perhaps, known on
the Continent, Herr Machtenklinken,--but not here--and I think you ought
to be more grateful for my influence."

So saying, she passed on, leaving the luckless pianist in a state of the
greatest indignation.

"_Gott in Himmel!_" he gasped, in a sort of infuriated sotto voce. "Ze
Emberor himself would not have speak to me so! I come here as a
favor--her ladyshib do not offer me one _pfenning_,--ach! ze music is
not for such beoble! I shall brefer to blay to bigs! Zere is no art in
zis country!--"

And he began to make his way out of the room, when he was overtaken by
Beau Lovelace, who had followed him in haste.

"Where are you off to, Hermann?" he asked good-naturedly. "We want you
to play. There is a lady here who heard you in Paris quite recently--she
admires you immensely. Won't you come and be introduced to her?"

Herr Machtenklinken paused, and a smile softened his hitherto angry
countenance.

"You are fery goot, Mr. Lofelace," he remarked--"and I would do moch for
_you_--but her ladyshib understands me not--she has offend me--it is
better I should take my leave."

"Oh, bother her ladyship!" said Beau lightly. "Come along, and give us
something in your best style."

So saying, he led the half-reluctant artist back to the piano, where he
was introduced to Thelma, who gave him so sweet a smile that he was
fairly dazzled.

"It is you who play Schumann so beautifully," she said. "My husband and
I heard you at one of Lamoureux's concerts in Paris. I fear," and she
looked wistfully at him, "that you would think it very rude and selfish
of me if I asked you to play just one little piece? Because, of course,
you are here to enjoy yourself, and talk to your friends, and it seems
unkind to take you away from them!"

A strange moisture dimmed the poor German's eyes. This was the first
time in England that the "celebrate" had been treated as a friend and a
gentleman. Up to this moment, at all the "at homes" and "assemblies," he
had not been considered as a guest at all,--he was an "artist," "a good
pianist,"--"a man who had played before the Emperor of Germany"--and he
was expected to perform for nothing, and be grateful for the "influence"
exercised on his behalf--influence which as yet had not put one single
extra guinea in his pocket. Now, here was a great lady almost
apologizing for asking him to play, lest it should take him away from
his "friends"! His heart swelled with emotion and gratitu