"So Herr Director Kramser wrote me," the lady rejoined, in a tone sharper than it was her wont to use. She was aggrieved by the small degree of estimation shown in the young teacher's words for the Herr Director. "I shall be very sorry if your talent and capacity in this respect have been overrated by the Herr Director, for I laid special stress in my letter to him upon my desire that the tutor whom I engaged should be a good musician, not only because I wished that Lieschen should take lessons, but principally upon Fritzchen's account. I consider it of the first importance that a child should receive his primary instruction in music from a competent teacher."
"I cannot tell whether I shall be able to satisfy your desires in this respect, madame. I am but a dilettante, and have never given lessons in music. Here also I must pray you to make trial of me, as I will also try to adjust myself to my new duties. The future must show whether I can succeed in pleasing you and in satisfying myself. Will you allow me to give you some idea now of the amount of artistic skill I possess? the fine instrument yonder invites the test. You can at least judge whether my execution and touch are satisfactory, whether my voice pleases you. One does not like to purchase an article without first examining it; why should you engage a music-teacher without first hearing him? He can, unfortunately, give you no instant proof of his ability to impart instruction, but this is the case with every kind of teacher. I know from sad experience how large is the number of musicians, whom Heaven in its wrath has allowed to teach, who bring to their calling only the merest superficial facility, without the smallest vocation for teaching."
He arose as he spoke, and, without waiting for Frau von Osternau's permission, went towards the grand piano. It was open; Frau von Osternau, no mean performer herself, had been playing an hour or two before for her husband's entertainment, and had not closed it. Herr Pigglewitch looked at the notes upon the music-desk. "Beethoven," he said. "Is your daughter then so far advanced? It is refreshing nowadays to find such music open upon a piano. Young ladies whose execution is sufficiently brilliant to play the 'Moonlight Sonata' usually prefer to exhibit in what is called drawing-room music. Cultivated taste is but little thought of nowadays. The popular performers are those who can make most noise, and rattle off the greatest number of notes in a given time. I abhor such mere execution as I do the sentimental stuff so popular with the ladies of the present day."
Very admirable sentiments these, but in their ease and freedom of expression so very different from anything that Frau von Osternau had expected to hear from the tutor recommended by Director Kramser, that she looked in wide-eyed wonder at the singular person who, turning over the music and talking thus, appeared to have forgotten for the moment the purpose for which he had gone to the piano.
She believed herself exalted far above any aristocratic prejudice of rank; she prided herself upon the humanity and kindness of her treatment of inferiors, even of servants. The Inspectors of the estate and the various governesses she had employed had been treated almost like members of the family, she never had required of them the servile respect customary among people employed in such capacities by many families of rank, but the negligent ease of Gottlieb Pigglewitch's manner and address seemed to her scarcely permissible. She was tempted to recall him to a sense of his position, but while she was pondering upon how this could best be done, the young man had seated himself at the piano, his fingers were wandering over the keys, and in another moment Frau von Osternau had completely forgotten that she had wished to reprove, so intense was her enjoyment of the man's wonderful playing.
He had taken his place at the instrument to give some proof of his musical ability, but no sooner did his fingers touch the keys than this was quite forgotten, He had not played for weeks, he had even felt a kind of dislike of music, to the charm of which he had so often yielded involuntarily. In the melancholy in which he had been plunged life appeared to him so shallow and wearisome that he could not spur himself to the exertion of extricating himself from its cheerless misery. But now, when the first tones of the piano responded to his touch, they awakened within him memories of hours in which he had lost himself and revelled in the world of melody and harmony, music cast its spell around him once more, life dawned upon him afresh, and he gave expression in his playing to this feeling. He improvised so wondrously that Frau von Osternau was profoundly touched, and her husband forgot to look out into the court-yard, where the men were returning from the fields, he forgot all else save the music, to which he listened with head bent and clasped hands.
The last chord died away, the player dropped his hands from the keys upon which his gaze had rested dreamily, and turned to Frau von Osternau with a smile.
"Pardon me, madame," he said, "I forgot myself, and have given you my own wild fancies. I could not resist the impulse of the moment, it is my misfortune that I lack self-control. But I will try to improve, and will make an instant beginning by praying you to suggest something you would like to hear, only begging you not to ask to-day for what is mere technique. We will postpone that to another hour."
Frau von Osternau's eyes were moist as she replied,--
"You must play no more at present. I would not have the pleasure you have just given me disturbed by a single other note. You are an artist, a divinely-inspired artist, Herr----" She hesitated; she could not bear at the moment to pronounce the ridiculous name Pigglewitch, but it had to be done, nevertheless, and as she uttered it the spell that had held her was broken. The man's name recalled her to prosaic reality; again she was aware of the ugly, old-fashioned coat with its long pointed tails that hung down behind the music-stool and reached to the ground. There sat before her no longer the artist who had transported her to 'a purer ether,' but the Candidate Gottlieb Pigglewitch, awaiting her further commands.