eard; he struck ludicrous attitudes, pouring out, meanwhile,
without stint--for he had soon passed from Krafft's particular case of
insubordination to the general one--pouring out the savage anger and
deep-felt injury that had accumulated in him. Finally, he invited the
class to rise and leave him, there and then. For what, in God's name,
were they waiting? Let them up and away, without more ado!

On receiving the volume of Beethoven on his fingers, Krafft
straightened out the pages, and taking down his hat from its peg, left
the room, with movements of a calculated coolness. But only a pupil of
Bullow's might take such a liberty; the rest had to assist quietly at
the painful scene. Maurice studied his finger nails, and Dove did not
once remove his eyes from the leg of the piano. They, at least, knew
from experience that, in time, the storm would pass; also that it
sounded worse, than it actually was. But a new-comer, a stout Bavarian
lad, with hair cut like Rubinstein's, who was present at the lesson for
the first time, was pale and frightened, and sat drinking in every word.

Towards the end of the hour, when quiet was re-established, one's
inclination was rather to escape from the room and be free, than to sit
down to play something that demanded coolness and concentration. Dove,
who was not sensitive to externals, came safely through the ordeal; but
Maurice made a poor job of the trio in which he had hoped to excel.
Schwarz did not even offer to turn the pages. This, Beyerlein, the
new-comer, did, in a nervous desire to ingratiate himself; but he was
still so flustered that, at a critical moment, he brought the music
down on the keys. Schwarz said nothing; wrapped in the moody silence
that invariably followed his outbursts, he hardly seemed aware that
anyone was playing. After two movements of the trio, he signed to
Beyerlein to take his turn, and proffered no comment on Maurice's work.
Maurice would have hurried away, without a further word, had he not
already learned the early date of his performance. He knew, too, that
if the practical side of the affair--rehearsals with string players,
and so on--was not satisfactorily arranged, he would be blamed for it.
So he reminded Schwarz of the matter. From what ensued, it was plain
that the master still bore him a grudge for absconding in summer.
Schwarz glared coldly at him, as if unsure to what Maurice alluded; and
when the latter had recalled the details of the case t