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Updated: June 8, 2025
He arranged to go there at times when he knew that Hecht would be out to avoid having to talk to him. The precaution was superfluous, for the only time he met Hecht, he hardly did more than ask him a few indifferent questions about his health. He was immured in a prison of silence when, one morning, he received an invitation from Madame Roussin to a musical soiree: a famous quartet was to play.
They parted until the following day. Kohn was not sorry to be rid of Christophe by doing him this service. Next day Christophe fetched Kohn at his office. On his advice, he had brought several of his compositions to show to Hecht. They found him in his music-shop near the Opera.
Between the two extremes represented by shabby, crack-brained Cousin Parnelia and elegant, sardonic old Professor Kennedy, there were many other habitual visitors at the house raw, earnest, graceless students of both sexes, touchingly grateful for the home atmosphere they were allowed to enter; a bushy-haired Single-tax fanatic named Hecht, who worked in the iron-foundries by day, and wrote political pamphlets by night; Miss Lindström, the elderly Swedish woman laboring among the poor negroes of Flytown; a constant sprinkling from the Scandinavian-Americans whose well-kept truck-farms filled the region near the Marshall home; one-armed Mr.
"I don't need to be told that," he said irritably. "I fancy," said Hecht, "that you showed me them for me to say what I thought." "Not at all." "Then," said Hecht coldly, "I fail to see what you have come for." "I came to ask for work, and nothing else." "I have nothing to offer you for the time being, except what I told you. And I'm not sure of that. I said it was possible, that's all."
Gall, where we had an invitation from Schadrowsky, a young musical director, to give our support to a society concert in that district. We stayed together at the Hecht inn, and the Princess entertained us as if she had been in her own house. She gave me and my wife a room next her own private apartment. Unfortunately a most trying night was in store for us.
Christophe would gladly have done without Hecht: but the other publishers were even worse. There were also wealthy amateurs who had conceived some scrap of a musical idea, and could not even write it down. They would send for Christophe, hum over their lucubrations, and say: "Isn't it fine?" They were quite convinced that they had composed them themselves.
The articles were all sent to Christophe, and he despised them, though they made him suffer for all that. He wasted his time, his strength, his money, and his only weapons, since in the lightness of his heart he was rash enough to deprive himself of the publicity which his music gained through Hecht. Suddenly there was a complete change. The article announced in the paper never appeared.
My mind was set at rest not a little on hearing that you had been able to continue your journey to Munich without mishap. There you will be able to rest a little more comfortably than at the Hecht of St. Gallen. Rest? Ye indefatigable ones! A thousand ardent blessings follow you everywhere. What you have become to me your hearts will tell you.
But meanwhile the outcry against him took its course: and the public, as usual, gulped down the most fatuous and shameful accusations. As though his position was not already difficult enough, Christophe chose that moment to quarrel with his publisher. He had no reason at all to complain of Hecht, who published each new work as it was written, and was honest in business.
For the time being they were in the period of the lean kine. Christophe had stayed up half the night to finish a dull piece of musical transcription for Hecht: he did not get to bed until dawn, and slept like a log to make up for lost time. Olivier had gone out early: he had a lecture to give at the other end of Paris. About eight o'clock the porter came with the letters, and rang the bell.
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