"And in that wilderness of tone I seemed to fall asleep and dream,--a dream I have already begun to follow up, and _will_ fulfil. I have heard it said, Carl, that sometimes great players who are no authors have given ideas in their random moments to the greatest writers, that these have reproduced at leisure,--I suppose much as a painter takes notions from the colored clouds and verdant shadows; but I don't know. Florimond, who is certainly no writer, has given me an idea for a new musical poem, and what is more strange, I have half finished it, and have the whole in my mind." "Maria! have you actually been writing?" I sprang from the sofa quite wild, though I merely foresaw some touching memento, in wordless _Lied_ or _scherzo_ for one-voiced instrument, of a one-hearted theme. "I have not written a note, Carl,--that remains to be done, and that is why I came back so soon, to be undisturbed, and to learn of you; for you know more about these things than I do,--for instance, how to arrange a score." "Maria, you are not going to write in score? If so, pray wait until the Chevalier comes back." "The Chevalier! as if I should ever plague him about my writing. Besides, I am most particularly anxious to finish it before any one knows it is begun." "But, Maria, what will you do? I never heard of a woman writing in score except for exercise; and how will you be pleased to hear it never once?" "Ah! we shall know about that when it is written." "Maria, you look very evil,--evil as an elf; but you are pale enough already. What if this work make you ill?" "Nothing ever makes us ill that we like to do, only what we like to have. I acknowledge, Carl, that it might make me ill if this symphony were to be rehearsed, with a full band, before the Chevalier. But as nothing of that kind can happen, I shall take my own way." "A symphony, Maria? The Chevalier says that the symphony is the highest style of music, and that none can even attempt it but the most formed, as well as naturally framed musicians." "I should think I knew that; but it is not in me to attempt any but the highest effect. I would rather fail there than succeed in an inferior. The structure of the symphony is quite clear to my brain,--it always has been so; for I believe I understand it naturally, though I never knew why until now. Carl, a woman has never yet dared anything of the kind, and if I wait a few years longer I must give it up entirely. If I am married, my thoughts will not make themselves ready, and now they haunt me." "Maria, do _not_ write! Wait, at least, until Anastase returns, and ask his own advice." "Carl, I never knew you cold before,--what is it? As if Florimond could advise me! Could I advise him how to improve his present method? and why should I wait? I shall not expose myself; it is for myself alone."