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“You’ll go travelling about the world, giving concerts here, there, and everywhere. I wish I were strong enough to go with you.”

Ormarr laughed again, but without heartiness.

“Grahl, my dear master, why not? Come with me! Nowadays, with trains de luxe and floating palaces, it will be pleasant as could be. And at least I should have some one to play for.”

“I... to travel... after all? It’s late in the day... and not exactly the way I had once thought....”

Ormarr sprang to his feet, but sat down again.

“Grahl, you are my friend—the best I have, I think. I must tell you something now—something that has happened to me. Listen: I do not care about the concert tomorrow—it means nothing. Fame is nothing to me now. To tell the truth, I shudder at the thought of going about playing for people I do not know, and should not care to know. Strangers—foreigners! It makes me a piece of common property; one of the artistic wonders of the world. And then to see my name, my portrait, on huge posters everywhere... read interviews with myself, criticisms of my art—Grahl, the thought of it sickens me. I won’t—I can’t—oh, if only I could get out of it now, before....”