's brown hand to his lips, and 
 tell her some of his heart's heaviness. He 
 had overheard some of Ferrimpetto's words. 
 * All composers now-a-days spit blood,'
 
 CHECK! i6i 
 
 Anchio had said, but the other had shaken 
 his head. 
 
 Was that to be then the end of all his 
 disappointments, his dreads, his ecstatic 
 hopes ? Josquin asked as he left the cafe, 
 but he felt a strange quiet and unconcern. 
 The soft air of the early spring, the pleasant 
 lengthening light, the good wine he had 
 drunk, made his blood run more kindly than 
 it had done all day; and, as with pulses 
 tranquillised he walked slowly towards home, 
 he began recalling books that he had read, 
 that had before made him wonder about 
 death, and curiously enough he recalled 
 the German translation of Phaedo, long 
 ago given him by Paradies at the Villa, 
 though he had not thought of it since. He 
 remembered his delight at the expression, the 
 soul is a harmony ; and also his sympathy 
 with the disciples of Socrates when the 
 master smilingly suspects them of fearing 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 1 62 ALCESTIS 
 
 death, lest ' when the soul leaves the body, 
 the wind may rudely blow her, and scatter her 
 away ; and, especially, if a man should happen 
 to die in windy weather, and not when the 
 sky is calm.' Josquin smiled now, and 
 remembered that he too had always felt he 
 should like to die under a calm. 
 
 He looked into the book when he came 
 in. He had once asked Paradies to give it 
 to him since the scholar could read it in the 
 original. The grey-faced secretary had 
 grumbled at parting with it, but had at last 
 written Josquin's name in curling feeble 
 characters in it. The book opened at this 
 passage, faintly marked in pencil : ' In the 
 course of my life I have had intimations that 
 I should make music before I die. The 
 dream came to me sometimes in one form, 
 sometimes in another, but always saying the 
 same words. " Make and cultivate music," 
 said the dream.' Long ago he had put the
 
 CHECK! 163 
 
 little pencil-mark before those words when 
 Paradies had been complaining, and life' had 
 seemed empty at the Villa ; he had longed 
 then to rise above Paradies, to find all happi- 
 ness in working and achieving ; now a great 
 indifference took hold of him, and the 
 peaceful thought of the great life of the old 
 Greek, and of Gluck his master, and his own 
 little life, in however infinitely small a degree, 
 adding to and helping the great harmony of 
 the world. 
 
 He fell asleep, still reading at his window ; 
 then suddenly woke chilled. His thought 
 turned to Ceclle once more, and he was 
 troubled ; and when he lay on his bed, his 
 peace was gone ; he tossed from one wild 
 dream to another — his reading, the words of 
 Ferrimpetto, Ceclle, all mixed in confusion In 
 his brain. At last it seemed to him that he 
 could bear his restlessness no longer. He rose 
 and went out to seek the house where Ceclle 
 
 M 2
 
 i64 ALCESTIS 
 
 lay that night — the last before her marriag-e 
 day. He thought he took his violin and 
 went along the moonlit streets, as on that 
 day when he and Lisa sang the serenade for 
 Faustina. He wanted to sing it to Cecile, 
 but the white and black gables were all so 
 like each other, he could not find the house. 
 He sought Cecile's window in vain, and then 
 he tried to sing and play his serenade and its 
 accompaniment at once. He could not sing, 
 his voice was harsh and hoarse ; his fingers 
 were numb, he could not play. He wept 
 bitterly, and shrieked out at last in horrible 
 discords. Suddenly a figure came behind, 
 and began to put in the bass ; and the 
 serenade and its accompaniment came to him 
 again, and Josquin sang, not daring to turn 
 and see whose was the shadow. He waited 
 till it was over, then he saw th^t it was Death. 
 — the horrible image of the Italian's words.
 
 CHECK! 165 
 
 With a shriek he awoke, and spent out the 
 night in misery. 
 
 The next mornjng the sun rose cloudless 
 on Cecile von Ga9pai=e«^s wedding morning. 
 But what have we to do with it, since she 
 has passed out of our musician's life '^, And 
 what is the wedding to us, with its sunshine, 
 and its organ peals and solemn mass, and beau- 
 tiful bride in the glory of brocade and pearls, 
 stepping down the Hof Kirche steps, at the 
 head of the procession which has long since 
 tripped into Hades ? We can think only of 
 him who sits still in his lonely room, too 
 miserable to rise up : a few only wondered 
 not to see him there, and he had indeed in- 
 tended to be present. He had felt that it 
 would be best for him to go, that he could 
 not be made more unhappy than he was ; and 
 then, that very morning, another blow had 
 fallen, and he now lay on his bed bewildered, 
 stunned, vacantly staring above. By his side
 
 1 66 ALCESTIS 
 
 lay the large MS. score, returned by the 
 Direction of the Opera ; and there too a letter 
 — it was in so delicate a hand-writing, and on 
 such dainty paper that it was difficult for 
 Josquin, before he opened it, to be prepared 
 for its contents. It was from Faustina, who 
 wrote in a passion. Hasse never touched 
 pen and ink. The Capellmeister had had 
 the score returned him with excuses from the 
 Sur-intendant of the Opera. He had sent 
 it, and pressed It again without telling 
 Josquin, finding the excuses unreasonable ; 
 it had again come back with a final and 
 arbitrary refusal. It was clear, Faustina 
 wrote, that von Plauen was at the bottom 
 of it, that he hated her husband, and 
 attacked him through his pupil's works ; 
 Josquin must leave Dresden — they must all 
 go. Would he not come at once to her, that 
 she might show him how she loved and ap- 
 preciated him — all the more for the cruelty 
 of others ?
 
 CHECKS 167 
 
 When Josquin tried to get up at once and 
 answer this, he could find nothing, everything 
 in his room seemed to have changed its place. 
 His head was dizzy, and he found it useless 
 to attempt to walk across the room. At last, 
 with failing sight, he traced a few lines : 
 
 * Dear Meisterin, — A sight of you would 
 indeed be good for these sore eyes this 
 morning, but I must put off coming ... a 
 cold ... a bad night . . . something has 
 made me faint and weak. This is a cruel 
 blow, but we must wait. In the course of my 
 life I have always had intimations that I 
 should make music before I die . . . Josquin.' 
 
 When Faustina received this letter, the 
 tears came into her eyes ; she questioned the 
 porter s wife who brought it, and when the 
 woman declared that she believed M. Dorioz 
 to be very ill, though he had said that he 
 wanted nothing, the angelic lady said she
 
 1 68 ALCESTIS 
 
 must go at once ; she called for her shawl, 
 her chair, her small medicine chest — and soon 
 after arrived at the Klosterhaus. It was the 
 hour when even the first floor s scales were 
 hushed by the hour of dinner ; its steam 
 arose from the inhabitants' kitchen mingled 
 with the mould of the court-yard garden, 
 and the noseless statue seemed to melt in 
 the warm noon sunshine when the once 
 adored Faustina Hasse came up the worn 
 steps for the first time. Some time ago, 
 another lady had also ascended them think- 
 ing to show compassion to the young man 
 of the second floor ; but how different had 
 been the reception given her by the inhabi- 
 tants. Faustina never did anything alone, 
 it was her peculiar gift to enlist sympathy, 
 not only with herself but with the people in 
 whom she was interested. And now the 
 porter was able to pour out to his will, about 
 his interesting lodger, and Herr Oput of the
 
 CHECK! 169 
 
 Institute, who was passing out, was seized 
 and made to tell how he had heard the 
 young man's cry in the night ; and Anchio 
 himself coming down to see what was going 
 on, found himself politely offering his arm to 
 escort the old lady up the stairs. They 
 ascended to Josquin's room in a little proces- 
 sion, but at the door she thanked them all 
 and entered alone. The sight of the room 
 touched her, its poor furniture, its small 
 treasure of books and music, its dressing- 
 table and glass that might have belonged to 
 a dandy dresser in its order and refinement, 
 covered with relics of happy days ; on the bed, 
 where Josquin lay almost unconscious, was 
 the MS. score, and her own note crumpled 
 beside it. Life seemed to be there in a figure 
 with its little vanities and soothing charms, 
 and art, best of all charmers, and sacrifice 
 resolving the mysterious problem of suffering. 
 Faustina went up to the bed, and from
 
 170 ALCESTIS 
 
 that hour took Josquin under her care ; for 
 finding that he was very 111, she had him 
 removed to her own house, and herself gave 
 him the best nursing through the fever that 
 had attacked him. Dr. Ivanhoff too worked 
 to save him, and for days Faustina watched. 
 As she held the young fingers which had 
 often given her such delight, and listened to 
 his wanderings, her heart went out to him, 
 for she understood all his life. And when 
 at last her care had brought him through, 
 and the long hours of convalescence began, 
 she found him so sympathetic that she could 
 not bear to part with him, and obtained from 
 the Capellmeister that she should carry off 
 her patient at once to the place where they 
 intended to spend the summer, while he 
 (Hasse) waited till the opera season was over 
 to follow with Lisa. 
 
 The whole was the scheme of the 
 maornlficent Doctor, who himself had found
 
 CHECK! 171 
 
 for his friends an Enchanted Island far 
 away from the scenes of their now dis- 
 cordant life, where his patient would get 
 health and Faustina and her husband rest 
 through the summer months. Travelling 
 along in that magic travelling-carriage of 
 his through the pine-covered mountains of 
 Bohemia, he had first come upon the retreat 
 he obtained for them — an island castle rising 
 out of an emerald lake deeply embosomed 
 in the mournful green of pines ; such a feast 
 of reposeful colour to the eye, such a dream 
 of romance to the imagination, that when he 
 described it to Faustina, and told her that 
 through the kindness of an august friend the 
 castle was at her disposal, she accepted 
 without asking her husband, and left the work 
 of persuading him to follow her to Lisa. 
 
 And so Josquin, coming back to life, to 
 realise disappointment and failure, to find 
 one fair page of ^his life ended, yet was
 
 172 ALCESTIS 
 
 greeted by pity, tenderest friendship, and hope 
 that there might be yet an unwritten page 
 for him to fulfil ; and the kind-hearted reader, 
 I fear, will now sympathise with him less as 
 he travels away with his delightful companion 
 and nurse, who makes the long hours short 
 with stories from her wonderful past, and 
 will bestow it on Lisa remaining on lonely 
 in the hot city to fulfil her engagement till the 
 time came for her to follow with her master.
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE doctor's MANCEUVRES. 
 
 It was not Faustina who had thought to in- 
 clude Lisa in the summer scheme. The 
 good Samaritan who had rescued Josquin on 
 the highway, had acted Hke the Levite 
 towards this other poor wounded heart, as 
 we all must sometimes in a world where the 
 strongest sympathies are the most limited. 
 Faustina could not even guess the desolation 
 that Josquin's absence made in Lisa s life, all 
 the bitterness and self-reproach that had been 
 adding to her anxiety for him. But from 
 Ivanhoff had come the suggestion that she 
 should accompany the Capellmeister. He
 
 174 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 had recognised Lisa for his neighbour the 
 first time that he had met her at the foot 
 of the staircase, the day that Faustina 
 summoned him to the Klosterhaus to see 
 Josquin. He was struck by and afterwards 
 could not forget the tall figure, waiting dis- 
 consolate, the longing look he had met In her 
 eyes when she asked for news ; and often 
 after, when Josquin had been removed, he 
 would come out of his way to the Klosterhaus 
 to give the best report he could of her friend 
 to the young singer, and would sit with her, 
 cheering her with the sense of his strength, 
 and large quick sympathy. During these 
 visits Lisa would sometimes, In her loneli- 
 ness, feel Inclined to open all her heart to the 
 Doctor, and tell him of the shadow that fell 
 across her path and Josquin s, from the fatal 
 Inclination she had inspired in the Hof-Inten- 
 dant ; but then she would shrink from any 
 confession, knowing little of the world, and
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 175 
 
 Still trusting that the cause of von Plauen's 
 prejudice against Josquin was unknown to all 
 his friends. The Doctor also remained 
 silent, but she gradually understood that he 
 knew all, and would be prompt to help if 
 called upon. 
 
 At last the day came when he could tell 
 her that Josquin was safe, and then the 
 Doctor looked into her face and said to him- 
 self : ' Of what use is it to come to a woman 
 and tell her that the man she loves is quite 
 well, when but one thing would satisfy her, 
 to hear that he loves and is asking for her ? ' 
 But he only pressed her hand, and told her 
 that they must all go away for the summer 
 months, to recover together from illness and 
 anxiety. 
 
 ' And can you promise him years of 
 strength and health ? What will best save 
 him. Doctor, for the future .-* ' she asked. 
 
 'A little happiness, my dear,' Ivanhoff
 
 176 A LC EST IS 
 
 answered. * That is the best prescription I 
 can give.* 
 
 A cloud came over Lisa s face, and for a 
 moment she was silent ; then she spoke 
 earnestly : ' Doctor, do you think that at 
 Warsaw I should meet with a good recep- 
 tion ? Hasse says that I must put off my 
 journey to England and to Italy for a year 
 or two yet, but I am desirous only of leaving 
 Dresden. I cannot work with the present 
 Intendant ; and can you give me advice about 
 Poland ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I think you would be sure of success 
 at the Polish capital, and I think Hasse must 
 not be afraid of letting you go to London or 
 to Naples ; but for the present, if you talk 
 about leaving Dresden, I shall not give you 
 any advice, and cease to come and see you 
 altogether. When I have brought you such 
 good news of Josquin's recovery, when all is 
 so prospering with you, to talk of leaving us
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 177 
 
 is ungrateful. Josquin, poor boy, he has 
 had success enough here in his playing, and all 
 musicians must go through some disappoint- 
 ment ; and as for the Intendant, leave him 
 to me. I have a little scheme for him, 
 which will put you both out of his head.' 
 All this he said lightly, and then, taking her 
 hands, he added half to himself : ' And you 
 think that happiness for Josquin might mean 
 your leaving Dresden ? Vous etes la plus 
 belle ame que je connaisse.' 
 
 Lisa clung to the idea of the 'scheme' 
 that Ivanhoff had in his mind for von 
 Plauen; but, in truth, the sanguine Doctor 
 had got only a vague notion in his head : 
 marriage was the cure that he saw for the 
 Intendant's passion. The Doctor hoped 
 that he might be distracted, and that once 
 calmed down in new bonds, he would let the 
 affairs of the Opera go their own way as 
 before. He trusted himself also, as von 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 178 ALCESTIS 
 
 Plauen's most ancient adviser and confidant, 
 to be able to bring about some desirable 
 union, which would be the means of restoring 
 peace to his friends at the Klosterhaus. 
 
 He said nothing more, therefore, to Lisa, 
 but determined to speak to von Plauen 
 before he left Dresden. The latter, he 
 knew, had redoubled his attentions in the 
 last month to the Vaara ; for some weeks 
 after his first declaration to her, he had 
 seemed to draw back, mortally offended, but 
 at the end of that short time, he had suddenly 
 appeared to forget what had passed, and con- 
 tinued to show his devotion in the most 
 marked manner. But the complete infatua- 
 tion and blindness of the man was only 
 revealed to the Doctor in the conversation 
 that followed his suggestion of marriage. 
 They were sitting in the verandah outside 
 the Count's house, where he delighted to 
 fancy himself a sort of Eastern prince. They
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 179 
 
 both smoked with large chibouks, brought to 
 them with coffee after dinner ; for though 
 the Russian could scarcely restrain a smile 
 as he mingled the fumes of tobacco with the 
 solemn Intendant, he was far too cosmopolitan 
 not to be able to suit himself at once to his 
 whims. 
 
 Von Plauen began to draw the conver- 
 sation to Lisa to discover from the Doctor 
 where she was going to spend the summer. 
 Ivanhoff, however, avoided any betrayal, and 
 persistently admired the delicate colours and 
 combinations of the Count's furniture. 
 
 * It is all perfect,' he suddenly said : * but 
 it seems to me that your palace is only too 
 complete : your existence the same, mo7i 
 cher. I want to see a little disorder put into 
 it all. What shall I say ? A modern work- 
 basket there among those Chinese cabinets ; 
 the painted toy of a child ; a second will. 
 The perfect unity that I have seen reign in 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o ALCESTIS 
 
 your house for so many years palls upon 
 me.' 
 
 ' And so you are going to join the chorus 
 of my friends who tell me that I ought to 
 marry. And who would you have me marry ? 
 Too much unity ? want of another will ? why, 
 my dear fellow, I have not had a moment's 
 peace with the Colonna since I put up 
 those yellow curtains, because she said they 
 were unbecoming to the complexion ! Want 
 of nature and children's toys ? You reproach 
 me with this, when the other day, because I 
 allowed that minx Lara to come up and 
 to play with my cat, she drew down my finest 
 bit of crackle. I am out of all patience with 
 the women, and you would have me encumber 
 myself with a wife in high heels and a hoop.* 
 
 ' There it is,' said the Doctor ; * man s 
 idea of a wife in these days ; . but you know 
 that is not my meaning. I want to see a 
 bright intelligence here ; a calm mind and a 
 good heart.
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 
 
 ' Oh yes,' he said, ' nion doctetii^ and L 
 should be sent to bed at nine o'clock, and you 
 will attend the whole family through measles 
 and whooping-cough and inoculate all the 
 babies after bringing them into the world.' 
 
 * Pooh ! ' said the Doctor, ' there are many 
 charming women of a suitable age who 
 would make your house perfect ; domestic 
 and agreeable.' 
 
 * Why, my dear Doctor, do you think that 
 if I thought it possible to marry I should 
 have waited till they had grown old and 
 graceless ? at my age shall I hang a wife's 
 family round my neck ? No ! ' he added, 
 after a pause during which both men 
 watched the curling wreaths of smoke with 
 more interest than ever ; ' I see something 
 in what you say ; a man who has spent 
 his life in the search of the beautiful ought 
 to take a partner to crown his efforts, but 
 then it must be the high ideal. I have for
 
 1 82 ALCESTIS 
 
 some time made up my mind that there is 
 but one woman in Dresden whom I could 
 marry without loss of self-respect, or loss of 
 liberty — and that is Elisabetha Vaara.' 
 
 The Doctor could not have been more 
 astonished if von Plauen had told him that 
 it was his intention to retire into a cloister. 
 He had no idea that he could carry his 
 attentions so far, and that he should con- 
 template a love-match were so completely 
 outside his calculations that he could find no 
 answer, and the other went on in his languid 
 way : ' Upon my honour, Doctor, I am in 
 earnest. With her, at least, marriage would 
 not sink me down into a bourgeois calm, or 
 hamper me with new conventionalities of 
 life. I understand her now, but once I feared 
 that for all her pride, she was not more 
 honest than any other woman in Dresden ; 
 a certain young priest who knows her well 
 has told me much of her life and reassured
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 183 
 
 me. There is little separating her from me ; 
 that little shall soon be overcome. I can 
 Imagine her lying here in her queenly fashion. 
 Of course she must give up the stage, and 
 though she Is attached to it, I think there 
 will not be too much difficulty ; I offer her 
 liberty, position, my devotion. Can't you 
 imagine her here and at Teplltz ? . . . Yes, I 
 think I should live a good deal at Teplltz. 
 I shall surround the goddess with all that 
 can make her happy ; my nightingale shall 
 be longed for by the herd here, and there, 
 all to myself, I shall enjoy her wild strains. 
 Nature and Art are combined In her perfectly ; 
 with her I shall possess both. Occasion- 
 ally others of our choice shall be allowed to 
 enter the charmed gardens, such as you, vwn 
 docteur! 
 
 The Doctor thought It wiser not to lose 
 his serenity, but in his inmost heart he hated 
 the Idea that this pedantic dilettante wished 
 to ally to himself the pure soul of Ellsabetha.
 
 1 84 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' Well, you have always taken us by sur- 
 prise, you know ; but I should have thought 
 that in some person of your own position you 
 would have made a better choice.' 
 
 ' It shall never be said that I needed 
 rank to adorn my marriage-sacrifice . . . 
 after all it is a sacrifice.' 
 
 ' But do you think you will ever persuade 
 her to give up the stage ? Do you think 
 you will gain her love ? ' the Doctor said, un- 
 able to bear any longer this display of von 
 Plauen's vanity. 
 
 * My dear fellow, she must be touched by 
 my disinterestedness. I should have no 
 difficulty at all but for one obstacle coming 
 between us. I trusted to have got him out 
 of the way long ago —that ambitious fiddler, 
 Josquin Dorioz.' 
 
 ' Ah, poor fellow ! ' the Doctor exclaimed, 
 with presence of mind. 
 
 ' Yes. he is one of those whimsical music-
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANOEUVRES 185 
 
 writers/ von Plauen went on, ' whom all the 
 women rave about, because of a certain un- 
 healthiness and sensibility. Thinks his 
 music original, because he eschews a few 
 conventional restraints of composition. Well, 
 he must get it performed somewhere else but 
 in Dresden ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, my dear Count, and so you think 
 that he cares for the Vaara, and she for him. 
 Such is life ! Instead of this, which I grant 
 you, would have been the right and proper 
 thing, he has gone hopelessly in love with a 
 young lady far above him in rank, and for 
 Lisa he has the most platonic friendship. 
 Poor fellow ! you have not much to fear 
 from him, I assure you. Count. I have been 
 nursing him through an illness which is the 
 beginning, I fear, of a sad ending.' 
 
 * What did you say about platonic friend- 
 ship ? Ah ! he is just the fellow for that sort 
 of thing. I have seen a good deal of these
 
 i86 ALCESTIS 
 
 affairs, Doctor, and I know them to be the 
 most fatal to all other love interests. Has not 
 he been a good deal with the Capellmeis- 
 terin ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; she nursed him through this 
 illness with a mother s love — only thanks to 
 her care . . .' 
 
 ' Really that Faustina is too eccentric ! ' 
 interrupted von Plauen. ' I believe it is to 
 spite me she takes up the boy. I never saw 
 anything in him. Did you say he was not 
 likely to get over this ? ' 
 
 The Doctor shook his head. ' His 
 mother died of consumption. His own life 
 is against him ; for I do assure you, Count, 
 that all his life is centred in his music, and 
 disappointment will do the work quickly for 
 him ; then, I think you are less likely to win 
 the good graces of Lisa Vaara, whose 
 interest in his work, I grant you, is very great.' 
 
 * Pity the sorrows of an unfortunate art-
 
 THE DOCIOR'S MANOEUVRES 187 
 
 patron and Court Intendant ! Every raving 
 boy, whose first work you refuse, comes and 
 dies on your doorstep ; and the women look 
 askance at you. But my first duty is to the 
 Court. I can't take this work ; it would never 
 answer.' 
 
 ' You are prejudiced. Surely the music 
 has great merit. I do not speak from my 
 own opinion only, I have heard it praised by 
 many good judges. The composer is so well 
 known by his playing.' 
 
 * The worst of it is, that when we have 
 allowed one opera to be brought out, we are 
 certain to have a series.' 
 
 * He must make haste, poor boy,' said the 
 Doctor seriously, * if he wants to finish 
 another work.' Then he said nothing more, 
 for von Plauen seemed to consider. 
 
 This conversation took place quite at the 
 end of the season, for the Doctor was just 
 about, to leave the town. Von Plauen knew
 
 1 88 ALCESTIS 
 
 nothing of Lisa's approaching departure, for 
 Ivanhoff had reconciled it with his conscience 
 to allow him to believe that she was going to 
 remain on in Dresden. He rose to go, on 
 the plea of an engagement ; for he did not 
 wish to say anything further, and thought 
 that he had sufficiently hinted to the Inten- 
 dant, that his best chance with Lisa was in 
 showing kindness to her friend, and that he 
 had little to fear from the young composer as 
 a rival. 
 
 ' And where is your Excellence off to, and 
 when ? ' he asked as he said good-bye. 
 
 The Count looked up with an air of fierce 
 determination. ' I remain,' he said. 'What 
 place should attract me, in my present mood, 
 but this one ? ' 
 
 The Doctor could not help laughing to 
 himself as he left the house at this ' mood ' 
 of von Plauen's ; but, nevertheless, it did not 
 make him feel inclined to trifle with Lisa's
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MANCEUVRES 189 
 
 matters, and he went immediately to Hasse, 
 and urged him to take her to stay with him 
 in the rVltmarkt, where Faustinas absence 
 left him very drearily, until the time when, 
 to von Plauen's surprise, she would leave 
 Dresden with him for the Castle.
 
 190 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND. 
 
 Up to the last moment before her departure, 
 Lisa, who counted the days to joining 
 Josquin In Bohemia, feared that the Capell- 
 meister might refuse to leave Dresden ; and 
 when once they were started on the road, 
 very different was this journey from that 
 of the pair who had gone before — Josquin 
 and his fascinating companion of sixty. 
 Lisa blindly travelled through the varied 
 scenery with eyes only impatiently desiring 
 her friend, and Hasse, always miserable on 
 a journey, swathed In flannels, with a night- 
 cap over his ears, went over all his grievances
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 191 
 
 from the worries and disputes of the past 
 season to the folly of the Doctor for sending 
 him along such bad roads, so that Lisa felt 
 that he might turn back at any moment. 
 Faustina had written, enchanted with the 
 romantic castle. She had been met there 
 by friends from Venice and Vienna. Her 
 patient was comfortable and progressing. 
 Everything was suited to the needs of an 
 invalid ; and she was all impatience for her 
 husband's arrival. 
 
 But a bitter surprise was in store for the 
 Capellmeister and Lisa, worn out at their 
 journey's end with joltings and discussions ; 
 the sight of the ferry-boat and the lake was 
 the last drop in his cup. He who always 
 crossed a bridge with his eyes shut saw him- 
 self cut off from everything by this piece of 
 water, and he stood in despair on the shore. 
 The party already assembled on the terrace 
 watched Lisa, grave as usual, urging and en-
 
 192 ALCESTIS 
 
 treating the Capellmelster to trust himself to 
 the small ferry-boat to cross the lake, that 
 separated them by some two hundred yards 
 from their friends. 
 
 His wife in vain called out a welcome. 
 ' Faustina, what new fantastic idea is this 
 of yours ? ' he roared back. ' It is a wonder 
 I find you safe ! ' 
 
 ' My dear angel, it Is a paradise. Come 
 only to try it ! ' 
 
 ' But I am no angel, Faustina, and I have 
 no wings to reach your paradise ! ' 
 
 'Wait till you see my beloved friend. 
 Your supper is waiting . . . your rooms ready.' 
 At last, after much more recrimination, the 
 Capellmelster was safely landed in his wife's 
 embrace, and Lisa met Josquin's bright 
 greeting, and was satisfied. The two 
 Italian friends from Venice were Introduced. 
 An excellent supper was prepared In the old 
 hall for the travellers ; and the evening was
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 
 
 193 
 
 spent by the little party In a deep window 
 overlooking the lake, from whence they 
 watched the light fading on the hill-tops, and 
 the moon rising behind the fringe of pines, 
 and stealing over the ghostly blue landscape. 
 Josquin produced a zither, with which he 
 had been amusing himself since he came, and 
 played them some characteristic melodies on 
 the little Instrument, the use of which seems 
 to be a second nature with the inhabitants of 
 dreamy pine-countries. They all listened 
 amused, till the Capellmeister had fallen fast 
 asleep ; Faustina became engrossed in con- 
 versation with her friends ; and then Lisa 
 was alone with Josquin for the first time 
 since much had happened. There was so 
 much to be said, but somehow they were not 
 unrestrained as usual. 
 
 * What colour did the lake seem to you 
 when you arrived, Lisa ? ' 
 
 * I don't remember ; blue, I think.' 
 
 VOL. IT. o
 
 194 ALCESTIS 
 
 * That is what we thought to begin with. 
 To-morrow it will seem to you greenish-blue, 
 the third day, bright green.' 
 
 ' I am sure it will always seem to me 
 blue.' 
 
 * What did you think of X , that you 
 
 passed on the road five miles from here ? ' 
 
 ' I do not remember just now having 
 seen it.' 
 
 ' It was very remarkable. I think you 
 have not the spirit of travel, Lisa, nor the 
 eve for blues and o^reens. Let us ask the 
 Capellmeisterin the colour of the lake ? ' 
 
 'Josquin!' she said, 'we have not seen 
 each other for months, years — how long is 
 it ? Have we nothing but the colour of the 
 lake to talk about ? ' 
 
 He held out his hand. ' Yes, dear 
 sister, I am so glad you have come ; let us 
 talk ; it is ages since we did.' 
 
 ' I have not the spirit of travel,' she
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 195 
 
 said, ' for It seems to me we have been con- 
 veyed here in a dream to a land of dreams.' 
 
 ' Yes, from the world where we are 
 awake — we are fast asleep here/ he 
 answered, a little bitterly. 
 
 ' But it is divinely peaceful,' she said. 
 * What a place to forget vexations in ! It is 
 impossible to realise the hot existence beyond 
 these pines from this perfect rest.' 
 
 'Ah Lisa, I shall soon have enough of rest ; 
 do you know that I long to be back in Dres- 
 den?' He looked towards Faustina. She was 
 leaning out of the window talking expressively 
 in their own tongue to the Italians, and he 
 went on, ' You know of all her angelic kind- 
 ness ; it was delicious here for a fortnight, and 
 I would not for worlds say anything to her of 
 my discontent ; but to you I can grumble.' 
 
 He looked up at Lisa with the old con- 
 fidence ; it was a true expression for brother's 
 love — to her he could o-riLinble. 
 
 o 
 
 o 2
 
 196 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' But you will return to Dresden when you 
 have gained strength ; only rest will give you 
 that' 
 
 ' You see, Lisa, we must each judge for 
 ourselves what is the best rest for our minds ; 
 I have been convalescent six weeks, and the 
 Meisterin scarcely lets me play. I have ideas 
 for a new symphony, and I am obliged to 
 work at it in secret.' 
 
 ' No, Josquin, you are wrong to work; why 
 not simply give yourself up to the present 
 moment of ease ? ' 
 
 ' For the last six months I have had no 
 present ; my one idea has been to work for 
 the future. . . .' 
 
 ' But,' she urged, not knowing his meaning, 
 ' there will be time enough for work when. . .' 
 
 ' The night comes when no man can work,' 
 he replied softly. ' Look here, I am a selfish 
 fellow always to talk of my affairs, but you 
 have ever spoilt me. Ivanhoff says I must be
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 197 
 
 quiet if I want to live ; I don't care to live if I 
 am to be quiet. My idea is now to go to 
 Vienna and see what I can do there — ^we are 
 half way. I want you to sound Hasse as to 
 the chance my opera would have there, and 
 what he would think of the plan.' 
 
 Lisa had understood his meaning now, 
 and she could not reply. When she had first 
 seen Josquin that day, she had thought him 
 looking fresher and stronger than through the 
 winter, and had rejoiced in the quiet and rest 
 that had done so much for him ; but now she 
 understood that it was no real peace he had 
 found, that one idea consumed him, that he 
 panted after success for his work ; for it, if not 
 for himself, the fulness of life and the sympathy 
 of men. Faustina she thought might be 
 mistaken in keeping him thus from all the 
 excitement of his art — a great interest might 
 do everything for him. 
 
 But indeed Josquin seemed to have found
 
 98 ALCESTIS 
 
 all his new plans for work independently of 
 Hasse's wishes and his wife's : he poured them 
 out now to his silent confidant ; his thoughts, 
 he told her, turned entirely towards Vienna ; 
 he was going to write to Lichtenberg, to his 
 cousin Charles — they might help his opera, and 
 then the chevalier Gluck might perhaps give 
 strong aid. Of Dresden he must renounce all 
 hope, and Faustina's Italian friends gave him 
 little encouragement for the Italian theatres, 
 so where should he turn but to Vienna ? But 
 Josquin added, ' Without you, dear sister, to 
 sing in my opera, without being able to take a 
 lead in it myself, how different it will be frorfi 
 what I dreamt ! I wonder,' he went on seem- 
 ing to follow a weary train of thought, ' if von 
 Plauen ever really looked at poor Alcestis.' 
 
 Lisa shivered ; a shadow always seemed 
 to fall between her and Josquin at the Inten- 
 dant's name. ' I myself,' she said abruptly with 
 her flushed cheek turned from him, ' hope that
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND I99 
 
 I may not have another season in Dresden. 
 Josquin, we will talk to Hasse about Vienna.' 
 
 ' Dear sister, you must not think of breaking 
 up the only thing that seems like home to me 
 by leaving Dresden. . . .' He was going to 
 add more to comfort her, seeing that he had 
 troubled her by mentioning von Plauen, but 
 Faustina came up, scolding herself for not 
 having shut the windows, through which the 
 moon streamed on the couple talking there, 
 and Hasse who calmly slept. He was con- 
 veyed still half-asleep to the room which had 
 been chosen for him, because it contained the 
 alcove he was accustomed to, and there he 
 enjoyed his usual game of picquet with Lisa 
 before settlinQf for the nio^ht. 
 
 In spite of the sad impression her conver- 
 sation of the night before made upon her at 
 the moment, Lisa awoke the next morning 
 with a sense of freedom and quiet ; and the 
 days that followed were full of happiness for
 
 200 ALCESTIS 
 
 her. Faustina had established perfect 
 regularity in the life of the castle, and 
 imposed her will on all (with one exception), 
 happy to acquiesce in arrangements for their 
 comfort and amusement. The Capellmeister 
 never stirred beyond the terrace, but friends 
 came to visit him all the way from Vienna 
 and Italy ; and he began to forget his vexa- 
 tions in talking of old glorious days. And 
 Lisa, though she may not have had the true 
 enjoyment of scenery, felt at ease in the 
 wild mountain-country ; the perfect freedom ; 
 her solitary rambles through the woods, 
 where she would sometimes pour forth her 
 voice when nobody could hear, and then, 
 falling silent, listen to the quickened sound 
 of distant waterfalls, the rustling of pines 
 overhead, and all Nature's music brawling on 
 in grand disdain of human interruption — her 
 renewed intercourse with Josquin, all made 
 these days some of the happiest of her life.
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 2oi 
 
 It was good for her poor hungry heart to be 
 taken into confidence at once by her friend ; 
 and what wonder if Lisa felt a naif satisfac- 
 tion in opposing Faustina s views, and if her 
 hopes turned to Vienna with new buoyancy ? 
 There no shadows fell, as in Dresden, of 
 fear, mistrust, and oppression. 
 
 Faustina, however, urged wisely that her 
 patient should not yet think of ambition. 
 Josquin's present mood was sad ; but she 
 dreaded yet more for him that weary time of 
 suspense. He must wait awhile, and not 
 give up hope of seeing his opera in Dresden. 
 Hasse, of course, was averse to his pupil's 
 bringing it out elsewhere. Ivanhoff wrote 
 mysteriously that he yet hoped great things 
 from a change in the Surintendant's mind. 
 Josquin was to bide his time. 
 
 But in spite of all, the composer seemed 
 impelled by a devouring impatience to send 
 his work to Vienna. He wrote to Charles, to
 
 202 ALCESriS 
 
 Lichtenberg, to the Ritter Gluck ; inaction 
 seemed terrible to him, and to Lisa alone he 
 told why. She clung eagerly to the plan of 
 going to Vienna, seeing in it the saving of 
 Josquin's hopes, the saving of her own peace, 
 she felt despairingly that while she remained 
 in Dresden Josquin had a powerful enemy. 
 And so Josquin sent his opera, and once more 
 counted the days to receiving the answer 
 from the authorities at the theatre. 
 
 Meanwhile thepoe^ of our story, the meta- 
 morphosised Paradies, whose sinister figure so 
 often comes like his own shadow over Josquin's 
 path, was following the fate of their joint work 
 with no less anxiety and ambition than the 
 musician. We have seen how he had worked 
 his way to von Plauen's ear with reassuring 
 whispers about the relations between Josquin 
 and Lisa ; he had since got himself a place 
 as secretary to the Surintendant, who had
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 203 
 
 been charmed by his discreet and impassive 
 mien ; and who little suspected in the 
 machine-like abbe the composer of the 
 libretto of Josquin's despised ' Alcestis.' 
 
 Elisabetha, however, did not approve of 
 spylngs and whisperings, even if they were 
 in Josquin's interest ; and about this time, 
 when the opera was sent to Vienna, she was 
 loth even that Josquin should let him know 
 of the move. However he wrote, and the 
 answer that came at once made Josquin laugh ; 
 but Elisabetha burst forth indignantly. 
 
 ' Dear friends ! ' Paradles wrote, ' with 
 great joy in my cruel prison-house I received 
 the news that our joint work is on its way to 
 fame in Vienna. But, dear friends, our posi- 
 tion Is very dangerous. I tremble to think 
 yet of a fall 'twixt two stools ! Were it not 
 better to wait ? His Excellency only wants 
 to make us feel his power ; his passion grows 
 daily — his jealousy of us. Ah ! If he knew
 
 204 ALCESTIS 
 
 my share in the work on which he is resolved 
 
 to show his power. But he despises me ; 
 
 he treats me Hke a worm — but I digress. He 
 
 now only seeks to keep us in suspense, what 
 
 if he should discover that the great work has 
 
 gone to Vienna, that it may be brought out 
 
 there in spite of him, that we carry off the 
 
 Fraulein Vaara ! — there will be danger. But 
 
 he shall not know. He smokes opium, dear 
 
 friends, by the hour ; he dreams away the time 
 
 till the Fraulein should return . . . He shall 
 
 know nothing about our scheme, or I am not 
 
 your devoted 
 
 * Paradies.' 
 
 ' What does the poor devil mean ? ' said 
 Josquin, after reading this composition. ' I 
 should like to know what power this man 
 has in Vienna ! ' But Lisa seemed to suffer 
 from gloomy forebodings for days after 
 reading Paradies' words. 
 
 Our poor friends lived now their real life
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 205 
 
 in the rare letters that reached them, but the 
 hostess who had chosen this green isle for 
 them loved not to see them absorbed, and 
 Josquin did his best to make up to his 
 sympathising friends for all they went through 
 on his account : he took to his violin again, 
 and left the zither to a little boatman to whom 
 he taught his own melodies ; sometimes he 
 used to arrange little entertainments in the 
 great hall, in which Lisa sang and the Italian 
 friends acted their own tragedies. But he 
 was concealing the impatience and longing 
 for life which devoured him. Sometimes, 
 when Faustina would come and insist upon 
 his taking rest, he would sink into his corner 
 by the great window, and looking out into 
 the eternal stillness of the pine-woods exclaim 
 to himself; 'Rest, rest; why do they give 
 me the one thing I most dread .-^ ' 
 
 Once in the week the little ferry-boat 
 would come across with letters from over the
 
 2o6 A LC EST IS 
 
 mountains, and Josquin lived for these letters 
 in this retreat which had been chosen for 
 him, and he felt that the little boat linked 
 him to life. One day he watched it ap- 
 proaching with beating heart, it must bring 
 him soTfie news from Vienna, he thought. 
 The little fisherman held up two letters, one 
 with Lichtenberg's great seal. ' See, Lisa ! 
 just what I hoped for,' he exclaims ; but why 
 does Lisa's heart sink at seeinof Paradies' 
 handwriting on the other ? 
 
 The Count's letter gave almost certain 
 hope of Josquin's success. The Capellmeister 
 had seen his opera, all was going well for 
 its acceptance, Charles von Gasparein was 
 full of interest. His Excellency himself had 
 spoken for Josquin, they must wait patiently 
 for a week, and then he hoped that Josquin 
 might be summoned to Vienna. 
 
 Josquin read this and looked round with 
 a smile : he was thinking that the mountains
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 207 
 
 seemed suddenly to lose their oppressive 
 coldness, that the clouds sailed faster, the 
 colours of the trees were less mournful, the 
 cataract roared joyfully — life, life ! lay yet 
 beyond for him. He looked at Lisa — she 
 saw nothing of the new glory — she was 
 holding out Paradies' letter, which she had 
 opened, with a pale face. 
 
 'What can the poor devil say to scare 
 you, Lisa ? ' and he read hastily. 
 
 ' Dear friends. — The danger has come, 
 and it is through some carelessness of yours ! 
 Who is Brigitta von Gasparein .-^ She writes 
 to His Excellency — she talks of Josquin as 
 her nephew — she knows all about his opera — 
 she looks upon the musical profession as a 
 disgrace — she calls von Plauen to the help of 
 her family. Dear friends, I hope all will yet 
 be well, but / put m)^ trust in no aunts — our 
 common work must not suffer from yours.
 
 2o8 ALCESTIS 
 
 Von Plauen eats opium still ... let us trust, 
 let us trust.' 
 
 * Why do you listen to the railings of this 
 idiot, Elisabetha ? for once let us hope.' 
 
 The days seemed weeks, the weeks years, 
 to Josquin before the next ferry-boat brought 
 a mail to the lonely castle. At last the day 
 came when he opened the Vienna opera's 
 large sealed paper — his opera was' rejected 
 without any explanation. 
 
 A short, warm note from Charles told all. 
 The von Gasparein family had got wind of 
 Josquin's efforts to come before the Vienna 
 public. They had been powerless to oppose 
 his opera, but Brigittas intimation to von 
 Plauen had brought him to Vienna. From 
 the time of his arrival the authorities had 
 changed their tone. Charles hinted at 
 bribes — it was a pitiful story, and the young 
 fashionable's light soul seemed to have been 
 pierced by the thought of his friend's disap-
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 209 
 
 polntment. He could not forgive his people 
 for their cruel interference. He wanted to 
 escape, and could not Josquin let him carry 
 him away to Italy ? 
 
 But after this new startling check to all 
 his hopes, Josquin yet seemed to have no 
 energy left but for his opera. ' In Italy, it 
 has no chance,' he said. ' Where Count von 
 Plauen is, there is no hope for me. I must 
 go to Berlin.' 
 
 * But in time you will get known at 
 Venice,' Faustina urged. ' You will get rest 
 and pleasure there meanwhile. . . .' 
 
 * The time is too short — I think I have 
 just enough left to see Alcestis live in 
 Germany ; but I cannot go back to Dresden.' 
 
 The refusal had depressed Hasse, because 
 he looked upon it as a personal affront ; Faus- 
 tina, of course, was furious, and Lisa, full of 
 dark forebodings, could see nothing but a 
 cruel fate making her the obstacle to her 
 
 VOL. II. p
 
 2IO ALCESIIS 
 
 friend s success, in this new refusal of his 
 opera. 
 
 There was one person, however, who did 
 not see any cause for despair in the new dis- 
 appointment at Vienna. This was Dr. Ivan- 
 hoff, who had carried away hope from that 
 conversation of three months before ; in 
 which the Intendant had revealed to him all 
 his passion, and in which the Doctor had 
 tried to turn his jealousy of the young 
 composer into pity. Ivanhoff did not know 
 what new mood influenced the capricious 
 Intendant, but he thouo-ht he saw a 
 meaning in his interference with the opera at 
 Vienna. Von Plauen might wash to keep 
 Josquin's work under his own patronage, in 
 order that he mi2:ht use it to w^in Elisabetha's 
 gratitude and favour. 
 
 Of his hopes, however, he did not speak 
 to Josquin when he wrote. His kind letter 
 contained only a scolding. Why had he
 
 THE UNSEEN HAND 21 1 
 
 gone against his advice ? Had he not told 
 him to remain faithful to his Dresden voca- 
 tion in spite of disappointment ? To Lisa 
 he wrote with tender interest, to the Capell- 
 meister of von Plauen's increasing unpop- 
 ularity, to Faustina with a spice of scandal. 
 And their kind correspondent cheered the 
 melancholy little party, and they each wrote 
 him privately a little plan for leaving 
 Dresden. With these letters in his pocket, 
 the Doctor went to von Plauen. 
 
 ' What news of the adorable Lisa ? ' the 
 Intendant immediately asked, little suspecting 
 that all his transaction at Vienna was 
 known. 
 
 ' Ah ! what a sad summer she has spent, 
 
 poor thing,' Ivanhoff answered. * Faustina 
 
 and Hasse are broken down. She is not 
 
 only nursing them, but a worse invalid — poor 
 
 Josquin Dorioz.' 
 
 ' And what have you to tell me about 
 V 2
 
 212 ALCESTIS 
 
 \}s\\s platonic invalid ? How does he thrive 
 under all his nurses ? ' 
 
 * In Italy he might live some years, not in 
 our climate. Do you know that the whole 
 party talk of emigrating thither ? ' 
 
 'What do you mean by the whole 
 party ? ' von Plauen burst out ; ' not the 
 Vaara included ? ' 
 
 The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, and 
 said coldly : ' Que voitlez-vous f Dresden has 
 not smiled on her of late.' 
 
 Ivanhoff said no more, but he felt that 
 he had guessed rightly the reason of von 
 Plauen s interference in Vienna. A few days 
 afterwards the Intendant showed him a letter 
 he had written to the Klosterhaus to greet 
 Josquin on his arrival. It was to announce to 
 him that his opera was accepted upon recon- 
 sideration, and that it would be put into 
 rehearsal immediately. Lisa was greeted 
 with a garden of roses in her room.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 REJECTED. 
 
 *A LITTLE happiness ' was what Dr. Ivanhoff 
 had prescribed for his patient. It had come 
 at last, and Josquin was restored to the hfe 
 he had longed for so ardently ; — he had little 
 dreamt what a joyful return it would be. 
 No longer did his life seem to fall short in 
 cruel contradiction, for he tasted now verily of 
 life in life, he experienced the fulfilment of 
 human hope in one of its most perfect forms, 
 the interpretation of his own creation. He 
 came back to Dresden to find delio^htful work 
 cut out for him, cheerful activity opening to 
 him again, new excitement every day, in the 
 bringing out of his work; all the morning 
 
 I
 
 214 ALCESTIS 
 
 there were singers, managers, scene-painters 
 to be seen, in the evening a pleasant society 
 to make much of him, old friends to greet him 
 once more as their favourite musician, and he 
 seemed to get new life from contact with life, 
 and to rise above his weakness. 
 
 Charles arrived in Dresden shortly after 
 Josquin, and came full of his wish to make 
 up to his cousin for the cruel wrongs done by 
 his family ; but Josquin had no more need of 
 Italy. He kept his cousin, and as in the old 
 days exerted himself to make him known in 
 his own world. 
 
 Meanwhile the rehearsals of ' Alcestis ' pro- 
 gressed, and every day Josquin experienced 
 new exquisite sensations; the first sound of 
 the violins in his overture, which he had heard 
 only in dreams, the delight of conducting his 
 orchestra, the perfecting of the choruses ; one 
 by one these pleasures became known to 
 him : there remained but one new experience
 
 REJECTED 215 
 
 of this kind, the climax of the composer's satis- 
 faction — he had not yet heard Lisa in the part 
 he had composed for her. 
 
 There never was a composer so blest in 
 his prima-donna ; Lisa had been singing her 
 very best since her return, she had gained a 
 wonderful power in this her third season in 
 Dresden ; here was one who was mistress of 
 her public, and understood the composers 
 meaning so well that, as musicians, there was 
 but one soul between them ; here was a devo- 
 tion and enthusiasm ready to be poured out 
 in the performance of his work which many 
 an older musician than Josquin would have 
 envied. But though he knew this, and was 
 grateful, tender even to her, he did not realise 
 all that Elisabetha was to him till the day 
 of the first full rehearsal of his work. 
 
 The rehearsal was fixed to take place 
 three weeks before the performance ; the days 
 had passed quickly, and they had reached the
 
 2i6 ALCESTIS 
 
 new year. The choruses and minor scenes 
 of Josquin's opera were In an advanced state, 
 he had been patient and firm, as he could 
 afford to be, through all difficulties, and the 
 musicians for the most part loved him ; and 
 though there were some jealousies, he had had 
 misfortunes to soften the harsh criticism that 
 usually pursues the successful. But it was 
 the time when first the interest of the singers 
 and performers begins to be tired by constant 
 rehearsals, the first excitement is succeeded 
 by flatness, and the appearance of the prima- 
 donna created a wonderful effect on the 
 spirits of the artists, tired of the business-like 
 repetitions. There in the shabby day-light 
 theatre, Lisa appeared with her long floating 
 cloak simply clasped at the neck, and with 
 the first outburst of her voice imparted new 
 interest to band, chorus, and young leader. 
 There was a great earnestness they could not 
 but catch from her ; an dlaii, a fire, a life-giving
 
 REJECTED 217 
 
 spontaneity. The tenor was almost paralysed 
 at first by her vehemence ; amid interruptions 
 she showed a strange mixture of patience, 
 and that * fierceness ' of which poor Totli 
 complained. She would stop suddenly to 
 silence two young musicians in the orchestra, 
 and lectured the chief flute a good deal on the 
 pitch cf his instrument ; but when the com- 
 poser spoke, however long his directions to 
 the chorus or other singers, she listened with 
 perfect forbearance, herself encouraging such 
 interruptions, and going through the passages 
 again of her own accord. 
 
 As the rehearsal went on, she threw 
 herself more and more into the spirit of her 
 part, and soon the other singers seemed to 
 be carried up into the tragic spirit of the 
 play, and rendered the music with precision 
 and power. Who that had seen Josquin 
 then would have recoofnised in him the traces 
 of illness and languor ? who would not have
 
 2i8 ALCESTIS 
 
 envied him as he led his band ? He was 
 very quiet as a leader, but his face showed 
 the excitement he felt, and his eyes were 
 suffused with a happy radiance ; indeed he 
 felt as though he swam on a buoyant sea 
 after sluggish waters. Lisa's rendering of his 
 Alcestis was all that he had imagined, she 
 seemed to say all that was possible, and 
 sometimes to rise above what he had dreamt. 
 The whole scene would have interested 
 a stranger ; it was watched with intense 
 anxiety by a man from one of the dark boxes 
 on a level with the pit ; he observed the 
 conductor's face, but Josquin was unconscious 
 of his presence. When the rehearsal was 
 over, and the musicians were departing, he 
 had a few last directions to give the chorus, 
 but immediately hurried round to the foyer, 
 which Lisa was just leaving with her faithful 
 Regenfurth. He seized her hands. ' Lisa, 
 dearest sister, it was divinely sung : how
 
 REJECTED 219 
 
 from henceforth can I serve you ? ' She 
 could not speak, but a h'ght shone in her face, 
 Josquin \\\^xi felt her beauty for the first time. 
 
 She could only give him a look and turn 
 to go. At that moment she saw Count von 
 Plauen, who had come in, a minute before ; 
 he had watched the rehearsal, he had heard 
 Josquin's words as he clasped Lisa's hands. 
 
 ' Allow me to lead you to the door, 
 Madam, my carriage will take you home. 
 You were superb to-day, Fraulein Vaara, and 
 your friend M. Dorioz seems to thrive upon 
 these rehearsals.* 
 
 He said this as he passed out of Josquin's 
 hearing, for Lisa, impelled by a sudden 
 paralysing fear, had taken his hand to accept 
 his offer of his carriage ; nor did the young 
 man see the Intendant's face, it was quite 
 pale and his eyes were passionate. Lisa 
 looked up at the Count almost scared, as she 
 said good-bye ; the light was all gone from.
 
 220 A LC EST IS 
 
 her face, and she threw herself back in his 
 carriage as it drove away, as though she did 
 not wish to be seen in it. 
 
 But Josquin, still happy, went and flung 
 himself down on a sofa near the fire-place 
 of the foyer behind the theatre : the Inten- 
 dant did not return that way, he could not 
 face the young man, but surely von Plauen's 
 heart would have been softened had he seen 
 his rival then. Josquin's face was pale with 
 the excitement of conducting, but his eyes 
 were lighted up with a happy radiance ; 
 his mind was still full of the impression of 
 beauty and power that Lisa's acting had left, 
 and with the perfect satisfaction of seeing his 
 work accomplished came the thought of the 
 loveliness of life with overpowering force ; it 
 was not her performance, not his own, which 
 gave him such satisfaction, but the thought of 
 her love and worth. Not any experience of 
 life seemed to him to compare with what he
 
 REJECTED 121 
 
 had felt when he clasped Lisa's hands just 
 then, and his heart felt thankful, for the great 
 sister-soul that had grown beside his own, 
 that had guided him through the past, and 
 now made more than ought else the future 
 beautiful to him : in it he trusted to serve 
 her more perfectly. Exhausted by such 
 overpowering happiness, Josquin lay in the 
 opera gallery. 
 
 Meanwhile Count von Plauen had gone 
 straight to Ivanhoff. 
 
 ' Doctor, how long do you give Josquin 
 Dorioz to live } ' 
 
 * What ! ' said the doctor, affecting great 
 anxiety, ' do you come from the opera ? is he 
 worse ? what has happened ? ' 
 
 * Worse indeed ! I have just left him look- 
 ing as strong and well as you or I. Doctor, 
 you are mistaken quite about his strength, 
 and about the state of things between 
 him and — Look here ! he was squeezing the
 
 222 ALCESTIS 
 
 hands of the divine Lisa just now with a truly 
 platonic fervour ! ' 
 
 The Doctor saw the Count's unusual 
 excitement, and need to be soothed. 
 
 ' My dear friend, I can only rejoice at this 
 account you give of my patient ; as for his 
 feeling for your beloved, you must not fear 
 that it rivals yours. You must allow for the 
 composer's fzci^ore, for the artist-sympathy 
 between them. Haven't you seen enough of 
 these excitable and truly admirable beings not 
 to be surprised at such outbursts ? ' 
 
 ' But it was not common gratitude to her 
 for singing so divinely in his music — and hoiu 
 she did sing ! It was love, I tell you ! O 
 Heavens, that I had foreseen it all sooner ; 
 he will live to rob me of the reward of all 
 the unselfishness I have shown him. I will 
 tell you, Ivanhoff, for the past three months I 
 cannot see her act without spending a sleep- 
 less night after it ; my life has become regular
 
 REJECTED 223 
 
 through her influence, my passion for her 
 has swallowed up all else. I am prepared for 
 any sacrifice for her ; and do you not think it 
 is hard at my time of life, Doctor, to find my- 
 self impeded at every turn by a lad who owes 
 everything to me ? You have not judged 
 well of his strength ; he will live yet to prevent 
 my carrying out any of my plans for life.' 
 
 * If I have been mistaken in his powers 
 does that mean that you have no chance with 
 Lisa ? You must have patience, dear Count, 
 you are winning her respect and love by your 
 kindness.' 
 
 ' No ! for once, Ivanhoff, I think your 
 counsel mistaken ; if I wait, I may find my- 
 self bitterly taken in. I will ask for her love ; 
 if I cannot persuade her by my own love, at 
 least she shall feel my power 1 Anyhow I 
 will be out of suspense.' 
 
 ' But you risk to lose all by declaring 
 yourself,' the Doctor could only urge, but
 
 224 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 he could not say anything farther, for he 
 saw that von Plauen's irritation at the 
 moment was too great to allow him to listen 
 to anything. 
 
 ' It will be the same three weeks hence — 
 but after all I have good hope ; remember 
 that she does not yet suspect all that I wish 
 to offer her — the knowledge may make her 
 see me in my true light.' 
 
 And he went, and the good Doctor could 
 only trust that things would not change much 
 though the Intendant might declare himself. 
 That evening von Plauen composed a letter 
 — the formal proposal of marriage to Lisa. 
 He had often imagined himself making the 
 full declaration of his intentions to her, and 
 now as he formed the flattering sentences that 
 conveyed the expression of his honourable 
 feelings, his ruffled temper was smoothed 
 down, his morbid fears disappeared, and when 
 he concluded, he felt so convinced of the
 
 REJECTED 225 
 
 honour he was conferring upon her, that he 
 felt quite dazzled by the brilliancy of his offer, 
 and he could scarcely realise how an hour 
 before he had doubted its success. 
 
 It was Paradies to whom this note was 
 confided. * You will deliver this yourself to 
 the Fraulein Vaara, you will ask her per- 
 mission to call in an hour for her reply ; you 
 will then go and find M. Dorioz, question him 
 closely about the rehearsal that took place to- 
 day, and you will give me an account of the 
 impression it seems to have made upon him. 
 Return to me then with the answer to my 
 note,' and as the confidential secretary re- 
 ceived the magnificent billet, he did not betray 
 under his pale eyelashes the faintest trace of 
 interest, though he thrilled to think what were 
 the contents of the letter, and longed to know 
 what had happened at the rehearsal. 
 
 When he arrived at the Klosterhaus, 
 Josquin was in Lisa's room : she was singing, 
 VOL. II. Q
 
 226 ALCESTIS 
 
 he resting in an arm-chair. Poor Paradies ! it 
 was a hard fate that made him the instrument 
 of his friends' tormentor : he felt a pang at the 
 sight of his friends' peaceful fireside— it was 
 a feeling of mixed jealousy and pity, and he 
 knew instinctively that they looked upon his 
 entrance as an ill-omen. And yet was he not 
 important to them, had he not done well for 
 them so far, however much they might hate 
 the by-paths and steady ways he took to 
 secure their common interests ? He delivered 
 his master's note formally to Lisa, and then 
 fell on Josquin's neck. ' Dear friend, w^e will 
 leave the Fraulein Vaara to answer her billet. 
 I would have a few words with you in your 
 room. . . .' 
 
 'Why, Paradies!' Josquin was saying, 
 * don't wear such a pale face. My dear boy, 
 why weren't you there to-day, to see your 
 Alcestis in her first rehearsal ? it was 
 glorious — confound all your cautiousness
 
 REJECTED 227 
 
 and these notes you bring. We are all safe, 
 Paradies ! ' 
 
 * Hush ! hush ! ' Paradies said, quite terri- 
 fied ; * my beloveds, I am your tender friend, 
 take my advice and be cautious. Dorioz, I 
 must speak with you and Fraulein Vaara. I 
 implore you show the greatest caution — the 
 supreme moment is at hand ; come, lead me 
 to your apartment,' he said, dragging Josquin 
 by the arm. He felt that he must be able to 
 tell his master that they had conversed in any 
 other place but Lisa's sitting-room — that 
 Josquin must know nothing of the contents 
 of von Plauen's letter to her. They left the 
 room together. 
 
 Lisa was flushing over the first glance at 
 the unhappy note, when Paradies' head was 
 put in again : ' Dear friend, do nothing 
 rash — it is a great moment for caution. 
 We depend upon you. Thank God I am in 
 a position to warn you ! ' 
 
 Q2
 
 228 ALCESTIS 
 
 A thrill of horror ran through Lisa after 
 he had disappeared. Paradies seemed to add 
 to the note of which he was the bearer, all 
 the sinister meaning that she strove not to 
 give to it. She had read at the first glance 
 von Plauen's words calmly ; she had flushed 
 only with the scorn which a woman is 
 privileged to feel towards the man who has 
 been too infatuated to recognise the hopeless- 
 ness of his importunity — for one instant she 
 felt almost grateful to von Plauen for giving 
 her the opportunity for explaining herself; 
 her whole soul longed to pour itself out in 
 one frank full refusal, to crush honestly once 
 for all the obstinate hopes built on so little — 
 to have done with ' caution,' friendliness, and 
 the cruel necessity for conciliation. This had 
 been her first impulse when she read his 
 words ; how easy, if she could have followed 
 it, would have been her action. But Para- 
 dies added horror to her situation by showing
 
 REJECTED 229 
 
 its complication. His master's look of that 
 afternoon ; his words, * Your friend seems 
 to thrive mightily well on these rehearsals/ 
 spoken with such suppressed fury — came 
 back to her ; she felt that Paradies' words 
 were only too much needed by her. Josquin s 
 nobler soul, she knew, would have despised his 
 mean reminder that they depended on her ; 
 it was not the less true, she had no rieht to 
 act as though she had no one but herself to 
 consider in the refusal of von Plauen's hand. 
 She strove to find words humble and concili- 
 ating to express it in. She was under a debt of 
 gratitude to him — for what ? an injustice with- 
 drawn ! Poor boon ! She read again the 
 vain composition before her, and all feelings 
 disappeared but that of resentment against 
 the man who so calmly proposed to her to 
 give up her calling at his bidding, and she 
 felt that there could be but one answer to his 
 note. She wrote :
 
 230 ALCESriS 
 
 ' Your Excellency — I am grateful to you 
 for the expression of your kind consideration. 
 I am surprised that you do not know what 
 my only answer to your letter can be. I can 
 never give up my vocation to the stage, and 
 therefore I can never be your wife. Do not 
 think me ungrateful for the benefits you have 
 shown me of late and always. It is a cruel 
 fate that makes me more in your eyes than a 
 humble singer, but I earnestly beg you to 
 give up all thought of one whom you would 
 find little answering to the illusions which 
 make you look upon her as worthy of so 
 great honour from you. Nothing that you 
 can offer me can make me think for an instant 
 of giving up my liberty and my Art. 
 
 ' Elisabetiia Vaara.' 
 
 This note did Lisa's forbearance great 
 credit ; she had torn up many copies before 
 she could bring herself to the expression of
 
 REJECTED 231 
 
 such a calm refusal. Paradies called for it 
 in an hour. 
 
 There was to be a second full rehearsal of 
 the ' Alcestis ' two days following : that same 
 afternoon a notice was put up on the door of 
 the theatre announcing that the performance 
 of the opera was to be indefinitely postponed, 
 and there was therefore no rehearsal. Thus 
 had Count von Plauen taken to himself seven 
 devils worse than the first, when he had 
 received Lisa's answer to his note. 
 
 The musicians stood round the notice 
 that evening before opera-time, asking each 
 other what it could mean. Some said that 
 the Intendant had not liked the music when 
 he heard it done at the first rehearsal he 
 attended, nor judged that it would suit the 
 Court. He had had some sudden fancy that 
 it would interfere with a work which he him- 
 self wished to bring out. 
 
 * Well, it is not a bad matter finished up,'
 
 ?32 ALCESTIS 
 
 said Colophonlus confidentially to his young 
 friend Totli, as they took their places in the 
 orchestra. ' Fearfully anstrengend, that music 
 to play ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, such scoring ! But I think that I 
 shall be able to make something of that flute 
 ^air in society.' 
 
 * Ah poor fellow ! ' said Bleikopf, the 
 tender-hearted. * I liked his music well 
 enough, and I believe Dresden would have 
 gone mad over it. It is a sad blow — a bad 
 affair.' 
 
 And all watched with compassion the 
 young composer taking his usual place in the 
 orchestra. Josquin had received the cruel 
 notice at his rooms that day from Para- 
 dies. As usual, the reticent secretary had 
 received his orders with the dreamy com- 
 posure which made him so trustworthy in his 
 master's eyes. How astonished would the 
 latter have been had he heard the loud
 
 REJECTED 233 
 
 lamentations into which our author burst out, 
 as he brought the composer the news of the 
 sad end put to the performance of their 
 common work ! Paradies could not even 
 refrain from exclaiming against Lisa, who 
 left them thus hopeless when she was so 
 powerful. In his agitation he trembled from 
 head to foot. * You, Dorioz, have still your 
 violin ! / have no other hope for renown — 
 fortune is so cruel to me. . . . See, Josquin, it 
 is Elisabetha who must plead for us. Let me 
 tell you my fears : her answer to the Inten- 
 dant's note, which I carried the other day, 
 has done the mischief . . . nay, hear me' — 
 but, as once before, Paradies had appeared 
 to Josquin as a warning against sentimental 
 despair, so now did a sort of horror come 
 over him ; and he seemed to see in the brood- 
 ing secretary the double of himself, and would 
 not hear another word from him. He had felt 
 dizzy and blind when he received the first 
 shock of his disappointment. For a few
 
 234 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 minutes he was unable to take a step ; but he 
 soon cut Paradies short, and broke from him, 
 rushing out he scarcely knew where. He 
 suddenly remembered that he had to play in 
 the orchestra very soon, and going into a 
 cafe he ordered a bottle of wine, and drank 
 tumbler after tumbler till the blood ran more 
 kindly through his veins ; then strengthened, 
 he went into the theatre, and played like mad, 
 looking neither to the right nor to the left ; 
 and immediately afterwards went for comfort 
 to the Capellmeisterin. 
 
 Faustina knew all. It was the greatest 
 relief to her to see her beloved young friend 
 bearing up against disappointment, though 
 she could see what effort there was in his 
 manner. 
 
 * Dear Meisterin,' he said ; * I have had 
 cakes and ale all my life ; I can put up better 
 with disappointment now that I am stronger, 
 only I must leave Dresden, and seek my for- 
 tunes elsewhere.'
 
 REJECTED 235 
 
 Faustina vainly abused von Plauen, and 
 wondered what was the new cause of his 
 cruelty. They neither of them knew of his 
 formal proposal to Lisa, but when Faustina 
 said a word implying that she was in fault, 
 Josquin checked her. 
 
 ' Poor Lisa, she will feel it more than 1/ 
 and Faustina, as often before, now felt that 
 she dare not say what she thought. 
 
 Nevertheless Josquin found it impossible 
 to go that night and find Lisa ; he could only 
 leave a line at her door. 
 
 ' Dearest sister, — Don't grieve too much 
 for me. My poor " Alcestis " has caused you 
 too much trouble already. You made it 
 great, you might have made it live ! . . . 
 
 ' Still there is always friendship and sun- 
 shine and song left. Let us be always 
 faithful to these, and to each other. 
 
 ' Your Josquin.'
 
 236 ALCESTIS 
 
 Sitting in her lonely room in pitiful distress 
 Lisa received this note (happily it had not 
 been one of her nights at the opera). She 
 had many hours wept in sympathy with 
 Josquin — she had wrung her hands in 
 agonising self-reproach ; and then she had 
 been making up her mind to the one effort 
 it was clear to her she must make, but which 
 she again and again shrank from in hopeless- 
 ness and horror. 
 
 The next morning she felt that she must 
 go to von Plauen himself, and implore the 
 pity of the man she had just rejected scorn- 
 fully. But Josquin's note brought her com- 
 fort and strength for her action. She kept it 
 in her clasped hands all night, and it helped 
 her to look forward with more calmness to 
 the effort of the next day.
 
 237 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 josquin's advocate. 
 
 The next morning when Lisa came to his 
 palace, Count von Plauen was sitting in his 
 study in no enviable mood. Ever since he 
 had given the cruel order for stopping the 
 new opera he had been receiving remon-* 
 strances and petitions which only increased 
 his irritation against the young composer. 
 Lisa s letter had, as we have seen, rested her 
 refusal of his hand upon her Art, which she 
 could not give up ; but he had persuaded 
 himself that this objection might be removed, 
 and the only real obstacle to his love was 
 Josquin Dorioz.
 
 238 ALCESTIS 
 
 That morning, the Doctor had come be- 
 fore he was up, to tell him that he was making 
 a great mistake ; the Capellmeister, coming to 
 discuss the question of his pupil's opera, had 
 remained to make a long scene over all 
 his grievances ; and, he had just received 
 a note on pink paper from a lady in the 
 world to tell him that he did not know, 
 perhaps, the circumstances which made the 
 postponement of the young and interesting 
 Mr. Dorioz's work a very great disappoint- 
 ment in all her circle where he was such a 
 favourite. She went into harrowing details 
 about his health, and finished up by saying, 
 that she was sure the amiable Intendant 
 would make concessions in favour of her 
 young 'protdgd. Even Paradies, the silent 
 secretary, who, as we know, was not quite 
 disinterested, surprised the master by making 
 remonstrances when he gave him orders 
 about the works to be performed instead of
 
 yOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 239 
 
 the luckless ' Alcestis.' And, in the midst 
 of all this opposition, the infatuated Intendant 
 had begun to persuade himself that he was 
 only performing his public duty in remaining 
 firm about the opera which he had been 
 forced to condemn. 
 
 He was replying to the note from the lady 
 of the world, complacently giving this reason, 
 when Lisa's arrival below was announced to 
 him. Von Plauen started from his seat after 
 the servant had gone to summon her. Was 
 not her coming a proof of her devotion to 
 the composer ? Still, it gave him great 
 delight that she had thus come of her own 
 self; it was his moment of power. 
 
 If you had seen the 'delicate-handed 
 dilettante ' then in the midst of the luxury of 
 his palace, you would have wondered that 
 this simple earnest woman standing before 
 him had inspired the great passion of his 
 life. Von Plauen turned pale as she entered,
 
 240 ALCESTIS 
 
 for he felt that the power of that moment 
 belonged to her, and his wilful tyranny 
 shrank before her strength. She made him 
 feel ashamed of his own wilfulness ; and yet 
 nothing but his action of yesterday would 
 have brought her to-day — he did not regret 
 it. This thought hardened him, and he said 
 coldly, ' This is an unexpected pleasure — a 
 visit from the Fraulein Vaara is a favour 
 I did not think to receive.' 
 
 ' Your Excellency, I have not come to 
 confer any favour on you, only to implore 
 one.' 
 
 ' That surprises me also, and pleases me 
 not less. I take it as magnanimous of you, 
 Fraulein Vaara, after sending the reply you 
 did to my letter on Wednesday, to come and 
 ask a favour of me on Friday, and I should 
 be glad to have it in my power to help you.' 
 
 Lisa winced at these words ; but she 
 strove not to show that her knees trembled, 
 
 I
 
 JOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 241 
 
 and to steady her voice. ' Your Excellency 
 will be generous and forgive me for thus 
 coming, when I have so little claim on your 
 consideration ; but I have come because I 
 had something special to say. Count von 
 Plauen, you have acted thoughtlessly in 
 stopping Josquin Dorioz's opera. You do 
 not know all the cruelty of your action ; and 
 I Gome to show it to you, and to rouse your 
 better impulses. Do you know all that you 
 have done in disappointing his hopes ? ' 
 
 Von Plauen's lips were compressed, and 
 his face pale with anger. 
 
 *Yes, Madam, you come because you 
 think that, professionally, you have every 
 right to make use of me, though on other 
 ground you will not meet me. But you 
 know that it is in my bureau that I discuss 
 business, and I do not like to be harassed at 
 home by such affairs.' 
 
 VOL. II. R
 
 242 ALCESTIS 
 
 Lisa's face flushed with humiHation, for 
 she felt herself in a false position. * I am 
 not a woman of the world, your Excellency ; 
 I am not one of those ladles among whom 
 your life has been passed, and I daresay I 
 am not acting according to their rules by thus 
 coming.' 
 
 He softened Immediately. 
 
 * And do you not think that this Is what I 
 have chosen In you, do you not believe that 
 I am sick of the conventional women I live 
 amongst ? ' but she was even more afraid of 
 his tenderness than his sarcasm, and went on 
 hastily, 
 
 ' Forgive me. Count, I cannot listen to 
 this. I pray you only let me say what I have 
 come to say. 
 
 * I think you did not know what you were 
 doing yesterday when you stopped the 
 opera of my poor friend ; you think, prob- 
 ably, it is a mere temporary disappointment
 
 yOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 243 
 
 you inflict, that in time you will make it up 
 to him ; but I will tell you what you did ; 
 it was as if you plucked the pillow from 
 under a dying man's head. Just listen — you 
 have power, wealth, you have beauty all 
 round you, and you have hundreds to love 
 and be loved by ; you cannot imagine what it 
 is to struggle, to have given up everything 
 for music, to have no other delight ; and then, 
 when even life seems to be failing, to con- 
 centrate all your hope in your work, in its 
 success ; to long to leave something behind 
 to be remembered by. This is what his 
 opera is to Josquin Dorloz ; it is his one ewe 
 lamb, and you are like the rich man in the 
 Bible, Count; oh, restore his hope to him ! — 
 you might save his life — and think what that 
 happiness would be to your life's end ! ' 
 
 * My dear Madam, it Is not a question of 
 charity ; I had good reasons for stopping 
 the rehearsals of your friend's opera for the 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ALCESTIS 
 
 present. Perhaps next autumn he can renew 
 them.' 
 
 Lisa was so importunate that he sought 
 any loop-hole for appeasing her. 
 
 ' But this is the point I want to bring 
 before your Excellency. Next year it may 
 be too late, and then you cannot be free from 
 remorse. Think impartially of his work ; 
 do you in your heart doubt its genius, do 
 you not see its beauty ? I know that it is 
 beautiful, and that it will give delight to 
 many hundreds for many years, but if his 
 success and his fame come too late for him 
 to know, if he passed away without hearing 
 his thought expressed, without feeling the 
 sympathy of those who listen, and it was 
 your fault ! — would not the music that out- 
 lived him, even his tunes whistled in the street, 
 pursue you with remorse ? Nay,' she went 
 on, carried away by the image her own 
 words brought up : * would not his spirit
 
 yOSQl/IN'S ADVOCATE 245 
 
 seem to haunt you, hovering over you when 
 called back by his own inspiration ? For 
 you are very powerful, Count von Plauen, 
 but beauty is stronger yet ; if not now, later 
 it will overcome you . . .' She could go on 
 no farther, for she dreaded the choking sobs 
 that rose up in her throat. Von Plauen 
 had been gazing at her, giving way to his 
 passionate admiration for the whole woman, 
 her massive graceful form as she stood 
 supplicating before him (for she had silently 
 refused the seat he had offered her), the pure 
 brow from which her bright hair rippled, the 
 originality of her gestures — the great soul 
 beseeching out of her grey eyes suffused 
 through her fervour. 
 
 ' Child,' he said bitterly, * this lad has 
 infatuated you with feelings that make you 
 magnify all he does.' 
 
 ' No, no, it is no illusion,' she said quickly : 
 * he will become a favourite soon ; t/ieji you
 
 246 ALCESTIS 
 
 would not have It said, your Excellency, that 
 you hurried on his death.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' he cried, * you don't know what 
 you are talking about. I look upon this 
 work with calm eyes ; at first I was too much 
 predisposed to judge well of it, afterwards I 
 found I had been mistaken and that it would 
 never answer : you really must allow me to 
 judge, to fulfil my office conscientiously.' 
 
 ' No, Count von Plauen ! ' — she saw that 
 he had almost persuaded himself that this 
 was true, she felt that she must look him 
 honestly in the face, and for her friend's sake 
 make him to see his own selfishness. ' Three 
 months ago did you not stop the opera in 
 Vienna ? ' he started, for he had not thought 
 that she knew this. '■ Last spring did you 
 not unconditionally refuse it ? but, your Ex- 
 cellency, you were not yourself in thus acting ; 
 I believe that you only act selfishly in 
 ignorance of the suffering you cause — you 
 have better impulses.'
 
 JOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 247 
 
 * Lisa ! ' he said, with a quick movement 
 towards her, ' speak to me Hke that, and I 
 will hear you ! Unhappy woman ! you waste 
 your sentiment on one who does not really 
 care for you ! your words are eloquent, your 
 eyes, your beautiful lips speak while you 
 plead for him ! for him alone you have pity, 
 for my suffering you have none, by your 
 coldness you force me to seem harsh and 
 selfish. Oh divine Lisa, to see your foot on 
 this carpet, your beautiful presence in this 
 chamber has been my dream, and now you 
 are here and you come of your own accord — 
 this chamber is where I live most, my dark 
 solitary fancies fill it with your gloom, come 
 and lighten it with your presence ! if you are 
 once my wife all the music of Dresden will 
 be in your hands : you will move the hand 
 that moves your friend's fate,' he went on 
 with gestures suitable to his flowery speech. 
 ' I shall follow where you lead me, you
 
 248 ■ ALCESTIS 
 
 will learn to love me . . .' She had waited 
 breathlessly to hear one word that would 
 give her hope for Josquin ; he had forgotten 
 her petition in this declaration of his love, and 
 then her heart sunk with terror, and the 
 shame of having listened thus far patiently. 
 
 ' Pray, your Excellency, spare me this — 
 you said that I acted magnanimously in 
 coming to ask a favour of you : treat me so 
 too — only listen to my petition.' 
 
 He dropped her hands and drew back 
 coldly again into himself. 
 
 ' So you have no thought or wish for 
 anything but your friend's success ? ' 
 
 ' Only give me that and I will thank you 
 from the bottom of my heart.' 
 
 ' And if Dorioz should live to enjoy his 
 success, you will live for him as you are 
 serving him this day ? ' 
 
 'Your Excellency is mistaken,' she an- 
 swered, flushing angrily : * he and I have
 
 yOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 249 
 
 been as brother and sister from childhood. I 
 am acting to-day only as a sister to a dear 
 dying brother.' 
 
 ' And if I save his opera I shall win your 
 love, Lisa.'*' he went on, only lowering his 
 voice and looking more steadfastly at her. 
 
 She gave a slight shudder. She was 
 
 going to speak resolutely, but Josquin's 
 
 image at the conductor's desk came up before 
 
 her, his radiant face — she faltered for his 
 
 sake. 
 
 » 
 
 ' Who knows ? perhaps far off — but, Count 
 von Plauen, will you not for the sake of his 
 youth, for the sake of beauty, for your own 
 sake, alter your decision ? ' 
 
 ' Lisa, will you give me love for my love ? ' 
 he said quite low, looking close into her face ; 
 *when I have gained that then shall your 
 friend's opera be performed. Listen ! ' he 
 said, louder, as she turned to leave the room : 
 * you feel that you can never give up your
 
 248 ALCESTIS 
 
 will learn to love me . . .' She had waited 
 breathlessly to hear one word that would 
 give her hope for Josquin ; he had forgotten 
 her petition in this declaration of his love, and 
 then her heart sunk with terror, and the 
 shame of having listened thus far patiently. 
 
 ' Pray, your Excellency, spare me this — 
 you said that I acted magnanimously in 
 coming to ask a favour of you : treat me so 
 too — only listen to my petition.' 
 
 He dropped her hands and drew back 
 coldly again into himself. 
 
 ' So you have no thought or wish for 
 anything but your friend's success ? ' 
 
 ' Only give me that and I will thank you 
 from the bottom of my heart.' 
 
 ' And if Dorioz should live to enjoy his 
 success, you will live for him as you are 
 serving him this day ? ' 
 
 'Your Excellency is mistaken,' she an- 
 swered, flushing angrily : * he and I have
 
 JOSQUIN'S ADVOCATE 249 
 
 been as brother and sister from childhood. I 
 am acting to-day only as a sister to a dear 
 dying brother.' 
 
 * And if I save his opera I shall win your 
 love, Lisa?' he went on, only lowering his 
 voice and looking more steadfastly at her. 
 
 She gave a slight shudder. She was 
 going to speak resolutely, but Josquin's 
 image at the conductor's desk came up before 
 her, his radiant face — she faltered for his 
 sake. 
 
 * Who knows ? perhaps far off — but, Count 
 von Plauen, will you not for the sake of his 
 youth, for the sake of beauty, for your own 
 sake, alter your decision ? ' 
 
 * Lisa, will you give me love for my love } ' 
 he said quite low, looking close into her face ; 
 *when I have gained that then shall your 
 friend's opera be performed. Listen ! ' he 
 said, louder, as she turned to leave the room : 
 'you feel that you can never give up your
 
 252 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER IX, 
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY. 
 
 The lady who had written to von Plauen 
 urging her patronage in favour of Josquin's 
 opera Hved in a fashionable part of the town, 
 and gave small aesthetic reunions where she 
 and her chosen friends talked about the Soul 
 to excellent Dr. Ivanhoff, the affections of 
 the heart and their conjugal disappointments, 
 to the various philosophers, chiefly of the 
 encyclopedic school who visited them,' dis- 
 cussed music and poetry with senators, and 
 every imaginable subject with their chosen 
 musician Josquin Dorioz. 
 
 About a month after the interruption of
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY 253 
 
 his rehearsals, when he had disappeared from 
 among this agreeable society — Josquin 
 had given up playing in the orchestra, and 
 spite of all efforts not to be crushed by his 
 disappointment, had gradually under its 
 influence sunk into the life of an invalid — the 
 doctor would bring him many messages* and 
 assurances of interest sent by kind enquirers 
 from this amiable little world. One lady sent 
 rare flowers, another some words for a song, the 
 charming hostess herself an album, in which 
 she begged he would . write a few words : 
 * My boy, you will have them all here soon 
 to take care of you,' said Ivanhoff. ' I must 
 tell them, however, that they will have to 
 put off seeing you till next year, when you 
 can play to them again. What about your 
 departure to Naples ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you. Doctor, for talking about 
 next year, but I think it will be to see Naples 
 and die. Charles urges my going with him ;
 
 254 ALCESTIS 
 
 he is such a good fellow, and I shall be able 
 to work there, it will suit me well enough/ 
 
 ' That is well settled,' the Doctor said, 
 cheerfully ; ' you must avoid our cold winds 
 this spring, and come back to us in July. 
 Meanwhile, will you not give me an adieu to 
 these ladies ? they won't let you go without 
 leaving them some token.' 
 
 ' What can I do ? writing in an album is 
 such a poor substitute for playing them a tune. 
 Look here. Doctor, there are so many who 
 have been kind to me — if you will not let me 
 go out at night, will you let me give a little 
 entertainment here ? we might polish up the 
 boards for a dance.' 
 
 ' Oh, I do not sanction a dance, but if 
 you wish to fiddle to them again, there is no 
 reason why you should not invite a little 
 party to come here.' 
 
 * Yes, and Lisa will help the music ; and 
 with these festive flowers we can give an
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY 255 
 
 entertainment — the Capellmeisterin, too, it will 
 please. They have all done so much for me. 
 Before starting we will have a party.' 
 
 Their departure to Naples was a scheme 
 of Charles, whose splendour was now of sub- 
 stantial good to his cousin. 
 
 Charles was charming. He was enjoying 
 himself immensely in Dresden ; but deter- 
 mined to leave all his fun to take Josquin to 
 Italy, with the double hope of seeing him re- 
 cover and successfully bring out his works. 
 Josquin turned to him with relief, away from 
 the dreary Paradies ; and his presence ani- 
 mated him momentarily. With Lisa his ten- 
 derness and gentleness increased every day ; 
 but Lisa knew what he wanted to keep her 
 ignorant of — the overwhelmings of despon- 
 dency to which he gave way when alone, the 
 bitter regret with which he left the shadows of 
 his old hopes. Regenfurth, who had made 
 herself his nurse, and who used to go to him
 
 256 ALCESTIS 
 
 at all times, told her this ; but she needed 
 not to be told. The new works which he 
 had eagerly begun a month before under the 
 influence of his success, and which he now did 
 not seem to have inclination to finish, told 
 her plainly of his despair ; and she carried 
 about with her a dull fear at her heart — the 
 fear of facing an idea which, nevertheless, 
 seemed every day to grow in terrible distinct- 
 ness. At first she tried to keep hope, that In 
 the end all would be well, and that Josquin 
 would live to do without von Plauen's 
 interest ; but for one week past she had 
 ceased to hope. Everything seemed to be 
 hurrying on to a quick end. Her friend was 
 going away from her to Italy. Should she 
 ever see him again ? 
 
 But Lisa always did her best when with 
 Josquin to prevent his thoughts from 
 dwelling on himself, or the approaching 
 departure, and the proposal of the musical
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY 257 
 
 party at his rooms delighted her. And not 
 less interested was Regenfurth, when Josquin 
 asked her to see to lemonade, wax-candles, 
 and backerei, and zuckerei, at her discretion. 
 Faustina with much difficulty was persuaded 
 to come ; for she had given up going out ex- 
 cept to the opera. All the ladies from the 
 other end of the town accepted graciously, 
 excusing their husbands. Charles, of course, 
 was to come, and one or two of Josquin's 
 particular men friends, and Bleikopf, and 
 Paradies, and Anchio, were included at the 
 end of the list. 
 
 On the evening of his party, Josquin was 
 dressed with the old elegance. Regenfurth 
 liad pondered over every detail till she was 
 quite incapable of deciding on anything, and 
 <tnded by letting Josquin push about his own 
 furniture, and arrange everything, in delight 
 at the resolution he showed. Lisa, in her 
 own way, concentrated herself upon the 
 
 VOL. II. s
 
 258 ALCESTIS 
 
 music. She showed only active Interest to 
 Josquin, but to her heart the preparations 
 for the httle feast seemed to have all the 
 solemnity of a farewell, and this made her 
 miserable. But they did not speak of his 
 departure. 
 
 The lady who had sent the album 
 arrived in a cloud of blue with telling little 
 flaxen curls. She and all her friends were 
 charmed with the quaintness of the old 
 Klosterhaus, which once more was astonished 
 by the sight of painted chairs and liveries. 
 Charles made himself agreeable, and the 
 Doctor arrived ; but Josquin's other friends 
 were a little late, and the ladles talked In 
 subdued whispers. Paradles stood dejected 
 In the doorway, while Anchio and Bleikopf 
 took refuge with Regenfurth and made 
 * unendlich spass.' Presently In came Faus- 
 tina to warm them all with her beaming smile. 
 
 She said she was sixty that day, and 
 wanted to hear what music sounded like
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY 259 
 
 on her sixtieth birthday ; and they sang 
 and played the serenade which Josquin had 
 composed so many years before. When it 
 was over she said, ' That is the last serenade 
 I shall have had given me ; the first was in 
 Venice, when the Capellmeister was my lover 
 — it went so . . .' she said, sitting down to the 
 clavichord. ' Every night Hasse came and 
 sang it to me till the people next door listened, 
 and put down our music, and published it, 
 and there was an end to that serenading.' 
 
 'What are they listening to?' asked Para- 
 dies, who had taken refuge in the inner room. 
 * Hush, it is Faustina Hasse singing,' answered 
 Anchio. Quite soft and low she whispered to 
 the rippling measure of her accompaniment ; 
 it was a mere trifle, but you had Venice all 
 before you, the stilted young lover with his 
 guitar, the gracious lady answering— she 
 ended with a flute-like shake that made all 
 open their eyes, they crowded round to thank
 
 26o ALCESTIS 
 
 her. * Ah, you should have Hved ten years 
 sooner, and I would have sung for you a great 
 deal more,' she said, pressing Josquin's hand. 
 Then he played them some of their old 
 favourites of Bach and Veracini, and Lisa 
 sang. Charles, who had been enchanted with 
 Faustina, began to think the evening a little 
 solemn, and tried to enliven the lady In blue, 
 but in vain ; Josquin s aesthetic little friend 
 swam In high raptures, but soon these were 
 subdued ; a strange Interest and sympathy 
 seemed to bind together all assembled in the 
 little room, and If they were silent, none 
 desired anything than to listen to the lofty 
 and stirring music that raised their hearts to 
 all high and good thoughts. Then came the 
 time for Regenfurth's refreshments ; with 
 a charming grace the young host performed 
 his duties, and afterwards Faustina asked 
 him to play once more. If it would not 
 be too much for him, she said, he must give
 
 A LAST TEA-PARTY. 261 
 
 them something of his own to carry away 
 with them finally in their minds that night. 
 
 Lisa watched him from the dark corner 
 where she had taken refuge to listen ; he stood 
 up now to comply with Faustina's request. All 
 the evening she had hungrily listened to the 
 loved tones, the sound she loved best in the 
 world, and her eyes were not satisfied with 
 gazing at the features and form ever full of 
 new fascination for her. As she looked at 
 him now and listened, suddenly her whole 
 soul was lifted up and carried along by a great 
 flood of tenderness. Josquin had preluded 
 for a while on his instrument, when he burst 
 from uncertain indications into an air of 
 passionate pleading melody ; It was the same 
 that had betrayed once to Lisa his love for 
 Gecile, sounding on her in the night when he 
 rushed back to the Klosterhaus to be consoled 
 by his music : once it had told her of his return 
 to her, now It spoke of parting near at hand.
 
 262 ALCESTIS 
 
 He had introduced it in his overture which 
 she had never heard played. Josquin now 
 seemed to be pouring out all his force, and 
 each one who listened seemed to be moved 
 by his passion ; he looked once towards Lisa, 
 the hot tears were dropping on her cheeks, 
 the sobs would rise up. But the playing 
 ceased, and with the music the relief of tears 
 stopped. And the time for departing had 
 come ; the chairs were waiting to convey the 
 guests through the silent streets to their homes, 
 where they would take with them the remem- 
 brance of an evening spent as it were out of the 
 world. All were saying ' Lebwohl ' and ' Aufs 
 Wiedersehn,' but Lisa heard that Josquin 
 answered to all * Lebwohl,' and her heart was 
 oppressed almost by a physical weight of pain, 
 and she escaped with Regenfurth unable to 
 say a word of farewell.
 
 >63 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 All that night Lisa did not cease to hear 
 the air of the overture to Josquin's opera 
 crying out with the sorrow at her heart, speak- 
 ing the passionate tenderness of her love, 
 her overwhelming dismay at parting. All 
 was over ; the end was incompletion ; with 
 hopes all unfulfilled, he left the life they had 
 shared, the place of his inspirations, in despair, 
 without hope of returning ! Then it seemed 
 to her that the music she strove to shut out 
 became a prayer, it pleaded, it reproached — 
 was it all really over, was not there something 
 left undone ? All was confusion in her
 
 264 ALCESTIS 
 
 thoughts during the hours of the night, 
 when the stillness of darkness add to the ex- 
 citement of the brain ; but when the morning 
 came she felt that her thoughts must be shaped, 
 that the question, which she had so long put 
 aside, had once been asked and now must be 
 answered. Could she not procure for Josquin 
 the happiness of hearing his work before 
 leaving, give him the assurance that his music 
 was saved before he died ? There was the idea 
 clear before her that she shrank from realis- 
 ing before, and she sat up suddenly on her 
 bed facing the question with a strong im- 
 pulse ... at the price of making Josquin 
 happy before he went, would it be difficult to 
 marry the Hof Intendant ? 
 
 At that moment with such a great decision 
 before her to make, strangely enough Lisa's 
 course seemed to her only too plain ; an idea 
 had taken full possession of her, and she felt 
 herself that she was bringing to it a sufficiently
 
 ALCESTIS 265 
 
 calm mind, the love that filled her heart seemed 
 to take away from her all power of reasoning. 
 It is told as a miracle of a gentle saint by 
 his biographer that for a space of years before 
 his death he never drew a breath without a 
 mental intention of love to God ; we, too, in 
 the world have seen some such wonders of 
 love and devotion working every day in 
 hearts not frittered away by its distractions, 
 one woman's absorption in her first-born, 
 another's love for him who seems to her the 
 best thing she knows — Avho shall say that 
 such affection is illusion, infatuation, it 
 seems the highest that life can offer man, 
 whose true happiness is not pleasure, or know- 
 ledge, or power, but love, and adoration, and 
 when slaking life's daily thirst at such rills, he 
 seems nearest to approach the very fount and 
 source of love ? It was this sort of devotion 
 that made Lisa's sacrifice seem only too easy 
 to her. Hers was the simple nature, like
 
 266 ALCESTIS 
 
 a rare stone's that Is cut with a plain surface, 
 not in many facets reflecting the same thing 
 in many ways, manifold and complex ; she 
 was clear as crystal, broad and simple in her 
 judgments. Now she knew only this ; 
 Josquin was dying, and with her, perhaps, it 
 lay to prolong his life, at least to give him 
 happiness before the end ; when he was gone 
 would not this be her one comforting memory 
 when life would have no satisfaction left, 
 when her art, her success, would have become 
 nothing to her ? His Image would always be 
 with her, as it was now, patient, sweet, 
 animating all who came near him, still cling- 
 ing to life, but, as she knew, sickening with 
 despair, when only Regenfurth observed 
 him. 
 
 And oh ! was not she the cause of his 
 failure and disappointment ? what perpetual 
 reproach would haunt her if she let him go 
 thus ! And she rose up with a sudden
 
 ALCESTIS 267 
 
 impulse . . . perhaps it would be too late ! 
 Von Plauen might reject her sacrifice ; unbear- 
 able thought ! she must go at once, promise 
 him faithfulness and constancy ; why had she 
 delayed so long when it was the one thing 
 she could do for Josquin ? 
 
 But Lisa knew that so far she had put 
 this thing from her as impossible, and now 
 that she saw it so clearly as her duty she must 
 not rush hastily into it ; thinking was pain, but 
 she must force herself to look into the gloomy 
 realities of the sacrifice that had so strange 
 an allurement for her. It was not only her 
 liberty, it was her art, her beloved daily work 
 which she would have to give up to von 
 Plauen. She dressed herself and went out 
 into the morning to gather her thoughts to- 
 gether, to see if there was no way of escape. 
 That music in her ears pleads with her, and 
 she must find out what was to be done. 
 
 The winter morning shone bright and
 
 268 A LC EST IS 
 
 clear. It was Sunday, and the bells rang all 
 over the town ; the people smiled holiday, 
 which had begun for them hours ago, for they 
 had already had their coffee, and morning 
 concert ; the faces of the little children were 
 burnished as they looked up at the tall woman 
 passing them by with grave looks and troubled 
 eyes. She was contemplating a strange vision 
 of marriage which came to her in garments of 
 mourning and terrible pall. Marriage had 
 never been to Lisa what it is to other girls ; it 
 was indeed the purely conventional aspect that 
 it always presented to her mind that made 
 her think little now of von Plauen's feelings ; 
 she knew that she would fulfil her duty to 
 him, save him from his life of egotism perhaps, 
 conscientiously fulfil his bond. But even as 
 she promised herself this, the dreariness of it 
 all came over her, the contrast with the life to 
 which she thought she had been called — to give 
 up now her whole will to the man who did her
 
 ALCESTIS 269 
 
 such a great wrong, to exchange this for the 
 vocation she had dreamt, to have no more a 
 pubHc to Hve for, her beloved art to serve, but 
 one passion only to satisfy, one strong will to 
 submit to. And she looked out on the world 
 of sunshine, from the bridge, where, with the 
 usual impulse to look over on the rushing 
 flood, she had stopped, and realising the 
 bitterness of the fate that made such havoc of 
 her life, she could have cried out under her 
 burden to One above to right His wearied 
 wicked . world. Across the water the Hof- 
 Kirche bells were clanging, they were calling 
 the weary and heavy-laden, and bright Sunday 
 holiday faces were obeying their summons ; as 
 an old woman passed with her book, Lisa 
 instinctively followed, and entered the church, 
 already filled with a crowd listening to the 
 sermon before the Mass, and knelt and hid 
 her face by the door. 
 
 The High Altar was being prepared
 
 270 ALCESTIS 
 
 while the preacher, a Benedictine monk, 
 concluded his sermon. Lisa felt as though 
 she had no need of a preacher ; but the monk 
 had the ordinary impassioned gesture and 
 style of his order, and held his audience in 
 thrall, and in the fervent tones there was 
 something that reached her soul, as they 
 wailed through the church ; suddenly she 
 heard the concluding words ; like the rest of 
 the sermon they breathed the spirit of the 
 whole Catholic Church. 
 
 * Beloved, when we want to speak we 
 must be silent, when we want to be alone 
 we must seek mortification in the contrary 
 tempers of others, when we want to be filled 
 we must hunger and thirst, when we lust 
 after life, and sensation, and knowledge, we 
 must annihilate ourselves, and humiliate our 
 vain intellects — so only in small things to learn 
 the great things of life, the lesson that turn 
 where we will we must be met with, that
 
 ALCESJIS 271 
 
 sooner or later each one must learn for him- 
 self. Renunciation ! it is the law of life ! it is 
 written in letters of fire in God s own heavens, 
 it is expressed in groanings and travailings 
 from all nature that appears so smiling ; 
 it is taught in the world for all its light- 
 hearted scorn. Even there, sooner or later, 
 it comes to each one In death and disease, 
 and in the unstableness of life. It is the dread 
 necessity of suffering which is the mystery of 
 life ! where shall we find the key to it ? 
 From every carven niche what do the saints 
 cry out to us ? from blackened stakes and 
 dark dungeons what is the martyrs' cry but 
 Calvary ! Calvary ! and from our hearts comes 
 the response, the cry of our crucified wills, 
 the Calvary within us ! Beloved ! will you 
 learn the lesson of renunciation where the 
 saints have learnt it, or will you wait till to 
 each in turn, life will teach It In Its cruel 
 partings, its unsatisfactoriness, Its Inevitable
 
 272 ALCESTIS 
 
 death ? There on the Altar prepared for its 
 Lord's descent you will find the only solution 
 to life's mystery ! No sacrifice ! no Sacra- 
 ment ! Willing or unwilling, we must all 
 renounce. Here alone is the sanctification 
 of sacrifice ! Now when you meet your 
 Lord at His Altar, bow your head and will, 
 resolve to live the life, and unite yourself to 
 the mystery that has been ordained from the 
 foundation of the world, and is now made 
 manifest in Jesus Christ.' 
 
 As he passionately spoke the words ' No 
 sacrifice, no sacrament!' he turned towards 
 the altar where the lights shone in readiness. 
 And now the organ raised devotion in many 
 hearts ; and as the solemn Kyrie was wafted 
 along the nave, Lisa's conflict was merged 
 into one great aspiration; all around her rose, 
 and sat or knelt again with the different 
 parts of the service, but she knelt on. For 
 her was not yet the song of praise, for the 
 conflict was not over ; no epistle or lesson
 
 ALCESTIS 273 
 
 did she read, for the Inner voice was strong. 
 Et mcarnatus et homo f actus est. There 
 was one poor soul in the church that day 
 who felt the law of sacrifice one with her 
 loving and humbled heart. 
 
 The mass was ended, and the organ 
 pealed out, the people departed with a 
 great shuffling, and she stood outside with 
 the same questions as before pressing on 
 her ; but the words of the monk seemed in 
 their sternness to give the answer to them 
 all. When she wanted to be silent, she 
 would be obliged to speak ; when she would 
 crave for sympathy she must hold her 
 tongue ; when she wanted to weep she would 
 have to smile ; well, and if she did not volun- 
 tarily give herself to this life of small sacrifice, 
 did not necessity impose it upon her now 
 when she was losing Josquin ? Love gave 
 her the impulse now ; love would support her 
 In carrying out the sacrifice, and even to him 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 274 ALCESTIS 
 
 also who inflicted it upon her it would be 
 turned to good account. 
 
 As Lisa returned towards home she saw 
 clearer and clearer what lay before her to do ; 
 there was no time to be lost, and she must 
 have done with conflict, and not shrink in 
 her sacrifice. First, she must be as honest 
 as she could with von Plauen ; she knew 
 that her openness had never driven him 
 back, and even for Josquin's sake now she 
 must affect nothing with him she did not 
 feel ; she would show him that she was ready 
 to renounce her profession In marrying him, 
 and to submit her will to his for all her life. 
 Then she would require of him a sacrifice in 
 return ; he must let her take her farewell to the 
 stage in Josquin's opera, and Immediately find 
 a pretext for putting it into rehearsal again. 
 It would be no small thing to ask for, but 
 afterwards a life's docility would repay him ! 
 
 Poor Elisabetha ! she does well to resolve 
 to act quickly ; not to dwell in mistrust on
 
 I 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 275 
 
 her excitable nature, and impatient moods, 
 so little fitted to the life of conventionality 
 she will have to follow. She does well to 
 turn for strength to the thought of happiness 
 still remaining for her in the joy of giving 
 his success to Josquin, of working for it, 
 whilst once more singing for him. She 
 needs to be strong in her purpose, for 
 almost alone she must act It out ; and how 
 unherolc, how difficult Is action ! Alcestls, 
 inspired by love, lays her tender body down 
 by the side of her husband to wait for death ; 
 this poor Alcestis may not lie passive, 
 though death itself would seem to her now 
 welcome rest. She must return home at 
 once, and looking round on all she has loved 
 so long with the bitterness of farewell, take 
 pen, ink and paper with all fear of being too 
 late to write to Count von Plauen that she is 
 willing to be his wife. 
 
 T2
 
 276 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 STARLIGHT. 
 
 Once more at the theatre — where should 
 this history end better than at its door ? — after 
 the curtain has fallen, and when the lights 
 are being extinguished, after the play. Jos- 
 quln's opera has just been performed, and 
 the true actors are now coming out under 
 the stars which best illuminate their play, 
 because it Is human and divine, and has 
 the world and its life for limits of time and 
 space. Lisa's love has done its work, her 
 strong purpose has wrought calmly all that 
 she desired with the passion and perception 
 of a strong impulse. Her bargain has been 
 accepted a month before by von Plauen, and 
 all that Josquin knows of it is that by a
 
 STARLIGHT i-j-j 
 
 sudden caprice the Hof-Intendant has altered 
 his mind, and allowed the production of his 
 * Alcestls ; ' that as it were In a dream he has 
 just heard his music and her performance 
 crowned with success ; and that the end has 
 now come, for he is leaving with Charles for. 
 the south on the following day, as his only 
 hope of life. 
 
 Josquin never knew what Lisa had done 
 for him ; and yet by a sort of instinct now 
 after the excitement and the rapture, as they 
 come out of the dim ghostly theatre, which 
 an hour before resounded with their names 
 called together by an enthusiastic crowd, 
 he was scarcely conscious of anything but' 
 Lis^, and she too seemed to feel that he 
 hung upon her, and was strong and calm 
 above her usual j)owers. Perhaps it was 
 Paradies who had been most excited by the 
 performance. He was coming out of the 
 theatre now, trembling from head to foot. 
 When the composer s name had been calle*^
 
 278 A LC EST IS 
 
 for, he had nearly precipitated himself 
 upon the stage ; and he had hung- about 
 poor Josquin's neck, till the Doctor (who 
 faithfully watched over his patient all the 
 evening), reminded him of his want of 
 dignity. Charles was there too ; he had been 
 hard at work clapping — rushing from one 
 part to the other of the theatre in wild spirits 
 and back to the composer's side between the 
 acts, to cheer him with accounts of the 
 general enthusiasm. And Faustina had been 
 there . . . thrilled through and through with 
 hope and fear ; and breaking down in 
 tears, as she sate in her box, forgetful even 
 to watch the tide of rising enthusiasm in the 
 suffrage given to her darling by the public. 
 Hasse had been there, solemnly listening, 
 drinking in the music that he loved and was 
 proud of, more than he said — little disturbed 
 by the emotions of those around him. And 
 there, too, had been von Plauen. Ivanhoff 
 for a moment had been by his side, and
 
 
 STARLIGHT 279 
 
 heard him mutter between his Hps : ' Only 
 one night of this . . . and then one night 
 less will there be to the end of it all.' But 
 Ivanhoff had not remained lone in the 
 theatre : he felt that he could not sit still and 
 contemplate this Alcestis, knowing all her 
 history ; for only he in all the theatre knew 
 that this woman who was pouring out her 
 whole soul on the stage in her friend's opera 
 was von Plauen's wife — that she had at this 
 price, a month before, bought his success for 
 the composer, and that after making her 
 decision, Lisa had, with the Doctor as sole 
 witness, been secretly married to the Count. 
 The union was to be publicly declared at 
 the end of the season, when Lisa should 
 leave the stage. Thus had she contrived 
 that Josquin should not know of her sacrifice. 
 It had been impossible for him not to observe 
 that she saw more of the Count than before. 
 He felt sure that she allowed his visits for his 
 sake. He had even once implored her to
 
 28o ALCESTIS 
 
 make no effort for him. . . . but through 
 all these months in spite of interruptions, in 
 spite of her secret anguish, when together, 
 their intercourse had been perfect. He 
 seemed to have gone beyond their common 
 life, and in the twilight of the valley of death 
 Lisa could show him her love as she could 
 not before. Now he was going, and 
 in his weakness and sorrow he clung to 
 her with utter reliance and tenderness. He 
 would only hear of what she had done for 
 him under other skies. 
 
 It could not be otherwise ; he could not 
 have known any of the exquisite pleasure 
 he had tasted that night — of which Lisa's 
 sacrifice was the price — if he had known that 
 to it he owed the success of his work. He 
 had seen his ' Alcestis ' on the stage, little 
 dreaming that he himself was the unhappy 
 Admetus. All the delight he had known in 
 the first full rehearsal had returned to him just 
 now — the first signs of coldness and oppo-
 
 STARLIGHT 281 
 
 sition in the audience had overcome him 
 very much, but the applause secured by the 
 many genuine admirers of his work, who 
 came determined to over-ride the prejudice 
 of von Plauen's party, had added strangely 
 little to his satisfaction. That was the rare 
 satisfaction of the poet by the side of which 
 criticism is as a dull and tame farm-fowl to 
 the lark at heaven's gate. To the artist the 
 criticism is honourable — but to the man it is 
 wholly powerless. The satisfaction that 
 made Josquin dull to praise, had caused him 
 to completely break down in the finale of 
 long prolonged major chords — he had wept 
 like a child. Strung up by the excitement 
 of conducting, when he reached these 
 chords, a sudden happiness took hold of 
 him, as though the very sum of it all were in 
 the triumphant key-note ; he felt a sense of 
 the perfect equilibrium of things, in love with 
 all the joy and sorrow of life, and like another 
 Ganymede he was ready to soar upward to
 
 282 ALCESTIS 
 
 the Father of all life. But the last chord was 
 done, the"^ rapture was over, the colours had 
 all passed away from his eyes and with the 
 relaxation of his high tension, he gave way 
 and hid his head helpless on the desk. — 
 
 And now they all come out of the theatre, 
 and the sound of rolling wheels and the 
 footsteps of the last lingerers are faint in the 
 distance, and it is night, and starlight and 
 solemn peace. The air is cool and grateful, 
 the few lights from the bridge twinkle in the 
 black river. Indeed, the spangled heaven 
 above speaks to their hearts, stirred by emo- 
 tions and raised by the love of the beautiful. 
 
 ^ The stars are illuminating for you, my 
 boy,' Ivanhoff said, as he began to put the 
 Capellmeisterin, into the chair in which Hasse 
 already was seated, waiting. 
 
 ' Yes, it is the grand concert of the 
 heavens that has begun now. And why 
 should we box ourselves up in stuffy things 
 on such a night ? ' Faustina said : ' thank you,
 
 STARLIGHT 283 
 
 dear Doctor ; for my part I shall walk home 
 to-night if you will accompany me.' 
 
 ' Faustina, what madness ! for you and for 
 the boy, you both want to kill yourselves,' 
 called out Hasse : * look at him, star-gazing as 
 usual.' This was interrupted by his being 
 helplessly carried off by the porters obeying 
 a gesture of Faustina's, and the chair came 
 home without her, and nobody interfered 
 with her nor with Josquin, who assured them 
 all that the evening quiet would be the best 
 thing for him. Ivanhoff secured the Capell- 
 meisterin, Paradies stepped forward to offer 
 Lisa his arm, but with one accord all com- 
 bined to ask him to fetch their forgotten 
 wraps from the theatre, and when he came 
 back Lisa had gone on with Josquin, and 
 he was obliged to give his arm to Regen- 
 furth. Lisa's arm was in Josquin's arm, 
 her hand in his hand, and in silence they 
 walked along ; and thus they reached the 
 Capellmeister's house, where they must part.
 
 284 ALCESTIS 
 
 ' My divine Alcestls/ he said, holding and 
 pressing her hand ; * dearest Lisa — you alone, 
 alone — for ever and ever.' 
 
 The Capellmeisterin came up from behind. 
 * Oh, Josquin ! what a beautiful night this 
 has been for us,' she said ; ' look up there, I 
 find I do not get tired of that or any other 
 harmony. Good-night, children — yes cover 
 me up warm ; I grow old, and want your 
 loving care. Good-night' She went into 
 the house ; Josquin walked away with the 
 doctor and Charles ; Elisabetha stood alone on 
 the doorstep looking up at the night. Who 
 shall say what filled her heart as she remained 
 alone with Josquin's whisper still in her ear. 
 It was like a sudden leap of light and then 
 darkness, the joy, the delight were past for 
 evermore, the suffering lay all before her. 
 The solemn night received the great sigh she 
 breathed into it, but something said. Peace ; 
 an answer from the stars.
 
 28: 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Of Love and renouncing — of death and de- 
 parting, who shall tell us that we may not 
 speak in a world of failing sad men's hearts ? 
 Is there no divine good in grief that we 
 should turn our eyes to the lives of fulfilled 
 hope and happiness from beholding those in 
 which to love and suffer pain appears to be 
 law, into which the capacity for the one is 
 borne with the capacity for the other ? and 
 yet wherever such suffering hearts have 
 crossed our path, we instinctively find for 
 them a blessing — their throes and pangs we 
 feel still help the birth of the better man, — 
 we cling to their teaching, we bless their pain. 
 But if we have told of Sacrifice and its loving 
 impulses — Death we pass silently by, for it
 
 286 ALCESTIS 
 
 is the great silent mystery over each man's 
 life, beyond and around which each man for 
 himself interprets the unspeakable Hope. 
 
 The cold spring winds that the doctor had 
 dreaded were over, and the lilacs once more 
 made the little garden of the Klosterhaus 
 sweet ; but no change of season brought J osquin 
 back to his rooms on the high fourth floor. 
 The inhabitants came and went as usual, and 
 rose and struggled and served their different 
 publics ; and from them had passed for 
 ever Lisa, who had lived her life so fully 
 there. 
 
 The news of J osquin s death reached her 
 only a month after the performance of the 
 * Alcestis.' He and Charles had not got 
 farther than Meran when the end came very 
 suddenly. The letters he wrote to her were 
 addressed to the Klosterhaus, and they only 
 spoke of her and her plans, and begged her 
 to tell him more about herself (for each only
 
 CONCLUSION 287 
 
 mentioned the other in their letters). Thus 
 had Charles faithfully shielded Josquin from 
 the pain of hearing the cost of his opera, 
 although her marriage was now known in 
 Dresden. 
 
 And it was Charles himself who brought 
 her the news of his death, with a sort of 
 journal that he had addressed to her since 
 their separation. It spoke of the beauty he 
 saw ; of his and Charles's daily life ; he des- 
 cribed his open window at beautiful Meran, 
 the blue sky, the blue Perugino mountain 
 opposite, the Corpus Christi procession going 
 by in the street below, with soldiers bringing 
 up the rear, their band bursting with ' God 
 save the Emperor ! ' ' Lisa, do you remember 
 my first conversion with the soldier s march ? 
 cest encore ce que faime le mieux ' — he wrote 
 in French. He had scarcely added anything 
 more ; von Plauen read his wife's corre- 
 spondence, but he found no fault with these
 
 288 ALCESTIS 
 
 descriptive pages. Every word to Lisa had 
 a deep and hidden meaning. 
 
 Eleven years afterwards the castle at 
 Teplitz was still von Plauen's favourite 
 residence, when fashionable water-drinkers 
 began to wonder at the power which it was 
 said his wife still held over him. It was not 
 often they had an opportunity of criticising 
 her, but sometimes the early bathers, taking 
 their daily round in the neighbouring park, 
 would meet her walking, attired with complete 
 disregard for the becoming, or they would 
 see her opening, with little graciousness, some 
 entertainment at the public rooms. Even 
 those who had felt her power as the singer 
 Lisa Vaara, would think her temper and 
 manner a drawback in private life Had 
 the trial been too much for this poor 
 Alcestis ? In small troubles we believe Lisa 
 could vent her impatience, her deep grief she 
 kept to herself, and her heart v/as not hard- 
 ened.
 
 CONCLUSION .289 
 
 From the life of Teplltz she was saved 
 some years after her marriage, when von 
 Plauen lost a large fortune in a sudden 
 passion for playing. Then Lisa came back 
 to the stage and once more was great and 
 rich by her talent. The Klosterhaus she 
 purchased for her own use, and it was turned 
 into an asylum for old musicians, with a wing 
 devoted to young beginning artists. Regen- 
 furth was instituted as matron, and used to 
 get into great scrapes for laxity about her 
 charges' attendance at sermon and Sunday 
 morning prayers. 
 
 Paradies became a fashionable preacher, 
 and fulminated in the Hof-KIrche, but Lisa 
 would not let him hold forth in the chapel 
 she had restored at the Klosterhaus. She 
 preferred the comfort of an old Lutheran 
 pastor, with whom she spent many hours of 
 counsel. 
 
 VOL. II. U
 
 290 ALCESTIS 
 
 Charles made a brilliant match, and in- 
 herited soon after, the great Vienna man- 
 sion. His two boys were looking through 
 the treasures of the old lumber-room, at the 
 top, when the youngest came upon a child's 
 violin in its case, on which was inscribed in a 
 large hdiXid-y^nlmg S^raphine', the little fellow 
 got permission to have it, and the old house 
 once more resounded to the music of a little 
 violin. 
 
 THE KNJ^ 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 SI'OTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 
 fiC
 
 ^
 
 I