red indistinctly _pp._, and played very
_ritardando_; then suddenly a few notes were struck very rapidly
and with great force, so that the strings rattled; and the final B
major chord cost the life of one string._)

MR. GOLD. Excellent! bravissimo! What a comprehension of the piece! Such
artistic performances make one even forget the stock-exchange!

MRS. GOLD. You agitate my inmost nerves! The English poet, Pope, holds
that no created man can penetrate the secrets of nature; but you have
penetrated the secrets of my soul. Now do play at once the F sharp minor
mazourka, opus 6.

MR. PIOUS. What a musical evening Mrs. Gold has prepared for us! What
sublime sorrow lies in this production!

MR. SILVER (_aside_). What would Father Strauss say to this affected,
unmusical performance, that bids defiance to all good taste?

DOMINIE. Mrs. Gold, it would be well to send for the tuner to replace
this broken B string. The next one will break soon, for it is already
cracked, and its tone is fallen.

MR. FORTE (_with a superior air_). It is of no consequence. That
frequently happens to me; but I never mind it. The piano is a
battle-field where there must be sacrifices.

DOMINIE (_whispers to Emma_). He thinks that if the sound is not
musical, still it makes a noise; and tones out of tune produce more
effect than those that are pure.

EMMA. Where did he learn piano-playing?

DOMINIE. My child, he has not _learned_ it. That is genius, which comes
of itself. Instruction would have fettered his genius, and then he would
have played distinctly, correctly, unaffectedly, and in time; but that
would be too much like the style of an amateur. This uncontrolled
hurly-burly, which pays no regard to time, is called the soaring of
genius.

(_Mr. Forte storms through various unconnected chords with the
greatest rapidity, with the pedal raised; and passes without pause
to the F sharp minor mazourka. He accents vehemently, divides one
bar and gives it two extra quarter notes, and from the next bar he
omits a quarter note, and continues in this manner with extreme
self-satisfaction till he reaches the close; and then, after a few
desperate chords of the diminished seventh, he connects with it
Liszt's Transcription of Schubert's Serenade in D minor. The second
string of the two-lined b snaps with a rattle, and there ensues a
general whispering "whether the piece is by Mendels