into anything she likes if she thinks one is worth while. She was very
amiable and gracious, and told me I must marry a German! Because, she
said, all good music is by rights, by natural rights, the property of
Germany.

I wanted to say what about Debussy, and Ravel, and Stravinski, but I
didn't.

She said how much she enjoyed these informal evenings at Kloster's, and
that she had a daughter about my age who was devoted, too, to music,
and a worshipper of Kloster's.

I asked if she was there, for there was a girl away in a corner, but
she looked shocked, and said "Oh no"; and after a pause she said again,
"Oh no. One doesn't bring one's daughter here."

"But I'm a daughter." I said,--I admit tactlessly; and she skimmed away
over that to things that sounded wise but weren't really, about violins
and the technique of fiddling.

Not that I haven't already felt it, the cleavage here in the classes;
but this was my first experience of the real thing, the real Junker
lady--the Koseritzes are Prussians. She, being married and mature, can
dabble if she likes in other sets, can come down as a bright patroness
from another world and clean her feathers in a refreshing mud bath, as
Kloster put it, commenting on his supper party at my lesson last
Friday; but she would carefully keep her young daughter out of it.

They made me play after supper. Actually Kloster brought out his Strad
and said I should play on that. It was evident he thought it important