hammered away for years. I had to learn difficult things at the start,
or none at all, or else those I improvised; and that's how I can play one
or two of Beethoven's symphonies pretty well, and this song, and a few
others, and go a cropper with a waltz. Will you come?"

They moved to the piano. No one at first noticed them. When he sat
down, he said:

"You remember the words?"

"Yes, I learned them by heart."

"Good!"

He gently struck the chords. His gentleness had, however, a firmness, a
deep persuasiveness, which drew every face like a call. A few chords
waving, as it were, over the piano, and then he whispered:

"Now."

"Please go on for a minute longer," she begged.

"My throat feels dry all at once."

"Face away from the rest, towards me," he said gently.

She did so. His voice took a note softly, and held it. Presently her
voice as softly joined it, his stopped, and hers went on:

"In the lodge of the Mother of Men,