Isometimeswonderwhethersheisnotglad。Freshassheisatitall，I’veoccasionallyfanciedthat，ifsheknewhow，shewouldliketo——diminish。"HemovedhislefthandoutintotheairasifheweresuggestingaDIMINUENDOtoanorchestra。
V
BYthefirstofFebruaryTheahadbeeninChicagoal—
mostfourmonths，andshedidnotknowmuchmoreaboutthecitythanifshehadneverquittedMoonstone。
Shewas，asHarsanyisaid，incurious。Herworktookmostofhertime，andshefoundthatshehadtosleepagooddeal。Ithadneverbeforebeensohardtogetupinthemorning。Shehadthebotherofcaringforherroom，andshehadtobuildherfireandbringuphercoal。HerroutinewasfrequentlyinterruptedbyamessagefromMr。Larsensummoninghertosingatafuneral。Everyfuneraltookhalfaday，andthetimehadtobemadeup。WhenMrs。
Harsanyiaskedherifitdidnotdepresshertosingatfu—
nerals，sherepliedthatshe"hadbeenbroughtuptogotofuneralsanddidn’tmind。"
Theaneverwentintoshopsunlessshehadto，andshefeltnointerestinthem。Indeed，sheshunnedthem，asplaceswhereonewassuretobepartedfromone’smoneyinsomeway。Shewasnervousaboutcountingherchange，andshecouldnotaccustomherselftohavingherpurchasessenttoheraddress。Shefeltmuchsaferwithherbundlesunderherarm。
DuringthisfirstwinterTheagotnocityconsciousness。
Chicagowassimplyawildernessthroughwhichonehadtofindone’sway。Shefeltnointerestinthegeneralbrisknessandzestofthecrowds。Thecrashandscrambleofthatbig，rich，appetentWesterncityshedidnottakeinatall，excepttonoticethatthenoiseofthedraysandstreet—carstiredher。Thebrilliantwindowdisplays，thesplendidfursandstuffs，thegorgeousflower—shops，thegaycandy—shops，shescarcelynoticed。AtChristmas—timeshedidfeelsomecuriosityaboutthetoy—stores，andshewishedsheheld
Thor’slittlemittenedfistinherhandasshestoodbeforethewindows。Thejewelers’windows，too，hadastrongattractionforher——shehadalwayslikedbrightstones。
Whenshewentintothecitysheusedtobravethebitinglakewindsandstandgazinginatthedisplaysofdiamondsandpearlsandemeralds；thetiarasandnecklacesandear—
rings，onwhitevelvet。Theseseemedverywellworthwhiletoher，thingsworthcoveting。
Mrs。LorchandMrs。AndersenoftentoldeachotheritwasstrangethatMissKronborghadsolittleinitiativeabout"visitingpointsofinterest。"WhenTheacametolivewiththemshehadexpressedawishtoseetwoplaces：MontgomeryWardandCompany’sbigmail—orderstore，andthepacking—houses，towhichallthehogsandcattlethatwentthroughMoonstonewerebound。OneofMrs。Lorch’slodgersworkedinapacking—house，andMrs。AndersenbroughtTheawordthatshehadspokentoMr。EckmanandhewouldgladlytakehertoPacking—
town。EckmanwasatoughishyoungSwede，andhethoughtitwouldbesomethingofalarktotakeaprettygirlthroughtheslaughter—houses。Buthewasdisap—
pointed。Theaneithergrewfaintnorclungtothearmhekeptofferingher。Sheaskedinnumerablequestionsandwasimpatientbecauseheknewsolittleofwhatwasgoingonoutsideofhisowndepartment。Whentheygotoffthestreet—carandwalkedbacktoMrs。Lorch’shouseinthedusk，Eckmanputherhandinhisovercoatpocket——shehadnomuff——andkeptsqueezingitardentlyuntilshesaid，"Don’tdothat；myringcutsme。"Thatnighthetoldhisroommatethathe"couldhavekissedheraseasyasrollingoffalog，butshewasn’tworththetrouble。"AsforThea，shehadenjoyedtheafternoonverymuch，andwroteherfatherabriefbutclearaccountofwhatshehadseen。
OnenightatsupperMrs。Andersenwastalkingabouttheexhibitofstudents’workshehadseenattheArtIn—
stitutethatafternoon。Severalofherfriendshadsketchesintheexhibit。Thea，whoalwaysfeltthatshewasbe—
hindhandincourtesytoMrs。Andersen，thoughtthatherewasanopportunitytoshowinterestwithoutcommittingherselftoanything。"Whereisthat，theInstitute？"sheaskedabsently。
Mrs。Andersenclaspedhernapkininbothhands。"TheArtInstitute？OurbeautifulArtInstituteonMichiganAvenue？Doyoumeantosayyouhavenevervisitedit？"
"Oh，isittheplacewiththebiglionsoutinfront？I
remember；IsawitwhenIwenttoMontgomeryWard’s。
Yes，Ithoughtthelionswerebeautiful。"
"Butthepictures！Didn’tyouvisitthegalleries？"
"No。Thesignoutsidesaiditwasapay—day。I’veal—
waysmeanttogoback，butIhaven’thappenedtobedownthatwaysince。"
Mrs。LorchandMrs。Andersenlookedateachother。
Theoldmotherspoke，fixinghershininglittleeyesuponTheaacrossthetable。"Ah，butMissKronborg，thereareoldmasters！Oh，manyofthem，suchasyoucouldnotseeanywhereoutofEurope。"
"AndCorots，"breathedMrs。Andersen，tiltingherheadfeelingly。"SuchexamplesoftheBarbizonschool！"
ThiswasmeaninglesstoThea，whodidnotreadtheartcolumnsoftheSundayINTER—OCEANasMrs。Andersendid。
"Oh，I’mgoingtheresomeday，"shereassuredthem。
"Iliketolookatoilpaintings。"
OnebleakdayinFebruary，whenthewindwasblow—
ingcloudsofdirtlikeaMoonstonesandstorm，dirtthatfilledyoureyesandearsandmouth，TheafoughtherwayacrosstheunprotectedspaceinfrontoftheArtInstituteandintothedoorsofthebuilding。Shedidnotcomeoutagainuntiltheclosinghour。Inthestreet—car，onthelongcoldridehome，whileshesatstaringatthewaistcoatbut—
tonsofafatstrap—hanger，shehadaseriousreckoningwithherself。Sheseldomthoughtaboutherwayoflife，about
whatsheoughtoroughtnottodo；usuallytherewasbutoneobviousandimportantthingtobedone。Butthatafternoonsheremonstratedwithherselfseverely。Shetoldherselfthatshewasmissingagreatdeal；thatsheoughttobemorewillingtotakeadviceandtogotoseethings。ShewassorrythatshehadletmonthspasswithoutgoingtotheArtInstitute。Afterthisshewouldgoonceaweek。
TheInstituteproved，indeed，aplaceofretreat，asthesandhillsortheKohlers’gardenusedtobe；aplacewhereshecouldforgetMrs。Andersen’stiresomeoverturesoffriendship，thestoutcontraltointhechoirwhomshesounreasonablyhated，andeven，foralittlewhile，thetormentofherwork。Thatbuildingwasaplaceinwhichshecouldrelaxandplay，andshecouldhardlyeverplaynow。Onthewhole，shespentmoretimewiththecaststhanwiththepictures。Theywereatoncemoresimpleandmoreperplexing；andsomewaytheyseemedmoreimportant，hardertooverlook。Itneveroccurredtohertobuyacatalogue，soshecalledmostofthecastsbynamesshemadeupforthem。Someofthemsheknew；theDyingGladiatorshehadreadaboutin"ChildeHarold"almostaslongagoasshecouldremember；hewasstronglyas—
sociatedwithDr。Archieandchildishillnesses。TheVenusdiMilopuzzledher；shecouldnotseewhypeoplethoughthersobeautiful。ShetoldherselfoverandoverthatshedidnotthinktheApolloBelvedere"atallhandsome。"
Betterthananythingelseshelikedagreatequestrianstatueofanevil，cruel—lookinggeneralwithanunpro—
nounceablename。Sheusedtowalkroundandroundthisterriblemanandhisterriblehorse，frowningathim，brood—
inguponhim，asifshehadtomakesomemomentousde—
cisionabouthim。
Thecasts，whenshelingeredlongamongthem，alwaysmadehergloomy。Itwaswithalighteningoftheheart，afeelingofthrowingofftheoldmiseriesandoldsorrowsoftheworld，thatsheranupthewidestaircasetothepic—
tures。Thereshelikedbesttheonesthattoldstories。
TherewasapaintingbyGeromecalled"ThePasha’sGrief"whichalwaysmadeherwishforGunnerandAxel。
ThePashawasseatedonarug，besideagreencandleal—
mostasbigasatelegraphpole，andbeforehimwasstretchedhisdeadtiger，asplendidbeast，andtherewerepinkrosesscatteredabouthim。Sheloved，too，apictureofsomeboysbringinginanewborncalfonalitter，thecowwalkingbesideitandlickingit。TheCorotwhichhungnexttothispaintingshedidnotlikeordislike；sheneversawit。
Butinthatsameroomtherewasapicture——oh，thatwasthethingsheranupstairssofasttosee！Thatwasherpicture。Sheimaginedthatnobodycaredforitbutherself，andthatitwaitedforher。Thatwasapicturein—
deed。Shelikedeventhenameofit，"TheSongoftheLark。"Theflatcountry，theearlymorninglight，thewetfields，thelookinthegirl’sheavyface——well，theywereallhers，anyhow，whateverwasthere。Shetoldherselfthatthatpicturewas"right。"Justwhatshemeantbythis，itwouldtakeacleverpersontoexplain。Buttoherthewordcoveredthealmostboundlesssatisfactionshefeltwhenshelookedatthepicture。
BeforeTheahadanyideahowfasttheweekswerefly—
ing，beforeMr。Larsen’s"permanent"sopranohadre—
turnedtoherduties，springcame；windy，dusty，strident，shrill；aseasonalmostmoreviolentinChicagothanthewinterfromwhichitreleasesone，ortheheattowhichiteventuallydeliversone。OnesunnymorningtheappletreesinMrs。Lorch’sbackyardburstintobloom，andforthefirsttimeinmonthsTheadressedwithoutbuildingafire。Themorningshonelikeaholiday，andforheritwastobeaholiday。Therewasintheairthatsudden，treacher—
oussoftnesswhichmakesthePoleswhoworkinthepack—
ing—housesgetdrunk。Atsuchtimesbeautyisnecessary，andinPackingtownthereisnoplacetogetitexceptatthe
saloons，whereonecanbuyforafewhourstheillusionofcomfort，hope，love，——whateveronemostlongsfor。
HarsanyihadgivenTheaaticketforthesymphonyconcertthatafternoon，andwhenshelookedoutatthewhiteappletreesherdoubtsastowhethersheoughttogovanishedatonce。Shewouldmakeherworklightthatmorning，shetoldherself。Shewouldgototheconcertfullofenergy。Whenshesetoff，afterdinner，Mrs。Lorch，whoknewChicagoweather，prevaileduponhertotakehercape。Theoldladysaidthatsuchsuddenmildness，soearlyinApril，presagedasharpreturnofwinter，andshewasanxiousaboutherappletrees。
Theconcertbeganattwo—thirty，andTheawasinherseatintheAuditoriumattenminutesaftertwo——afineseatinthefirstrowofthebalcony，ontheside，whereshecouldseethehouseaswellastheorchestra。Shehadbeentosofewconcertsthatthegreathouse，thecrowdofpeople，andthelights，allhadastimulatingeffect。Shewassurprisedtoseesomanymenintheaudience，andwonderedhowtheycouldleavetheirbusinessintheafter—
noon。DuringthefirstnumberTheawassomuchinter—
estedintheorchestraitself，inthemen，theinstruments，thevolumeofsound，thatshepaidlittleattentiontowhattheywereplaying。Herexcitementimpairedherpoweroflistening。Shekeptsayingtoherself，"NowImuststopthisfoolishnessandlisten；Imayneverhearthisagain"；buthermindwaslikeaglassthatishardtofocus。Shewasnotreadytolistenuntilthesecondnum—
ber，Dvorak’sSymphonyinEminor，calledonthepro—
gramme，"FromtheNewWorld。"Thefirstthemehadscarcelybeengivenoutwhenhermindbecameclear；in—
stantcomposurefelluponher，andwithitcamethepowerofconcentration。Thiswasmusicshecouldunderstand，musicfromtheNewWorldindeed！Strangehow，asthefirstmovementwenton，itbroughtbacktoherthathightablelandaboveLaramie；thegrass—grownwagon
trails，thefar—awaypeaksofthesnowyrange，thewindandtheeagles，thatoldmanandthefirsttelegraphmessage。
Whenthefirstmovementended，Thea’shandsandfeetwerecoldasice。Shewastoomuchexcitedtoknowany—
thingexceptthatshewantedsomethingdesperately，andwhentheEnglishhornsgaveoutthethemeoftheLargo，sheknewthatwhatshewantedwasexactlythat。Herewerethesandhills，thegrasshoppersandlocusts，allthethingsthatwakenedandchirpedintheearlymorning；
thereachingandreachingofhighplains，theimmeas—
urableyearningofallflatlands。Therewashomeinit，too；firstmemories，firstmorningslongago；theamaze—
mentofanewsoulinanewworld；asoulnewandyetold，thathaddreamedsomethingdespairing，somethingglori—
ous，inthedarkbeforeitwasborn；asoulobsessedbywhatitdidnotknow，underthecloudofapastitcouldnotre—
call。
IfTheahadhadmuchexperienceinconcert—going，andhadknownherowncapacity，shewouldhaveleftthehallwhenthesymphonywasover。Butshesatstill，scarcelyknowingwhereshewas，becausehermindhadbeenfarawayandhadnotyetcomebacktoher。Shewasstartledwhentheorchestrabegantoplayagain——theentryofthegodsintoWalhalla。Shehearditaspeoplehearthingsintheirsleep。SheknewscarcelyanythingabouttheWagneroperas。Shehadavagueideathat"Rhinegold"wasaboutthestrifebetweengodsandmen；
shehadreadsomethingaboutitinMr。Haweis’sbooklongago。Tootiredtofollowtheorchestrawithmuchunder—
standing，shecroucheddowninherseatandclosedhereyes。Thecold，statelymeasuresoftheWalhallamusicrangout，faraway；therainbowbridgethrobbedoutintotheair，underitthewailingoftheRhinedaughtersandthesingingoftheRhine。ButTheawassunkintwilight；
itwasallgoingoninanotherworld。Soithappenedthatwithadull，almostlistlessearsheheardforthefirsttime
thattroubledmusic，ever—darkening，ever—brightening，whichwastoflowthroughsomanyyearsofherlife。
WhenTheaemergedfromtheconcerthall，Mrs。Lorch’spredictionshadbeenfulfilled。AfuriousgalewasbeatingoverthecityfromLakeMichigan。Thestreetswerefullofcold，hurrying，angrypeople，runningforstreet—carsandbarkingateachother。Thesunwassettinginaclear，windysky，thatflamedwithredasiftherewereagreatfiresomewhereontheedgeofthecity。ForalmostthefirsttimeTheawasconsciousofthecityitself，ofthecon—
gestionoflifeallabouther，ofthebrutalityandpowerofthosestreamsthatflowedinthestreets，threateningtodriveoneunder。Peoplejostledher，ranintoher，pokedherasidewiththeirelbows，utteringangryexclamations。
Shegotonthewrongcarandwasroughlyejectedbytheconductoratawindycorner，infrontofasaloon。Shestoodtheredazedandshivering。Thecarspassed，screamingastheyroundedcurves，buteithertheywerefulltothedoors，orwereboundforplaceswhereshedidnotwanttogo。
Herhandsweresocoldthatshetookoffhertightkidgloves。Thestreetlightsbegantogleaminthedusk。A
youngmancameoutofthesaloonandstoodeyeingherquestioninglywhilehelitacigarette。"Lookingforafriendto—night？"heasked。Theadrewupthecollarofhercapeandwalkedonafewpaces。Theyoungmanshruggedhisshouldersanddriftedaway。
Theacamebacktothecornerandstoodthereirreso—
lutely。Anoldmanapproachedher。He，too，seemedtobewaitingforacar。Heworeanovercoatwithablackfurcollar，hisgraymustachewaswaxedintolittlepoints，andhiseyeswerewatery。Hekeptthrustinghisfaceupnearhers。Herhatblewoffandheranafterit——astiff，pitifulskiphehad——andbroughtitbacktoher。Then，whileshewaspinningherhaton，hercapeblewup，andhehelditdownforher，lookingatherintently。Hisfaceworkedasifheweregoingtocryorwerefrightened。Heleaned
overandwhisperedsomethingtoher。Itstruckherascuriousthathewasreallyquitetimid，likeanoldbeggar。
"Oh，letmeALONE！"shecriedmiserablybetweenherteeth。
Hevanished，disappearedliketheDevilinaplay。Butinthemeantimesomethinghadgotawayfromher；shecouldnotrememberhowtheviolinscameinafterthehorns，justthere。Whenhercapeblewup，perhaps——Whydidthesementormenther？Acloudofdustblewinherfaceandblindedher。Therewassomepowerabroadintheworldbentupontakingawayfromherthatfeelingwithwhichshehadcomeoutoftheconcerthall。Everythingseemedtosweepdownonhertotearitoutfromunderhercape。Ifonehadthat，theworldbecameone’senemy；
people，buildings，wagons，cars，rushedatonetocrushitunder，tomakeoneletgoofit。Theaglaredroundheratthecrowds，theugly，sprawlingstreets，thelonglinesoflights，andshewasnotcryingnow。HereyeswerebrighterthanevenHarsanyihadeverseenthem。Allthesethingsandpeoplewerenolongerremoteandnegli—
gible；theyhadtobemet，theywerelinedupagainsther，theyweretheretotakesomethingfromher。Verywell；
theyshouldneverhaveit。Theymighttramplehertodeath，buttheyshouldneverhaveit。Aslongasshelivedthatecstasywasgoingtobehers。Shewouldliveforit，workforit，dieforit；butshewasgoingtohaveit，timeaftertime，heightafterheight。Shecouldhearthecrashoftheorchestraagain，andsheroseonthebrasses。Shewouldhaveit，whatthetrumpetsweresinging！Shewouldhaveit，haveit，——it！Undertheoldcapeshepressedherhandsuponherheavingbosom，thatwasalittlegirl’snolonger。
VI
ONEafternooninApril，TheodoreThomas，thecon—
ductoroftheChicagoSymphonyOrchestra，hadturnedouthisdesklightandwasabouttoleavehisofficeintheAuditoriumBuilding，whenHarsanyiappearedinthedoorway。Theconductorwelcomedhimwithaheartyhand—gripandthrewofftheovercoathehadjustputon。
HepushedHarsanyiintoachairandsatdownathisbur—
deneddesk，pointingtothepilesofpapersandrailwayfoldersuponit。
"Anothertour，cleartothecoast。Thistravelingisthepartofmyworkthatgrindsme，Andor。Youknowwhatitmeans：badfood，dirt，noise，exhaustionforthemenandforme。I’mnotsoyoungasIoncewas。It’stimeIquitthehighway。Thisisthelasttour，Iswear！"
"ThenI’msorryforthe`highway。’IrememberwhenI
firstheardyouinPittsburg，longago。Itwasalife—lineyouthrewme。It’saboutoneofthepeoplealongyourhigh—
waythatI’vecometoseeyou。WhomdoyouconsiderthebestteacherforvoiceinChicago？"
Mr。Thomasfrownedandpulledhisheavymustache。
"Letmesee；IsupposeonthewholeMadisonBowersisthebest。He’sintelligent，andhehadgoodtraining。I
don’tlikehim。"
Harsanyinodded。"Ithoughttherewasnooneelse。
Idon’tlikehim，either，soIhesitated。ButIsupposehemustdo，forthepresent。"
"Haveyoufoundanythingpromising？Oneofyourownstudents？"
"Yes，sir。AyoungSwedishgirlfromsomewhereinColorado。Sheisverytalented，andsheseemstometohavearemarkablevoice。"
"Highvoice？"
"Ithinkitwillbe；thoughherlowvoicehasabeauti—
fulquality，veryindividual。Shehashadnoinstructioninvoiceatall，andIshrinkfromhandingherovertoany—
body；herowninstinctaboutithasbeensogood。Itisoneofthosevoicesthatmanagesitselfeasily，withoutthinningasitgoesup；goodbreathingandperfectrelaxa—
tion。Butshemusthaveateacher，ofcourse。Thereisabreakinthemiddlevoice，sothatthevoicedoesnotallworktogether；anunevenness。"
Thomaslookedup。"So？Curious；thatcleftoftenhappenswiththeSwedes。Someoftheirbestsingershavehadit。Italwaysremindsmeofthespaceyousooftenseebetweentheirfrontteeth。Isshestrongphysically？"
Harsanyi’seyeflashed。Heliftedhishandbeforehimandclenchedit。"Likeahorse，likeatree！EverytimeIgiveheralesson，Iloseapound。Shegoesafterwhatshewants。"
"Intelligent，yousay？Musicallyintelligent？"
"Yes；butnocultivationwhatever。Shecametomelikeafineyoungsavage，abookwithnothingwritteninit。
ThatiswhyIfeeltheresponsibilityofdirectingher。"
Harsanyipausedandcrushedhissoftgrayhatoverhisknee。"Shewouldinterestyou，Mr。Thomas，"headdedslowly。"Shehasaquality——veryindividual。"
"Yes；theScandinaviansareapttohavethat，too。Shecan’tgotoGermany，Isuppose？"
"Notnow，atanyrate。Sheispoor。"
Thomasfrownedagain"Idon’tthinkBowersareallyfirst—rateman。He’stoopettytobereallyfirst—rate；inhisnature，Imean。ButIdaresayhe’sthebestyoucando，ifyoucan’tgivehertimeenoughyourself。"
Harsanyiwavedhishand。"Oh，thetimeisnothing——shemayhaveallshewants。ButIcannotteachhertosing。"
"Mightnotcomeamissifyoumadeamusicianofher，however，"saidMr。Thomasdryly。
"Ihavedonemybest。ButIcanonlyplaywithavoice，andthisisnotavoicetobeplayedwith。Ithinkshewillbeamusician，whateverhappens。Sheisnotquick，butsheissolid，real；notliketheseothers。Mywifesaysthatwiththatgirloneswallowdoesnotmakeasummer。"
Mr。Thomaslaughed。"TellMrs。Harsanyithatherremarkconveyssomethingtome。Don’tletyourselfgettoomuchinterested。Voicesaresooftendisappointing；
especiallywomen’svoices。Somuchchanceaboutit，somanyfactors。"
"Perhapsthatiswhytheyinterestone。Alltheintelli—
genceandtalentintheworldcan’tmakeasinger。Thevoiceisawildthing。Itcan’tbebredincaptivity。Itisasport，likethesilverfox。Ithappens。"
Mr。ThomassmiledintoHarsanyi’sgleamingeye。
"Whyhaven’tyoubroughthertosingforme？"
"I’vebeentemptedto，butIknewyouweredriventodeath，withthistourconfrontingyou。"
"Oh，Icanalwaysfindtimetolistentoagirlwhohasavoice，ifshemeansbusiness。I’msorryI’mleavingsosoon。IcouldadviseyoubetterifIhadheardher。Icansometimesgiveasingersuggestions。I’veworkedsomuchwiththem。"
"You’retheonlyconductorIknowwhoisnotsnobbishaboutsingers。"Harsanyispokewarmly。
"Dearme，whyshouldIbe？They’velearnedfromme，andI’velearnedfromthem。"Astheyrose，Thomastooktheyoungermanaffectionatelybythearm。"Tellmeaboutthatwifeofyours。Isshewell，andaslovelyasever？
Andsuchfinechildren！Cometoseemeoftener，whenIgetback。Imissitwhenyoudon’t。"
ThetwomenlefttheAuditoriumBuildingtogether。
Harsanyiwalkedhome。EvenashorttalkwithThomasalwaysstimulatedhim。AshewalkedhewasrecallinganeveningtheyoncespenttogetherinCincinnati。
HarsanyiwasthesoloistatoneofThomas’sconcerts
there，andaftertheperformancetheconductorhadtakenhimofftoaRATHSKELLERwheretherewasexcellentGermancooking，andwheretheproprietorsawtoitthatThomashadthebestwinesprocurable。ThomashadbeenworkingwiththegreatchorusoftheFestivalAssociationandwasspeakingofitwithenthusiasmwhenHarsanyiaskedhimhowitwasthathewasabletofeelsuchaninterestinchoraldirectingandinvoicesgenerally。Thomasseldomspokeofhisyouthorhisearlystruggles，butthatnightheturnedbackthepagesandtoldHarsanyialongstory。
HesaidhehadspentthesummerofhisfifteenthyearwanderingaboutaloneintheSouth，givingviolincon—
certsinlittletowns。Hetraveledonhorseback。Whenhecameintoatown，hewentaboutalldaytackinguppostersannouncinghisconcertintheevening。Beforetheconcert，hestoodatthedoortakingintheadmissionmoneyuntilhisaudiencehadarrived，andthenhewentontheplatformandplayed。Itwasalazy，hand—to—mouthex—
istence，andThomassaidhemusthavegottolikethateasywayoflivingandtherelaxingSouthernatmosphere。
Atanyrate，whenhegotbacktoNewYorkinthefall，hewasrathertorpid；perhapshehadbeengrowingtoofast。
Fromthisadolescentdrowsinesstheladwasawakenedbytwovoices，bytwowomenwhosanginNewYorkin1851，——JennyLindandHenriettaSontag。Theywerethefirstgreatartistshehadeverheard，andheneverforgothisdebttothem。
Ashesaid，"Itwasnotvoiceandexecutionalone。Therewasagreatnessaboutthem。Theyweregreatwomen，greatartists。Theyopenedanewworldtome。"Nightafternighthewenttohearthem，strivingtoreproducethequalityoftheirtoneuponhisviolin。Fromthattimehisideaaboutstringswascompletelychanged，andonhisviolinhetriedalwaysforthesinging，vibratingtone，in—
steadoftheloudandsomewhatharshtonethenprevalentamongeventhebestGermanviolinists。Inlateryearshe
oftenadvisedvioliniststostudysinging，andsingerstostudyviolin。HetoldHarsanyithathegothisfirstcon—
ceptionoftonequalityfromJennyLind。
"But，ofcourse，"headded，"thegreatthingIgotfromLindandSontagwastheindefinite，notthedefinite，thing。
Foranimpressionableboy，theirinspirationwasincalcu—
lable。TheygavememyfirstfeelingfortheItalianstyle——butIcouldneversayhowmuchtheygaveme。Atthatage，suchinfluencesareactuallycreative。Ialwaysthinkofmyartisticconsciousnessasbeginningthen。"
AllhislifeThomasdidhisbesttorepaywhathefeltheowedtothesinger’sart。Nomancouldgetsuchsingingfromchoruses，andnomanworkedhardertoraisethestandardofsinginginschoolsandchurchesandchoralsocieties。
VII
AllthroughthelessonTheahadfeltthatHarsanyiwasrestlessandabstracted。Beforethehourwasover，hepushedbackhischairandsaidresolutely，"Iamnotinthemood，MissKronborg。Ihavesomethingonmymind，andImusttalktoyou。Whendoyouintendtogohome？"
Theaturnedtohiminsurprise。"ThefirstofJune，about。Mr。Larsenwillnotneedmeafterthat，andIhavenotmuchmoneyahead。Ishallworkhardthissummer，though。"