A Man
He can tickle the ivories, all right, all right!
A Critic
Well, at any rate, he doesn’t try to imitate Paderewski.
The Great Pianist
(Relieved by the non-appearance of the hisses he expected.) Well, it’s lucky for me that I’m not in Leipzig to-day! But in Leipzig an artist runs no risks: the beer is pure. The authorities see to that. The worse enemy of technic is biliousness, and biliousness is sure to follow bad beer. (He gets to the coda at last and takes it at a somewhat livelier pace.)
The Virgin
How I envy the woman he loves! How it would thrill me to feel his arms about me—to be drawn closer, closer, closer! I would give up the whole world! What are conventions, prejudices, legal forms, morality, after all? Vanities! Love is beyond and above them all—and art is love! I think I must be a pagan.