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for in the midst of the explanation the curtain rose again。 〃You
can't be a great artist without a great passion！〃 Madame Blumenthal
was affirming。 Before I had time to assent Madame Patti's voice rose
wheeling like a skylark； and rained down its silver notes。 〃Ah； give
me that art；〃 I whispered； 〃and I will leave you your passion！〃 And
I departed for my own place in the orchestra。 I wondered afterwards
whether the speech had seemed rude； and inferred that it had not on
receiving a friendly nod from the lady； in the lobby； as the theatre
was emptying itself。 She was on Pickering's arm； and he was taking
her to her carriage。 Distances are short in Homburg； but the night
was rainy； and Madame Blumenthal exhibited a very pretty satin…shod
foot as a reason why； though but a penniless widow； she should not
walk home。 Pickering left us together a moment while he went to hail
the vehicle； and my companion seized the opportunity； as she said； to
beg me to be so very kind as to come and see her。 It was for a
particular reason！ It was reason enough for me； of course； I
answered； that she had given me leave。 She looked at me a moment
with that extraordinary gaze of hers which seemed so absolutely
audacious in its candour； and rejoined that I paid more compliments
than our young friend there； but that she was sure I was not half so
sincere。 〃But it's about him I want to talk；〃 she said。 〃I want to
ask you many things； I want you to tell me all about him。 He
interests me； but you see my sympathies are so intense； my
imagination is so lively； that I don't trust my own impressions。
They have misled me more than once！〃 And she gave a little tragic
shudder。
I promised to come and compare notes with her； and we bade her
farewell at her carriage door。 Pickering and I remained a while；
walking up and down the long glazed gallery of the Kursaal。 I had
not taken many steps before I became aware that I was beside a man in
the very extremity of love。 〃Isn't she wonderful？〃 he asked； with an
implicit confidence in my sympathy which it cost me some ingenuity to
elude。 If he were really in love； well and good！ For although； now
that I had seen her； I stood ready to confess to large possibilities
of fascination on Madame Blumenthal's part； and even to certain
possibilities of sincerity of which my appreciation was vague； yet it
seemed to me less ominous that he should be simply smitten than that
his admiration should pique itself on being discriminating。 It was
on his fundamental simplicity that I counted for a happy termination
of his experiment； and the former of these alternatives seemed to me
the simpler。 I resolved to hold my tongue and let him run his
course。 He had a great deal to say about his happiness； about the
days passing like hours； the hours like minutes； and about Madame
Blumenthal being a 〃revelation。〃 〃She was nothing to…night；〃 he
said； 〃nothing to what she sometimes is in the way of brilliancyin
the way of repartee。 If you could only hear her when she tells her
adventures！〃
〃Adventures？〃 I inquired。 〃Has she had adventures？〃
〃Of the most wonderful sort！〃 cried Pickering； with rapture。 〃She
hasn't vegetated； like me！ She has lived in the tumult of life。
When I listen to her reminiscences； it's like hearing the opening
tumult of one of Beethoven's symphonies as it loses itself in a
triumphant harmony of beauty and faith！〃
I could only lift my eyebrows； but I desired to know before we
separated what he had done with that troublesome conscience of his。
〃I suppose you know； my dear fellow；〃 I said； 〃that you are simply in
love。 That's what they happen to call your state of mind。〃
He replied with a brightening eye； as if he were delighted to hear
it〃So Madame Blumenthal told me only this morning！〃 And seeing； I
suppose； that I was slightly puzzled； 〃 I went to drive with her；〃 he
continued； 〃we drove to Konigstein； to see the old castle。 We
scrambled up into the heart of the ruin and sat for an hour in one of
the crumbling old courts。 Something in the solemn stillness of the
place unloosed my tongue； and while she sat on an ivied stone； on the
edge of the plunging wall； I stood there and made a speech。 She
listened to me； looking at me； breaking off little bits of stone and
letting them drop down into the valley。 At last she got up and
nodded at me two or three times silently； with a smile； as if she
were applauding me for a solo on the violin。 'You are in love；' she
said。 'It's a perfect case！' And for some time she said nothing
more。 But before we left the place she told me that she owed me an
answer to my speech。 She thanked me heartily； but she was afraid
that if she took me at my word she would be taking advantage of my
inexperience。 I had known few women； I was too easily pleased； I
thought her better than she really was。 She had great faults； I must
know her longer and find them out； I must compare her with other
womenwomen younger； simpler； more innocent； more ignorant； and then
if I still did her the honour to think well of her； she would listen
to me again。 I told her that I was not afraid of preferring any
woman in the world to her； and then she repeated； 'Happy man； happy
man！ you are in love； you are in love！'〃
I called upon Madame Blumenthal a couple of days later； in some
agitation of thought。 It has been proved that there are； here and
there； in the world； such people as sincere impostors； certain
characters who cultivate fictitious emotions in perfect good faith。
Even if this clever lady enjoyed poor Pickering's bedazzlement； it
was conceivable that； taking vanity and charity together； she should
care more for his welfare than for her own entertainment； and her
offer to abide by the result of hazardous comparison with other women
was a finer stroke than her reputation had led me to expect。 She
received me in a shabby little sitting…room littered with uncut books
and newspapers； many of which I saw at a glance were French。 One
side of it was occupied by an open piano； surmounted by a jar full of
white roses。 They perfumed the air； they seemed to me to exhale the
pure aroma of Pickering's devotion。 Buried in an arm…chair； the
object of this devotion was reading the Revue des Deux Mondes。 The
purpose of my visit was not to admire Madame Blumenthal on my own
account； but to ascertain how far I might safely leave her to work
her will upon my friend。 She had impugned my sincerity the evening
of the opera； and I was careful on this occasion to abstain from
compliments； and not to place her on her guard against my
penetration。 It is needless to narrate our interview in detail；
indeed； to tell the perfect truth； I was punished for my rash attempt
to surprise her by a temporary eclipse of my own perspicacity。 She
sat there so questioning； so perceptive； so genial； so generous； and
so pretty withal； that I was quite ready at the end of half an hour
to