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By Root 873 0

loud conversation all around, he suddenly begins to play, little by little commanding general silence. This small broad-shouldered man who appeared in the middle of the hall in a loud yellow suit, struck everybody with amazement. And what did he play? A ballad, a barcarole, a dance, a Hungarian dance by Brahms, a passionate potpourri—playing with a raw, swelling sound that penetrated everywhere. As he tilted his head sharply to one side, the entire scene took on an air of near-mystery, what with his sudden unscheduled appearance in the middle of the dimly lighted hall, his conspicuous exterior, and a bewildering, frenzied finger technique which produced the image of a wizard. He went on for several minutes, with the public still motionless in their seats; then, standing stock-still, with only his arm moving and his head tilted as before, he switched to a weighty, powerful pathos, a fortissimo passage with the force of a fanfare. Having turned up so unexpectedly, catching even the program committee off guard, he took these ordinary townspeople and peasants by storm. They couldn’t figure it out—in their eyes this performance became much better than it actually was, better than everything else, that’s how excellent it seemed, though he was playing with reckless vehemence. But after four or five minutes had elapsed, he suddenly produced some ghastly strokes, a desperate howl, a sound of woe so intolerable, so shocking, that nobody knew any longer where he was going; he made three or four such strokes and then abruptly broke off. He removed the violin from under his chin and ceased playing.

A full minute passed before people collected themselves; finally they burst into a wild applause, which went on and on, mingled with cries of bravo—some jumped on their seats and shouted bravo. The organist accepted his violin with a deep bow, patted it with his hand and put it gently down; then he took Nagel’s hand and thanked him repeatedly. In the midst of the general pandemonium, Dr. Stenersen came rushing up, grabbed Nagel by the arm and exclaimed, “God damn it, man, you do play, despite everything—despite everything!”

Miss Andresen, sitting next to him, was still looking at him, quite flabbergasted. “Why, you told us you couldn’t play!” she said.

“And I can’t,” he replied, “not much, nothing worth speaking of, and I frankly admit it. If you only knew how false, how little authentic, it was! But I made it look very authentic, didn’t I? Heh-heh-heh, one has to make the world sit up and take notice, one mustn’t cramp one’s style! ... But shouldn’t we get back to our drinks? And, please, ask Miss Gude to join us!”

They returned to their tables. Everyone was still taken up with this mysterious person who had so dazzled them; even Mr. Reinert paused for a moment and told him in passing, “I want to thank you for being so kind as to invite me to a bachelor party at your place the other evening. I couldn’t come, I was engaged; but I’m very grateful, it was awfully kind of you.”

“But why did you make those terrible strokes at the end?” Miss Andresen asked.

“I don’t really know,” Nagel replied. “But that’s how it turned out. I wanted to catch a devil by the tail.”

Dr. Stenersen again came up to offer his compliments, and once more Nagel replied that his playing was sheer farce, humbug, full of cheap effects; if they only knew how mediocre it was! The double fingerings were false, oh yes, most of them were a bit off key, he was quite aware of it but couldn’t do any better-he’ d been out of practice for so long.2

More and more stragglers came by their table; they sat there to the very last minute, while people were streaming out. By the time they got up to go, the lights in the hall were being turned out. It was two-thirty in the morning.

Nagel leaned over to Martha and whispered, “I’ll have to walk you home, don’t you think? I want to tell you something.”

He hastened to pay his bill, said good night to Miss Andresen and followed Martha out. She had no coat, only an umbrella, which she tried to hide because it was so full of holes. As they