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1868.] —not in prayer—but in rebellious remonstrance with God!

Why should this be?' I would ask. 'Why should I, the pure and the true, serve only as an instrument of use, in the hands of another, for my own misery?'

"But as the light of the never-darkened lamp that hung before the altar stole down in cool, pale rays over me, it seemed to recall the words of the stern Saint Paul:

Nay, but who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it: Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay of the same lump, to make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor?'

"One Sunday—it was Easter—we had a grand musical display in my organ-loft. A cardinal from Rome was to be present at the sacrifice, and I sent for the singers at the opera house to help me. The mass sung was the D Minor of Haydn—that sublime one in which the trumpet-notes seem as if they should be sounded by the silver trumpets of the ancient synagogue.

"Selma took the soprano solos. I forgot that she was my rival while listening to her singing. After executing the rippling passages of the Kyrie Elaison with unerring exactitude, her superb voice, entirely unaided by the organ or other instruments, attacked the high G of the major key of the Gloria in Excelsis.

"Full, round and rich-colored as a bursting pomegranate that Gloria floated off from her beautiful throat, filling the whole building with its splendor. I forgot mortal love and jealousy, and all the angel arose within me.

"When the violins played the soft melody which precedes the Et in terra pax, the notes sounded as if proceeding from angels of peace and love. Franz sang the invocation with a tenderness that gave an impetus to my new-born hopes, and when Selma responded the Pax hominibus, my whole soul felt emancipated from all the past torturing doubts.

"At the Offertory, Franz sang Stradella's hymn Pieta Sjgnore, and I alone accompanied him. Voice and instrument united as they had never done before. My ﬁngers drew out from the keys the solemn responses to this divine composition, whose melody is a successive harmony, and the prompt speech and light traveling tone of the Stopped Diapason, to which I added the Dulcinea, gave the organ part a character of great beauty and delicacy.

"My organ was a beautiful little instrument—it was Müller's—the one at Breslau, you know. It had only twelve registers, but it was large enough for the church, and moreover it was as docile as an obedient child.

"I threw all my strength of feeling into the music, and it seemed that Selma and Franz were drawn close to me by unseen hands. Their eyes were full of tears, and they looked tenderly at me: at least so I thought.

"How flute-like was the Benedicite! Even the holy priests at the altar paused to listen, as did the crowd, to Selma's crystal tones, that rose undimmed above the tutti of the whole choir and orchestra.

"After the joyful Hosanna came the Agnus Dei. Selma stood beside me, and appeared to be struggling with uncontrollable feelings; her voice sobbed out, rather than sung, the responses to the contr' alto solo, and a murmur of wonder and sympathy rose from the crowd when they noticed the tenderness and pathos in her voice.

"Franz sat near us, his beautiful face hidden in his hands, but I saw the tears trickling between his fingers, and his whole form trembled with emotion. At the close of the service I played one of Bach's organ passages, filled with multiplied melody, through which I desired to express not only the overflowing happiness of my heart, but a solemn thankfulness for the new life of faith and truth that seemed to be dawning for me.

"That night Selma and Franz fled together! I never saw them again. Those who pitied me said I was too noble and gifted to grieve for such an