such eloquent music--and kissed it
reverently.

"All thanks to you, my more than father. There was a trying moment. My
first piece did not touch them much, and the Bauquel _claque_, as
Degraux warned me would be the case, did their best to hiss me down.
Then I set my teeth and vowed that I would not be a failure and return
home disgraced. I played that little romance, with my variations. I
finished in a storm of applause."

"Ah!" sighed Peron amongst his pillows, a wan smile lighting his livid
face. "That is your masterpiece. That would always stir the dullest
audience."

"And listen, dear good Papa. Degraux was so pleased with my success
that he has paid me double the fee he promised. No more short commons
for any of us. Little Anita here shall keep the purse and maintain
us in royal state." He threw his head back and laughed almost
hysterically. "Oh, it must be a dream, a wild, mad dream. I cannot be
the same Nello Corsini who, a few weeks ago, used to play in the
streets for coppers."

Then he recovered from his overwrought mood. There was more yet to be
told to this kind old man.

"Then, dear Papa, I had an adventure--it was the first-fruits of
success. As I came out, a tall footman in livery accosted me; he was
to lead me to the carriage of the Princess Zouroff."

Peron's voice grew a little stronger. "The mother of the Russian
Ambassador, Boris Zouroff. In the long ago I used to know her. Her
husband was a brute. She has two children, Boris and a girl much
younger than he. I have heard that Boris is a brute like his father.
Go on, Nello. Finish your adventure; but I can guess what is coming."

"The Princess is giving a reception to-morrow evening at the Embassy
in Chesham Place. She has asked me to play, at my own price."

Tears welled up into the old man's eyes. "You are made, my son, but we
must not be too jubilant. Artists are creatures of the hour. To-day
Bauquel, to-morrow Nello Corsini. Take advantage of the present, but
it will be wise to look out for something more permanent than the
caprice of public favour, which dethrones its idols almost as quickly
as it has crowned them."

Nello started. There was in Peron's mind the same thought that Degraux
had expressed a short time ago.

The poor old man rallied himself for a last effort. "In that little
cupboard yonder there is a packet containing a few private papers. You
will destroy all except a letter addressed to yourself; in it you will
find