" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. Do not mistake me. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. “He dissembles,” he said. ’ Melusine glared.
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