There was in particular an overture--the Melusine overture--which had the very sob of the waves.

Durrance had listened wondering, for the violin had spoken to him of many things of which the girl who played it could know nothing.

It had spoken of long perilous journeys and the faces of strange countries; of the silver way across moonlit seas; of the beckoning voices from the under edges of the desert.

It had taken a deeper, a more mysterious tone.

It had told of great joys, quite unattainable, and of great griefs too, eternal, and with a sort of nobility by reason of their greatness; and of many unformulated longings beyond the reach of words; but with never a single note of mere complaint.