"Oh, is Miss Lawrence here?" said Santonio, carelessly turning and looking over his shoulder to find her, though I daresay he knew she was there well enough. However, he came up now and took his stand by her side, and they soon began to talk. Rather relieved that the responsibility was taken off myself, I listened eagerly. It was fascinating in the extreme to me to see how Miss Lawrence spurned the arm of the gentleman who had come to look for her and to conduct her back; he was obliged to retire discomfited, and Santonio took no heed of him at all. I could not help thinking then that Miss Lawrence must have been everywhere and have seen everything, to be so self-possessed, for I could quite distinguish between her self-possession and Clara's,--the latter natural, the former acquired, however naturally worn. It was not long, nevertheless, before I received a shock. It was something in this way. Miss Lawrence had reverted to the festival, and she said to Santonio, "I had hopes of this young gentleman, because I thought he belonged to the conductor, who spoke to him between the parts; but he is as wise as the rest of us, and I can only say my conviction bids fair to become my faith." "Your conviction that you related to me in such a romantic narrative?" asked Santonio, without appearing much interested. But he warmed as he proceeded. "The wind was very poor at the festival, I heard." "They always say so in London about country performances, you know, either at least about the wind or the strings, or else one luckless oboe is held up to ridicule, or a solitary flute, or a desolate double-bass." "But if the solitary flute or bass render themselves absurd, they should be ridiculed far more in a general orchestra than in a particular quartet or so, for the effect of the master-players thus goes for nothing. I never yet heard a stringed force go through an oratorio, and its violent exercises for the _tutti_, without falling at least a tone." "Oh, the _primi_ were very well! and in fact, had all been flat together, it would have been unnoticeable; while the _tempi_ were marked so clearly, no one had time to criticise and analyze. But the organ had better have been quiet altogether; it would have looked very well, and nobody would have known it was not sounding." "I beg your pardon, every one would then have called out for more noise." "Not so, Mr. Santonio; there was quite body enough. But there sat Erfurt, groping, as he always does, for the pedals, and punching the keys, while the stops, all out, could very often not be got in in time, and we had _fortissimo_ against the fiddles." "I wonder your conductor did not give one little tap upon Erfurt's skull. So much for his own judgment, Miss Lawrence."