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twenty… four； with the face of a Madonna； wondrous eyes of darkest blue；
hair indescribable in its maze of tawny color in a word； the perfection of
womanhood。 In half an hour I was her abject slave； and proud in my
serfdom。 When I returned to the hotel that evening I could not sleep。 Her
image ever was before me； elusive and shadowy。 And yet we seemed to
grow farther and farther apartshe nearer heaven； I nearer earth。
The next evening I gave my first and what I fear may prove my last
concert in America。 The vision of my dreams was there； radiant in rarest
beauty。 Singularly enough； she was in the direct line of my vision while I
played。 I saw only her； played but for her； and cast my soul at her feet。 She
sat indifferent and silent。 ‘‘Cold？'' you say。 No！ No！ Francesca； not cold；
superior to my poor efforts。 I realized my limitations。 I questioned my
genius。 When I returned to bow my acknowledgments for the most
generous applause I have ever received； there was no sign on her part that
I had interested her； either through my talent or by appeal to her curiosity。
I hoped against hope that some word might come from her； but I was
doomed to disappointment。 The critics were fulsome in their praise and the
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public was lavish with its plaudits； but I was abjectly miserable。 Another
sleepless night and I was determined to see her。 She received me most
graciously； although I fear she thought my visit one of vanitywounded
vanity and me petulant because of her lack of appreciation。
Oh； sister mine； I knew better。 I knew my heart craved one word；
however matter…of…fact； that would rekindle the hope that was dying
within me。
Hesitatingly； and like a clumsy yokel； I blurted： ‘‘I have been
wondering whether you cared for the performance I gave？''
‘‘It certainly ought to make little difference to you；'' she replied； ‘‘the
public was enthusiastic enough in its endorsement。''
‘‘But I want your opinion；'' I pleaded。
‘‘My opinion would not at all affect the almost unanimous verdict；
‘‘she replied calmly。
‘‘And；'' I urged desperately； ‘‘you were not affected in the least？''
Very coldly she answered； ‘‘Not in the least；'' and then fearlessly； like
a princess in the Palace of Truth： ‘‘If ever a man comes who can awaken
my heart； frankly and honestly I will confess it。''
‘‘Perhaps such a one lives；'' I said；
but has yet to reach the height to win youyour''
‘‘Speak it；'' she said； ‘‘to win my love！''
‘‘Yes；'' I cried； startled at her candor； ‘‘to win your love。'' Hope slowly
rekindled within my breast； and then with half…closed eyes； and wooingly；
she said：
‘‘No drooping Clytie could be more constant than I to him who strikes
the chord that is responsive in my soul。''
Her emotion must have surprised her； but immediately she regained
her placidity and reverted no more to the subject。
I went out into the gathering gloom。 Her words haunted me。 A strange
feeling came over me。 A voice within me cried： ‘‘Do not play to…night。
Study！ study！ Perhaps in the full fruition of your genius your music； like
the warm western wind to the harp； may bring life to her soul。''
I fled； and I am here。 I am delving deeper and deeper into the
mysteries of my art； and I pray God each hour that He may place within
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my grasp the wondrous music His blessed angels sing； for the soul of her I
love is at。 tuned to the harmonies of heaven。
Your affectionate brother； ANGELO。 ISLAND OF BAHAMA；
January 2。
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VI
When Diotti left New York so precipitately he took passage on a coast
line steamer sailing for the Bahama Islands。 Once there； he leased a small
cay； one of a group off the main land； and lived alone and unattended； save
for the weekly visits of an old fisherman and his son； who brought
supplies of provisions from the town miles away。 His dwelling…place；
surrounded with palmetto trees； was little more than a rough shelter。 Diotti
arose at daylight； and after a simple repast； betook himself to practise。
Hour after hour he would let his muse run riot with his fingers。 Lovingly
he wooed the strings with plaintive song； then conquering and triumphant
would be his theme。 But neither satisfied him。 The vague dream of a
melody more beautiful than ever man had heard dwelt hauntingly on the
borders of his imagination； but was no nearer realization than when he
began。 As the day's work closed； he wearily placed the violin within its
case； murmuring； ‘‘Not yet； not yet； I have not found it。''
Days passed； weeks crept slowly on； still he worked； but always with
the same result。 One day； feverish and excited； he played on in monotone
almost listless。 His tired； over…wrought brain denied a further thought。 His
arm and fingers refused response to his will。 With an uncontrollable
outburst of grief and anger he dashed the violin to the floor； where it lay a
hopeless wreck。 Extending his arms he cried； in the agony of despair： ‘‘It
is of no use！ If the God of heaven will not aid me； I ask the prince of
darkness to come。''
A tall； rather spare； but well…made and handsome man appeared at the
door of the hut。 His manner was that of one evidently conversant with the
usages of good society。
‘‘I beg pardon；'' said the musician； surprised and visibly nettled at the
intrusion； and then with forced politeness he asked： ‘‘To whom am I
indebted for this unexpected visit？''
‘‘Allow me；'' said the stranger taking a card from his case and handing
it to the musician； who read： ‘‘Satan；'' and； in the lower left…hand corner
‘‘Prince of Darkness。''
‘‘I am the Prince；'' said the stranger； bowing low。
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There was no hint of the pavement… made ruler in the information he
gave； but rather of the desire of one gentleman to set another right at the
beginning。 The musician assumed a position of open…mouthed wonder；
gazing steadily at the visitor。
‘‘Satan？'' he whispered hoarsely。
‘‘You need help and advice；'' said the visitor； his voice sounding like
that of a disciple of the healing art； and implying that he had thoroughly
diagnosed the case。
‘‘No； no；'' cried the shuddering violinist； ‘‘go away。 I do not need
you。''
‘‘I regret I can not accept that statement as gospel truth；'' said Satan；
sarcastically； ‘‘for if ever a man needed help； you are that man。''
‘‘But not from you；'' replied Diotti。
‘‘That statement is discredited also by your outburst of a few moments
ago when you called upon me。''
‘‘I do not need you；'' reiterated the musician。 ‘‘I will have none of
you！'' and he waved his arm toward the door； as if he desired the interview
to end。
‘‘I came at your behest； actuat