rowing pleasantly long and the air balmy. Those last
concerts, and the last nights of the opera, which closed at the end of
April, until September, were always crowded. That night I remember we
had Liszt's "Prometheus," and a great violinist had been announced as
coming to enrapture the audience with the performance of a Concerto of
Beethoven's.

The concert was for the benefit of von Francius, and was probably the
last one at which he would conduct us. He was leaving to assume the post
of Koeniglicher Musik-Direktor at ----. Now that the time came there was
not a man among us who was not heartily sorry to think of the parting.

Miss Wedderburn was one of the soloists that evening and her sister and
Mr. Arkwright were both there.

Karl Linders came on late. I saw that just before he appeared by the
orchestra entrance, his beloved, her aunt, and Fraeulein Sartorius had
taken their places in the parquet. Karl looked sullen and discontented,
and utterly unlike himself. Anna Sartorius was half smiling. Lady Le
Marchant, I noticed, passingly, looked the shadow of her former self.

Then von Francius came on; he too looked disturbed, for him very much
so, and glanced round the orchestra and the room; and then coming up to
Eugen, drew him a little aside, and seemed to put a question to him. The
discussion, though carried on in low tones, was animated, and lasted
some time. Von Francius appeared greatly to urge Courvoisier to
something--the latter to resist. At last some understanding appeared to
be come to. Von Francius returned to his estrade, Eugen to his seat, and
the concert began.

The third piece on the list was the Violin Concerto, and when its turn
came all eyes turned in all directions in search of ----, the
celebrated, who was to perform it. Von Francius advanced and made a
short enough announcement.

"_Meine Herrschaften_, I am sorry to say that I have received a telegram
from Herr ----, saying that sudden illness prevents his playing
to-night. I am sorry that you should be disappointed of hearing him, but
I can not regret that you should have an opportunity of listening to one
who will be a very effectual substitute--Herr Concertmeister
Courvoisier, your first violin."

He stepped back. Courvoisier rose. There was a dead silence in the hall.
Eugen stood in the well-known position of the prophet without honor,
only that he had not yet begun to speak. The rest of the orchestra and
von Francius were waiting to