Under their spell the music
soared, trembling, paused and soared again, thrilling those who heard
it with its grief and tenderness.
Edouard's heart leaped with triumph. "The man knows," he whispered to
the violin; "he understands us. He knows."
The people, leaning with their elbows on the tables before them, the
waiters listening with tolerant smiles, the musicians following
Edouard with anxious pride, saw only a young man with his arm thrown
heavily across the back of his chair, who was looking up at Edouard
with a steady, searching gaze. But Edouard saw in him both a disciple
and a master. He saw that this man was lifted up and carried with
him, that he understood the message of the music. The notes of the
violin sank lower and lower, until they melted into the silence of
the room, and the people, freed of the spell the music had put upon
them, applauded generously. Edouard placed his violin under his arm,
and with his eyes, which had never left Corbin's face, still fastened
upon his, bowed low to him, and Corbin raised his head and nodded
gravely. It was as though they were the only people in the room. As
Edouard retreated his face was shining with triumph, for he knew that
the other had understood him, and that the other knew that he knew.
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