Chapter 7 - Page 2

someone. "You did not understand a man living among you; you have not understood him! He is not a mercenary artist, not a mechanical performer, not a lunatic or a lost man. He is a genius - a great musical genius who has perisheed among you unnoticed and unappreciated!"

Albert at once understood of whom his friend was speaking, but not wishing to embarrass him he modestly lowered his head.

"The holy fire that we all serve has consumed him like a blade of straw!" the voice went on, "but he has fulfilled all that God implanted in him and should therefore be called a great man. You could despise, torment, humiliate him," the voice continued, growing louder and louder - "but he was, is, and will be, immeasurably higher than you all. He is happy, he is kind. He loves or despises all alike, but serves only that which was implanted in him from above. He loves but one thing - beauty, the one indubitable blessing in the world. Yes, such is the man! Fall prostrate before him, all of you! On your knees!" he cried aloud.

But another voice came mildly from the opposite corner of the hall: "I do not wish to bow my knees before him," said the voice, which Albert immediately recognized as Delesov's. "Wherein is he great? Why should we bow before him? Did he behave honourably and justly? Has he been of any use to society? Don't we know how he borrowed money and did not return it, and how he carried away his fellow-artist's violin and pawned it? ..."

("Oh God, how does he know all that?" thought Albert, hanging his head still lower.)

"Do we not know how he flattered the most insignificant people, flattered them for the sake of money?" Delesov continued - "Don't we know how he was expelled from the theatre? And how Anna Ivanovna wanted to send him to the police?"

("O God! That is all true, but defend me, Thou who alone knowest why I did it!" muttered Albert.)

"Cease, for shame!" Petrov's voice began again. "What right have you to accuse him? Have you lived his life? Have you experienced his rapture? ("True, true!" whispered Albert.)

"Art is the highest manifestation of power in man. It is given to a few of the elect, and raises the chosen one to such a height as turns the head and makes it difficult for him to remain sane. In Art, as in every struggle, there are heroes who have devoted themselves entirely to its service and have perished without having reached the goal."

Petrov stopped, and Albert raised his head and cried out: "True, true!" but his voice died away without a sound.

"It does not concern you," said the artist Petrov, turning to him severely. "Yes, humiliate and despise him," he continued, "but yet he is the best and happiest of you all."

Albert, who had