ot then interpret, accepted her hostess's invitation and seated
herself beside her.

The first item on the programme was a nocturne rendered by the composer,
a famous pianist who at the time was delighting all London. He seated
himself at the piano and began to play. I am afraid, however, I spared
but small attention for his performance. My interest was centred on that
huddled-up figure under the fur rug and the beautiful creature at his
side. Then a change came, and once more I experienced the same sensation
of revulsion that had overwhelmed me twice before. Again I felt sick and
giddy; once more a clammy sweat broke out upon my forehead, and at last,
unable any longer to control myself, I rose from my seat.

"What on earth is the matter?" inquired my friend, who had been watching
me. "Are you ill?"

"I believe I'm going to faint," I replied. "I must get into the air. But
there is no necessity for you to come. I shall be all right alone."

So saying I signed him back to his seat, and, slipping quietly from the
corner, made my way through the anteroom into the marble corridor
beyond. Once there I leant against the balustrading of the staircase and
endeavoured to pull myself together. A groom of the chambers, who was
passing at the time, seeing there was something amiss, approached and
inquired if he could be of service.

"I am feeling a little faint," I replied. "The heat of the drawing-room
was too much for me. If you can get me a little brandy I think I shall
be quite well in a few moments."

The man departed and presently came back with the spirit I had asked
for. With the return of my self-possession I endeavoured to arrive at an
understanding of what had occasioned the attack. I was not subject to
fainting-fits, but was in every respect as strong as the majority of my
fellow-creatures.

"It's all nonsense," I said to myself, "to ascribe it to that old
fellow's presence. How could such a thing affect me? At any rate, I'll
try the experiment once more."

So saying, I returned to the drawing-room.

I was only just in time, for, as I entered, the lady who had hitherto
been seated by her hostess's side rose from her chair and moved toward
the piano. As no one else stirred, it was plain that she was going to
dispense with the services of an accompanist. Taking her violin from a
table she drew her bow gently across the strings, and, when she had
tuned it, stood looking straight before her down the room. How beau