r thing that makes me more sure that I am not deceiving myself
to-night,' he said, taking his fingers off the keys, but staring at the
keyboard, 'is that you have not regretted coming here. You have not
called yourself a wicked woman. You have not even accused me of taking
advantage of your innocence.'

And ere I could say a word he had begun the Chromatic Fantasia,
smiling faintly.

And I had hoped for peace from Bach! I had often suspected that deep
passion was concealed almost everywhere within the restraint and the
apparent calm of Bach's music, but the full force of it had not been
shown to me till this glorious night. Diaz' playing was tenfold more
impressive, more effective, more revealing in the hotel parlour than in
the great hall. The Chromatic Fantasia seemed as full of the magnificence
of life as that other Fantasia which he had given an hour or so earlier.
Instead of peace I had the whirlwind; instead of tranquillity a riot;
instead of the poppy an alarming potion. The rendering was masterly to
the extreme of masterliness.

When he had finished I rose and passed to the fireplace in silence; he
did not stir.

'Do you always play like that?' I asked at length.

'No,' he said; 'only when you are there. I have never played the Chopin
Fantasia as I played it to-night. The Chopin was all right; but do not
be under any illusion: what you have just heard is Bach played by a
Chopin player.'

Then he left the piano and went to the small table where the
glasses were.

'You must be in need of refreshment,' he whispered gaily. 'Nothing is
more exhausting than listening to the finest music.'

'It is you who ought to be tired,' I replied; 'after that long concert,
to be playing now.'

'I have the physique of a camel,' he said. 'I am never tired so long as I
am sure of my listeners. I would play for you till breakfast to-morrow.'

The decanter contained a fluid of a pleasant green tint. He poured very
carefully this fluid to the depth of half an inch in one glass and
three-quarters of an inch in another glass. Then he filled both glasses
to the brim with water, accomplishing the feat with infinite pains and
enjoyment, as though it had been part of a ritual.

'There!' he said, offering me in his steady hand the glass which had
received the smaller quantity of the green fluid. 'Taste.'

'But what is it?' I demanded.

'Taste,' he repeated, and he himself tasted.

I obeyed. At the first mouthful I thought the