WOISTDEINSCHWERT？\"
Harsanyismiled，buthedidnotlookforthagainuntilSIEGLINDEreappeared。ShewentthroughthestoryofhershamefulbridalfeastandintotheWalhall’music，which
shealwayssangsonobly，andtheentranceoftheone—
eyedstranger：——
\"MIRALLEIN
WECKTEDASAUGE。\"
Mrs。Harsanyiglancedatherhusband，wonderingwhetherthesingeronthestagecouldnotfeelhiscommandingglance。OncametheCRESCENDO：——
\"WASJEICHVERLOR，WASJEICHBEWEINT
WAR’MIRGEWONNEN。\"
（AllthatIhavelost，AllthatIhavemourned，WouldIthenhavewon。）
Harsanyitouchedhiswife’sarmsoftly。
Seatedinthemoonlight，theVOLSUNGpairbegantheirlovinginspectionofeachother’sbeauties，andthemusicbornofmurmuringsoundpassedintoherface，astheoldpoetsaid，——andintoherbodyaswell。Intoonelovelyattitudeafteranotherthemusicswepther，loveimpelledher。Andthevoicegaveoutallthatwasbestinit。Likethespring，indeed，itblossomedintomemoriesandprophe—
cies，itrecountedanditforetold，asshesangthestoryofherfriendlesslife，andofhowthethingwhichwastrulyherself，\"brightastheday，rosetothesurface\"wheninthehostileworldsheforthefirsttimebeheldherFriend。
Ferventlysheroseintothehardierfeelingofactionanddaring，theprideinhero—strengthandhero—blood，untilinasplendidburst，tallandshininglikeaVictory，shechris—
tenedhim：——
\"SIEGMUND——
SONENNICHDICH！\"
Herimpatiencefortheswordswelledwithherantici—
pationofhisact，andthrowingherarmsaboveherhead，shefairlytoreaswordoutoftheemptyairforhim，beforeNOTHUNGhadleftthetree。INHOCHSTERTRUNKENHEIT，in—
deed，sheburstoutwiththeflamingcryoftheirkinship：
\"IfyouareSIEGMUND，IamSIEGLINDE！\"Laughing，sing—
ing，bounding，exulting，——withtheirpassionandtheirsword，——theVOLSUNGSranoutintothespringnight。
Asthecurtainfell，Harsanyiturnedtohiswife。\"Atlast，\"hesighed，\"somebodywithENOUGH！Enoughvoiceandtalentandbeauty，enoughphysicalpower。Andsuchanoble，noblestyle！\"
\"Icanscarcelybelieveit，Andor。Icanseehernow，thatclumsygirl，hunchedupoveryourpiano。Icanseehershoul—
ders。Shealwaysseemedtolaborsowithherback。AndI
shallneverforgetthatnightwhenyoufoundhervoice。\"
Theaudiencekeptupitsclamoruntil，aftermanyre—
appearanceswiththetenor，Kronborgcamebeforethecur—
tainalone。Thehousemetherwitharoar，agreetingthatwasalmostsavageinitsfierceness。Thesinger’seyes，sweepingthehouse，restedforamomentonHarsanyi，andshewavedherlongsleevetowardhisbox。
\"SheOUGHTtobepleasedthatyouarehere，\"saidMrs。
Harsanyi。\"Iwonderifsheknowshowmuchsheowestoyou。\"
\"Sheowesmenothing，\"repliedherhusbandquickly。
\"Shepaidherway。Shealwaysgavesomethingback，eventhen。\"
\"Irememberyousaidoncethatshewoulddonothingcommon，\"saidMrs。Harsanyithoughtfully。
\"Justso。Shemightfail，die，getlostinthepack。Butifsheachieved，itwouldbenothingcommon。Therearepeoplewhomonecantrustforthat。Thereisonewayinwhichtheywillneverfail。\"Harsanyiretiredintohisownreflections。
AfterthesecondactFredOttenburgbroughtArchietotheHarsanyis’boxandintroducedhimasanoldfriendofMissKronborg。Theheadofamusicalpublishinghousejoinedthem，bringingwithhimajournalistandthepresi—
dentofaGermansingingsociety。Theconversationwas
chieflyaboutthenewSIEGLINDE。Mrs。Harsanyiwasgra—
ciousandenthusiastic，herhusbandnervousanduncom—
municative。Hesmiledmechanically，andpolitelyan—
sweredquestionsaddressedtohim。\"Yes，quiteso。\"\"Oh，certainly。\"Everyone，ofcourse，saidveryusualthingswithgreatconviction。Mrs。Harsanyiwasusedtohearingandutteringthecommonplaceswhichsuchoccasionsde—
manded。Whenherhusbandwithdrewintotheshadow，shecoveredhisretreatbyhersympathyandcordiality。
InreplytoadirectquestionfromOttenburg，Harsanyisaid，flinching，\"ISOLDE？Yes，whynot？Shewillsingallthegreatroles，Ishouldthink。\"
Thechorusdirectorsaidsomethingabout\"dramatictemperament。\"Thejournalistinsistedthatitwas\"ex—
plosiveforce，\"\"projectingpower。\"
OttenburgturnedtoHarsanyi。\"Whatisit，Mr。Har—
sanyi？MissKronborgsaysifthereisanythinginher，youarethemanwhocansaywhatitis。\"
Thejournalistscentedcopyandwaseager。\"Yes，Har—
sanyi。Youknowallabouther。What’shersecret？\"
Harsanyirumpledhishairirritablyandshruggedhisshoulders。\"Hersecret？Itiseveryartist’ssecret，\"——hewavedhishand，——\"passion。Thatisall。Itisanopensecret，andperfectlysafe。Likeheroism，itisinimitableincheapmaterials。\"
Thelightswentout。FredandArchielefttheboxasthesecondactcameon。
Artisticgrowthis，morethanitisanythingelse，arefiningofthesenseoftruthfulness。Thestupidbelievethattobetruthfuliseasy；onlytheartist，thegreatartist，knowshowdifficultitis。ThatafternoonnothingnewcametoTheaKronborg，noenlightenment，noinspiration。Shemerelycameintofullpossessionofthingsshehadbeenrefiningandperfectingforsolong。Herinhibitionschancedtobefewerthanusual，and，withinherself，sheenteredintotheinheritancethatsheherselfhadlaidup，intothe
fullnessofthefaithshehadkeptbeforesheknewitsnameoritsmeaning。
Oftenwhenshesang，thebestshehadwasunavailable；
shecouldnotbreakthroughtoit，andeverysortofdis—
tractionandmischancecamebetweenitandher。Butthisafternoontheclosedroadsopened，thegatesdropped。
Whatshehadsooftentriedtoreach，layunderherhand。
Shehadonlytotouchanideatomakeitlive。
Whileshewasonthestageshewasconsciousthateverymovementwastherightmovement，thatherbodywasabsolutelytheinstrumentofheridea。Notfornothinghadshekeptitsoseverely，keptitfilledwithsuchenergyandfire。Allthatdeep—rootedvitalityfloweredinhervoice，herface，inherveryfinger—tips。Shefeltlikeatreeburstingintobloom。Andhervoicewasasflexibleasherbody；equaltoanydemand，capableofeveryNUANCE。
Withthesenseofitsperfectcompanionship，itsentiretrustworthiness，shehadbeenabletothrowherselfintothedramaticexigenciesofthepart，everythinginheratitsbestandeverythingworkingtogether。
Thethirdactcameon，andtheafternoonslippedby。
TheaKronborg’sfriends，oldandnew，seatedaboutthehouseondifferentfloorsandlevels，enjoyedhertriumphaccordingtotheirnatures。Therewasonethere，whomnobodyknew，whoperhapsgotgreaterpleasureoutofthatafternoonthanHarsanyihimself。Upinthetopgal—
leryagray—hairedlittleMexican，witheredandbrightasastringofpeppersbesidea’dobedoor，keptprayingandcursingunderhisbreath，beatingonthebrassrailingandshouting\"Bravo！Bravo！\"untilhewasrepressedbyhisneighbors。
HehappenedtobetherebecauseaMexicanbandwastobeafeatureofBarnumandBailey’scircusthatyear。
OneofthemanagersoftheshowhadtraveledabouttheSouthwest，signingupalotofMexicanmusiciansatlowwages，andhadbroughtthemtoNewYork。Amongthem
wasSpanishJohnny。AfterMrs。Tellamantezdied，Johnnyabandonedhistradeandwentoutwithhismandolintopickupalivingforone。Hisirregularitieshadbecomehisregularmodeoflife。
WhenTheaKronborgcameoutofthestageentranceonFortiethStreet，theskywasstillflamingwiththelastraysofthesunthatwassinkingoffbehindtheNorthRiver。Alittlecrowdofpeoplewaslingeringaboutthedoor——musiciansfromtheorchestrawhowerewaitingfortheircomrades，curiousyoungmen，andsomepoorlydressedgirlswhowerehopingtogetaglimpseofthesinger。Shebowedgraciouslytothegroup，throughherveil，butshedidnotlooktotherightorleftasshecrossedthesidewalktohercab。Hadsheliftedhereyesaninstantandglancedoutthroughherwhitescarf，shemusthaveseentheonlymaninthecrowdwhohadremovedhishatwhensheemerged，andwhostoodwithitcrushedupinhishand。Andshewouldhaveknownhim，changedashewas。Hislustrousblackhairwasfullofgray，andhisfacewasagooddealwornbytheEXTASI，sothatitseemedtohaveshrunkawayfromhisshiningeyesandteethandleftthemtooprominent。Butshewouldhaveknownhim。
Shepassedsonearthathecouldhavetouchedher，andhedidnotputonhishatuntilhertaxihadsnortedaway。
ThenhewalkeddownBroadwaywithhishandsinhisovercoatpockets，wearingasmilewhichembracedallthestreamoflifethatpassedhimandthelightedtowersthatroseintothelimpidblueoftheeveningsky。Ifthesinger，goinghomeexhaustedinhercab，waswonderingwhatwasthegoodofitall，thatsmile，couldshehaveseenit，wouldhaveansweredher。Itistheonlycommensurateanswer。
HerewemustleaveTheaKronborg。Fromthistimeonthestoryofherlifeisthestoryofherachievement。
Thegrowthofanartistisanintellectualandspiritual
developmentwhichcanscarcelybefollowedinapersonalnarrative。Thisstoryattemptstodealonlywiththesim—
pleandconcretebeginningswhichcolorandaccentanartist’swork，andtogivesomeaccountofhowaMoon—
stonegirlfoundherwayoutofavague，easy—goingworldintoalifeofdisciplinedendeavor。Anyaccountoftheloyaltyofyoungheartstosomeexaltedideal，andthepassionwithwhichtheystrive，willalways，insomeofus，rekindlegenerousemotions。
EndofPartVI