that thing
is. Why do you keep it there? What's it for? It annoys me with its
everlasting grin."

Daniel woke up. "That is what you call a grin?" he asked, shaking his
head; "Is it possible? That smile from the world beyond appeals to you
as a grin?"

"Yes," replied Dorothea defiantly, "the thing is grinning. And I don't
like it; I can't stand that silly face; I don't like it simply because
you do like it so much. In fact, you seem to like it better than you do
me."

"No childishness, Dorothea!" said Daniel quietly. "You must get your
mind on higher things; and you must respect my spirits."

Dorothea became silent. She did not understand him. She looked at him
with a touch of distrust. She thought the mask was a picture of one of
his old sweethearts. She made a mouth.

"You said something about playing at the party, Dorothea," continued
Daniel. "Do you realise that I never heard you play? I will frankly
confess to you that heretofore I have been afraid to hear you. I could
tolerate only the excellent; or the promise of excellence. You may show
both; and yet, what is the cause of my fear? You have not practised in a
long while; not once since we have been living together. And yet you
wish to play in public? That is strange, Dorothea. Be so good as to get
your violin and play a piece for me, won't you?"

Dorothea went into the next room, got her violin case, came out, took
the violin, and began to rub the bow with rosin. As she was tuning the
A string, she lifted her eyebrows and said: "Do you really want me to
play?"

She bit her lips and played an _etude_ by Fiorillo. Having finished it
but not having drawn a word of comment from Daniel, she again took up
the violin and played a rather lamentable selection by Wieniawski.

Daniel maintained his silence for a long while. "Pretty good, Dorothea,"
he said at last. "You have, other things being equal, a very pleasant
pastime there."

"What do you mean?" asked Dorothea with noticeable rapidity, a heavy
blush colouring her cheeks.

"Is it anything more than that, Dorothea?"

"What do you mean?" she repeated, embarrassed and indignant. "I should
think that my violin is more than a pastime."

Daniel got up, walked over to her, took the bow gently from her hands,
seized it by both ends, and broke it in two.

Dorothea screamed, and looked at him in hopeless consternation.

With great earnestness Daniel replied: "If the music I hear is not of
unique superiority,