running along underneath this music, some
of them just begun, some long since ended, some never to find a true
completion: little stories of many lands, humourous and pathetic,
droll and capricious legends, merry jests, vivid romances, serious
tales of patience and devotion.

"And out of these stories, because they are human, has come the
humanity of the players: the thing which makes it possible for them to
feel this music, and to play it, not as a machine would play, grinding
it out with dead monotony, but with all the colour and passion of life
itself.

"Why should we not know something of this hidden background of the
orchestra? Why should not somebody tell one of the stories that is
waiting here? Not I, but some one familiar with this region, who has
trodden its paths and shared in its labours; not a mere lover of
music, but a musician."

Here the inner voice which had been running along through the
_Scherzo_ and the _Trio_ and the _Recapitulation_, died away quietly
with the _pianissimo_ passage in which the double-basses and the drum
carry one through the very heart of mystery; and the Music-Lover found
himself intensely waiting for the great _Finale_.

Now it comes, long-expected, surprising, victorious, sweeping all the
instruments into its mighty current, pausing for a moment to take up
the most delicate and mysterious melody of the _Scherzo_ (changed as
if by magic into something new and strange), and then moving on again,
with hurrying, swelling tide, until it breaks in the swift-rolling,
thunderous billows of immeasurable jubilation.

The Music-Lover drew a long breath. He sat motionless in his seat. The
storm of applause did not disturb him. He did not notice that the
audience had risen. He was looking at the orchestra, already
beginning to melt away; but he did not really see them.

Presently a hand was stretched out from the second row behind him, and
touched him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw the face of his
friend the Dreamer, the Brushwood Boy, with his bright eyes and
disheveled hair. And beside him was the radiant presence of the Girl
Who Understood.

"_Lieber Meister,_" said the Boy, "you are coming now with us. There
is a bite and a sup, and a pipe and an open fire, waiting for you in
our room--and I have a story to read you. _Bitte komm!_"

HUMORESKE

I

They parted at the end of the summer--the boy and the girl--after
having been very happy together for two month