s Herzeleid:

As far as this, the voice had been supported by simple, full-sounding
harmonies. Now, from out the depths, still of F minor, rose a
hesitating theme, which seemed to grope its way: in imagination, one
heard it given out by the bass strings; then the violas reiterated it,
and dyed it purple; voice and violins sang it together; the high little
flutes carried it up and beyond, out of reach, to a half close.

Weh spricht: vergeh!

Suddenly and unexpectedly, there entered a light yet mournful phrase in
F major, which was almost a dance-rhythm, and seemed to be a small,
frail pleading for something not rightly understood.

Doch alle Lust will Ewigkeit,
Will tiefe, tiefe Ewigkeit.

The innocent little theme passed away, and the words were sung again to
a stern and fateful close in D flat major.

The concluding section of the work returned to these motives, developed
them, gathered them together, grouped them and interchanged them, in
complicated thermatic counterpoint. Schilsky was barely able to cope
with the difficulties of the score; he exerted himself desperately,
laboured with his head and his whole body, and surmounted sheerly
unplayable parts with the genial slitheriness that is the privilege of
composers.

When, at last, he crashed to a close and wiped his face in exhaustion,
there was a deafening uproar of applause. Loud cries were uttered and
exclamations of enthusiasm; people rose from their seats and crowded
round the piano to congratulate the player. Mrs. Lautenschlager could
not desist from kissing his hand. A tall, thin Russian girl in
spectacles, who had assiduously taken notes throughout, asked in a loud
voice, and her peculiar, hoppy German, for information about the
orchestration. What use had he made of the cymbals? She trusted a
purely Wagnerian one. Schilsky hastened to reopen the score, and sat
himself to answer the question earnestly and at length.

"Come, Maurice, let us go," said Madeleine, rising and shaking the
creases from her skirt. "There will be congratulations enough. He won't
miss ours."

Maurice had had an idea of lingering till everybody else had gone, on
the chance of picking up fresh facts. But he was never good at excuses.
So they slipped out into the passage, followed by Dove; but while the
latter was looking for his hat, Madeleine pulled Maurice down the
stairs.

"Quick, let us go!" she whispered; and, as they heard him coming after
them, she