And yet, though till this moment he had never spoken to him, he could hardly regard Falbe as a stranger, for he had heard him say on the piano what his sister understood by the songs of Brahms and Schubert.

He could not help glancing at Falbe's hands, as they busied themselves with the filling and lighting of a pipe, and felt that he knew something of those long, broad-tipped fingers, smooth and white and strong.

The man himself he found to be quite different to what he had expected; he had seen him before, eager and intent and anxious-faced, absorbed in the task of following another mind; now he looked much younger, much more boyish.
"No, it's my first visit to Baireuth," he said, "and I can't tell you how excited I am about it.

I've been looking forward to it so much that I almost expect to be disappointed." Falbe blew out a cloud of smoke and laughter.
"Oh, you're safe enough," he said.

"Baireuth never disappoints.