“Yes”—continues Schumann—”but you’ll have to suffer first—like me, who will have to kill myself very soon; because I am going mad—and that’s worse than any blindness! and like Beethoven who went deaf, poor demigod! and like all the rest of us who’ve been singing to you to-night; that’s why our songs never pall—because we are acquainted with grief, and have good memories, and are quite sincere. The older you get, the more you will love us and our songs: other songs may come and go in the ear; but ours go ringing in the heart forever!”
In some such fashion did the great masters of tune and tone discourse to Barty through Father Louis’s well-trained finger-tips. They always discourse to you a little about yourself, these great masters, always; and always in a manner pleasing to your self-lov
