Yes, we had met. Perhaps it had been inevitable since the beginning of time that we should meet; but it was none the less amazing. Perhaps I had inwardly known that we should meet; but, none the less, I was astounded when a coated and muffled figure came up swiftly to me in the emptying foyer, and said: 'Ah! you are here! I cannot leave without thanking you for your sympathy. I have never before felt such sympathy while playing.' It was a golden voice, pitched low, and the words were uttered with a very slight foreign accent, which gave them piquancy. I could not reply; something rose in my throat, and the caressing voice continued: 'You are pale. Do you feel ill? What can I do? Come with me to the artists' room; my secretary is there.' I put out a hand gropingly, for I could not see clearly, and I thought I should reel and fall. It touched his shoulder. He took my arm, and we went; no one had noticed us, and I had not spoken a word. In the room to which he guided me, through a long and sombre corridor, there was no sign of a secretary. I drank some water. 'There, you are better!' he cried. 'Thank you,' I said, but scarcely whispering. 'How fortunate I ventured to come to you just at that moment! You might have fallen'; and he smiled again. I shook my head. I said: 'It was your coming--that--that--made me dizzy!' 'I profoundly regret--' he began. 'No, no,' I interrupted him; and in that instant I knew I was about to say something which society would, justifiably, deem unpardonable in a girl situated as I was. 'I am so glad you came'; and I smiled, courageous and encouraging. For once in my life--for the first time in my adult life--I determined to be my honest self to another. 'Your voice is exquisitely beautiful,' he murmured. I thrilled.