"Oh! I come from a good school, for Aronach is full of Bach. But do tell me about the others."
"The Andréites, as they call themselves, are not precisely inimical to Seraphael,—that would be impossible, he is so companionable, so free and truly great; but they, one and all, slight Bach, and as some of them are professors, and we all study under the professor of our voice or instrument in particular, it is a pity for the fresh comers to fall into the wrong set."
"But I am safe, at least, for I am certain that Anastase is of the right school."
"The very best; he is a Seraphaelite. They call us Seraphaelites, and we like it; but Seraphael does not like it, so we only use the word now for parole,—Bruderschaft."[2]
"Why, I wonder, does he not like it?"
"Because he is too well bred."
Oh, how I enjoyed that expression! It reminded me of Lenhart Davy and his sayings. I was just going to intrude another question when my intention was snapped by the ringing of the bell, which made a most imposing noise. The sound caused a sudden rush and rustle through the library; gowned and ungowned figures forsook the nooks and benches, and they each and all put by their books as deftly, dexterously as Millicent used to lay her thimble into her work-box when she was a wee maiden. They did not stare at me at all, which was very satisfactory; and I found occasion to admire all their faces. I told my companion so, and he laughed, rubbing his eyes and stretching; then he put his arm about my neck in strict fraternal fashion, which gratified me exceedingly, and not the less because he was evidently by several years my elder. We left the library together, and right rejoiced was I to hear myself speak again; the first thing that occurred to me to say, I said: "Oh! I wanted so much to know what is your instrument."
"I don't think I shall tell you," he replied, in a guileless voice, interesting as his behavior and language.
"Why not? I must know it at last, must I not?"
"Perhaps you will not think so well of me, when you know what I exist for."