"I never saw a puppet-play," said Mark. "Well, you have seen us," said Carricchio; "we are much the same. We move ourselves--they are moved by wires; but we do just the same things--we are life and we are art, in the burletta we are both. I often think which is which--which is the imposture and which is the masque. Then I think that somewhere there must be a higher art that surpasses the realism of life--a divine art which is not life but fashions life. "When I look at you, little one," Carricchio went on, "I feel almost as I do when the violins break in upon the jar and fret of the wittiest dialogue. Jest and lively fancy--these are the sweets of life, no doubt--and humorous thought and speech and gesture--but they are not this divine art, they are not rest. They shrivel and wither the brain. The whole being is parched, the heart is dry in this sultry, piercing light. But when the stringed melodies steal in, and when the rippling, surging arpeggios and crescendos sweep in upon the sense, and the stilled cadences that lull and soothe--then, indeed, it is like moisture and the gracious dew. It is like sleep; the strained nerves relax; the overwrought frame, which is like dry garden mould, is softened, and the flowers spring up again." Carricchio paused; but as Mark said nothing, he went on again. "The other life is gay, lively, bright, full of excitement and interest, of tender pity even, and of love--but this is rest and peace. The other is human life, but what is this? Art? Ah! but a divine art. Here is no struggle, no selfish desire, no striving, no conflict of love or of hate. It is like silence, the most unselfish thing there is. I have, indeed, sometimes thought that music must be the silence of heaven." "The silence of heaven!" said Mark, with open eyes. "The silence of heaven! What, then, are its words?" "Ah! that," said the old clown, smiling, but with a sad slowness in his speech, "is beyond me to tell. I can hear its silence, but not its voice." V. THE private theatre in the palace was a room of very moderate size, for the audience was necessarily very small; in fact, the stage was larger than the auditorium. The play took place in the afternoon, and there was no artificial light; many of the operatic performances in Italy, indeed, took place in the open air.