"Couldn't! I _would_ not. I was furious--awful.... I said a rude thing to Axel in passing, and went off the estrade. And _they_ all clapped together down there, bah!--though they knew it was not finished. They were sorry I had stopped--because they were people who like a difficult Caprice, to be amused by it. But I was not amused. Nor Peter, very much." He laughed sharply. "Don't, I say," said Philip. "It's all over now. It doesn't matter, really. Everybody forgets, now and then" ... "I do not," said Antoine. "I do not know how it is to forget. I know that thing--I know all the little notes, long ago, before Moricz--since years. It is not possible to _forget_ a little concert piece that you _know_...." "Did you go on again?" "Yes. After Wurst had finished talking, I had to. I should not have for my uncle, but I had to for him. He was violent, Wurst. He said it was indigne and lôche if I stopped, and a lot of other words. He was like a little dog barking. A man like Wurst does not 'rater.' He does not know how that is done. His head has all the big scores inside.... He did not see how it was for me to stand up on the estrade again, with quantities of beautiful people looking kind. It would have been so better if they had siffli, like here in Paris." The book closes on an unexpected and suggestive note. Antoine, who had always realized that his grandfather couldn't bear his being "different" in music, had taken quietly to composing the kind of things he loved. He "made" a quintet in which Ribiera was given a brilliant piano part, and which he thought beautiful--extremely. But when they played it for him, though he was moved to cry, he found its "ideas" not so good as he had thought. Whereupon he plans to produce better ones in his new overture. _Succession_ is a masterpiece of art, and Antoine is the most lovable and interesting character in new fiction. The Meaning of Bergsonism LLEWELLYN JONES