Mel [Fräulein Marie Stieffel] was a first-rate musician, and played the piano beautifully. The first time I remember really appreciating music was on one winter afternoon. I was alone in the sitting-room, trying to do my lessons, perched up on my favourite window-seat. In reality I was listening to the trio my governess was playing in the next room with a violinist and ’cello player, friends of hers, who used sometimes to come over from Mannheim to make music with her. I don’t know what they were playing,—it was probably something classical,—but it began to affect me very strangely. I felt horribly sad, but I wasn’t crying. I was simply longing for something, but I didn’t know what. After a while they left off playing, and Mel came into the sitting-room to see what I was doing. Evidently I didn’t look quite normal, for she asked me what was the matter. I said in a choking voice, “ I think I have a sore throat.” I hadn’t a sore throat, but it was the first time I had ever had a lump in my throat, and I didn’t know what it meant then.