A low, long note was heard
like the drone of a bee, which went on, sometimes rising and sometimes
getting lower, like a strange throbbing sob; and then once more it
ceased. The audience hesitated a moment, being not quite certain whether
the music was really finished or not. Then when they saw Margaritis rise
from the piano, some meagre well-bred applause was heard, and an immense
sigh of relief. The people streamed into the other rooms, and the
conversation became loud and general.
The lady who had talked went quickly into the next room to find out what
was the right thing to say about the music, and if possible to get the
opinion of a musician.
Sir Anthony Holdsworth, who had translated Pindar, was talking to Ralph
Enderby, who had written a book on "Modern Greek Folk Lore."
"It hurts me," said Sir Anthony, "to hear ancient Greek pronounced like
that. It is impossible to distinguish the words; besides which its wrong
to pronounce ancient Greek like modern Greek. Did you understand it?"
"No," said Ralph Enderby, "I did not. If it is modern Greek it was
certainly wrongly pronounced. I think the man must be singing some kind
of Asiatic dialect--unless he's a fraud."
Hard by there was another group discussing the music: Blythe, the
musical critic, and Lawson, who had the reputation of being a great
connoisseur.
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