last　scene　at　the　Tower　of　Babel。
  Having　accomplished　this　to　its　evident
  satisfaction；　the　audience　proceeded；　like
  the　closing　phrase　of　the
  ‘‘Goetterdaemmerung''　Dead　March；　to　become
  exceedingly　quietthen　expectant。
  This　expectancy　lasted　fully　three
  minutes。　Then　there　were　some　impatient
  handclappings。　A　few　persons
  whispered：　‘‘Why　is　he　late？''　‘‘Why
  doesn't　he　come？''　‘‘I　wonder　where
  Diotti　is；''　and　then　came　unmistakable
  signs　of　impatience。　At　its　height
  Perkins　appeared；　hesitatingly。　Nervous
  and　jerky　he　walked　to　the　center　of
  the　stage；　and　raised　his　hand　begging
  silence。　The　audience　was　stilled。
  ‘‘Ladies　and　gentlemen；''　he　falteringly
  said；　‘‘Signor　Diotti　left　his　hotel
  at　seven　o'clock　and　was　driven　to　the
  Academy。　The　call…boy　rapped　at　his
  dressing…room；　and　not　receiving　a　reply；
  opened　the　door　to　find　the　room
  empty。　We　have　despatched　searchers
  in　every　direction　and　have　sent　out　a
  police　alarm。　We　fear　some　accident
  has　befallen　the　Signor。　We　ask　your
  indulgence　for　the　keen　disappointment；
  and　beg　to　say　that　your　money　will　be
  refunded　at　the　box…office。''
  Diotti　had　disappeared　as　completely
  as　though　the　earth　had　swallowed　him。
  V
  My　Dearest　Sister：　　You
  doubtless　were　exceedingly　mystified
  and　troubled　over　the　report　that
  was　flashed　to　Europe　regarding　my
  sudden　disappearance　on　the　eve　of　my
  second　concert　in　New　York。
  Fearing；　sweet　Francesca；　that　you
  might　mourn　me　as　dead；　I　sent　the
  cablegram　you　received　some　weeks
  since；　telling　you　to　be　of　good　heart
  and　await　my　letter。　To　make　my　action
  thoroughly　understood　I　must　give
  you　a　record　of　what　happened　to　me
  from　the　first　day　I　arrived　in
  America。　I　found　a　great　interest　mani…
  fested　in　my　premiere；　and　socially
  everything　was　done　to　make　me　happy。
  Mrs。　James　Llewellyn；　whom；　you
  no　doubt　remember；　we　met　in　Florence
  the　winter　of　18；　immediately　after　I
  reached　New　York　arranged　a　reception
  for　me；　which　was　elegant　in　the
  extreme。　But　from　that　night　dates
  my　misery。
  You　ask　her　name？Mildred　Wallace。
  Tell　me　what　she　is　like；　I　hear
  you　say。　Of　graceful　height；　willowy
  and　exquisitely　molded；　not　over　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　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　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。
  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。
  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　fe