She was a sharp high figure cutting the dark room. Her violin was a hard creature that sobbed and was soft. She and her violin and the huddled life of the world within the room were the music that was Bach. As she played she moved. She moved up and down: she was very free with her sweeping arm and her long legs walking as she played. From her freedom came an uttered Law and fell upon them all. They were struck by the clear strokes of her playing and her walking up and down: they were showered in the fire of this molten music.... David recaptured himself. He seemed to be sitting in a black pool of life. All of the lives of these about him were one: they were melted together. They had no being apart, they had no light. They were a black pool, stirless. Now he felt somewhere still a glow: under the black hush and above the strokes of the music. His senses went seeking a glow that he felt somewhere still. He sat on a couch. Next him a woman: next her a man. The music flooded and beat and these had no life against it. They were a dim base on which the music dwelt. Still he knew that this glow he felt was real and was near. It was a presence to him. His eyes wandered to find it. Against the music and himself and the room, his eyes went, seeking the magic more real than the music whereby he might come to life. They found! She was sitting far back at the other end of the couch: she was lost in the black pool of the room as no one else, so that he could not see her. Yet David knew her, glowing alone, and knew what precious thing this was which he had found in the world. Once more, and as never before, it came to him, that he had never known her: that he had never seen her. She was hidden there with her true magic, in a false real world, and he could not know her now, nor see her. But he knew that he wanted to know her, and that he wanted to see her. He sat with a new quiet holding him tenderly. The girl played on. A passionate fantasy flooded forth from the round mouth of the violin. It rocked the room. It tore at these submerged ones living there and shredded them in its measured frenzy. But David was quiet and sure. The world was a mad wild place for this moment dominioned: the music lashing it was also wild and was sunless, it was a river buried under rocks of the earth and making them tremble. The glow he had found was a warm place where he would dwell. The girl had stopped, she was leaning over her violin, she was packing it away. The guests moved slow and uncertain, like the maimed creatures they were. Their voices were splinters of their broken selves. They began to leave. Cornelia stood near the door. She was looking for David. She saw him. She saw that he did not want to escort her home. Very dimly his conscience was stirring in his mind. If she disappeared, his conscience would go also. It would leave no trace.