idered on it, and with what
marvelous skill! Genius never lets go of the science that guides it.
Here Alice's song is in B flat leading into F sharp, the key of the
demon's chorus. Do you hear the tremolo in the orchestra? The host of
devils clamor for Robert.

"Bertram now reappears, and this is the culminating point of musical
interest; after a _recitative_, worthy of comparison with the finest
work of the great masters, comes the fierce conflict in E flat between
two tremendous forces--one on the words '_Oui, tu me connais_!' on a
diminished seventh; the other, on that sublime F, '_Le ciel est avec
moi_.' Hell and the Crucifix have met for battle. Next we have Bertram
threatening Alice, the most violent pathos ever heard--the Spirit of
Evil expatiating complacently, and, as usual, appealing to personal
interest. Robert's arrival gives us the magnificent unaccompanied trio
in A flat, the first skirmish between the two rival forces and the man.
And note how clearly that is expressed," said Gambara, epitomizing the
scene with such passion of expression as startled Andrea.

"All this avalanche of music, from the clash of cymbals in common time,
has been gathering up to this contest of three voices. The magic of evil
triumphs! Alice flies, and you have the duet in D between Bertram and
Robert. The devil sets his talons in the man's heart; he tears it to
make it his own; he works on every feeling. Honor, hope, eternal and
infinite pleasures--he displays them all. He places him, as he did
Jesus, on the pinnacle of the Temple, and shows him all the treasures of
the earth, the storehouse of sin. He nettles him to flaunt his courage;
and the man's nobler mind is expressed in his exclamation:

"Des chevaliers de ma patrie
L'honneur toujours fut le soutien!

"And finally, to crown the work, the theme comes in which sounded
the note of fatality at the beginning. Thus, the leading strain, the
magnificent call to the deed:

"Nonnes qui reposez sous cette froide pierre,
M'entendez-vous?

"The career of the music, gloriously worked out, is gloriously finished
by the _allegro vivace_ of the bacchanalian chorus in D minor. This,
indeed, is the triumph of hell! Roll on, harmony, and wrap us in
a thousand folds! Roll on, bewitch us! The powers of darkness have
clutched their prey; they hold him while they dance. The great genius,
born to conquer and to reign, is lost! The devils rejoice, misery
stifles genius, passion wil