h some faint hesitation, it was Anton's express
wish to resign the conductor's baton, during the interpretation of the
symphony, to the composer himself!

"But--but--good Heaven!" stammered Ivan, in a flutter of excitement and
incredulity, "it is impossible! Conduct!--I cannot do it! It--it is
impossible!"

The trouble in Rubinstein's mind now stepped forth to his face. "Could
you not try, Ivan?--I want so much to see you and Anton quite
reconciled. And he has suggested this, I think, to prove his
friendship."

(Simple-hearted brother! Why could he not remember that Anton was as
fully aware as himself of Ivan's inexperience in the art, seemingly so
simple, really inordinately difficult, of leading an orchestra?)

Poor Ivan was as innocent in the matter as Nicholas himself, however:
yes, more so. For, never having attempted it, he failed to realize the
firmness, the decision, the executive ability required by him who would
hold a large body of musicians in intelligent control. At this distance,
the matter of conducting his symphony--the orchestration of which he
knew by heart--seemed to hold out few difficulties. He considered, a
little, in silence; and then proceeded to discuss the prospect with his
visitor.

There were still four weeks before the concert. Work could be begun
immediately. Certainly, during that time, working every day with the men
who were to play his work, he could gain enough confidence, enough
familiarity with the difficult points of this one, familiar composition,
to carry him through the final event. So, at least, it seemed to the two
who, in their eagerness, were leaving out of their calculation the most
important factor in the case: Ivan's unconquerable shyness: his
excessive modesty: the nervous self-consciousness never yet tried in so
keen a way. But to-night Ivan was wrapped in a dream. A golden mist of
hope gratified, ideals realized, ambition met, hid from him every ugly
reality. Consent to Anton's wretched scheme was easily given; and then
the conversation turned to a theme even more delightful: the forthcoming
production of "The Boyar," to which, the concert over, all the energies
of the composer must be turned.

Later that night Ivan, left alone, dazed and tremulous at the fortune
now hovering within his grasp, laid upon the altar of his gods his first
fruits of success.--Long, long after, when the chimera had become a form
radiantly real, Ivan looked back upon this night as perhap