Trilby

He had but one virtue-his love of His art; or, rather, his love of himself as a master of his art-the master; for he despised, or affected to despise, all other musicians, living or dead-even those whose work he interpreted so divinely, and pitied them for not hearing Svengali give utterance to their music, which of course they could not utter themselves. 'Ils safent tous un peu toucher du biano, mais pas grand chose!' He had been the best pianist of his time at the Conservatory in Leipsic; and, indeed, there was perhaps some excuse for this overweening conceit, since he was able to lend a quite peculiar individual charm of his own to any music he played, except the highest and best of all, in which he conspicuously failed.