Photini was invited to play for her pleasure, and this introduction to the highest music was astonishment to her. Her fine nature recognised mastery, though the riddle was unexplained to her senses. She could not at a leap mount such heights of sound, where the melodies seemed to disport in waves and thunder, with sprays of foam and the facets of jewels. She approached Photini for help.
Photini measured her mercilessly with her formidable gaze,—dwelt on her physical exquisiteness, and smiled sardonically.
“You have beauty, mademoiselle. Be thankful for that, and leave art to those who have souls to comprehend it.”
“Finger-tips as well, and perseverance,” said Inarime, archly.
“Oh, I see. You are not a doll. Well, come to see me any morning, and I’ll play till your ears ache.”
Photini turned on her heel, and beckoned to Rudolph, who gloomily trotted after her into the conservatory.
Selaka returned to Athens for the meeting of German archæologists, and was cordially invited to stay for a few days at the Austrian Embassy.