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Updated: June 8, 2025
Unlike Wagner, that impudent mendicant where his art was concerned, he did not place his art above himself: the bread that he had not earned himself would have choked him. One day, when he brought some work that he had sat up all night to finish, he found Hecht at table.
"I've been wanting to look you up, but I lost your address.... Good Lord, my dear fellow, I didn't know you! You were epic: that's what you were, epic!" Christophe stared at him. He was surprised and a little ashamed. "You're not angry with me?" "Angry? What an idea!" So far from being angry, he had been delighted with the way in which Christophe had trounced Hecht: it had been a treat to him.
"If I am to be no musician in order to please you," said Christophe dryly, "I am sorry, but I'm not that." Hecht, still looking aside, went on, as indifferently as ever. "You have written music? What have you written? Lieder, I suppose?" "Lieder, two symphonies, symphonic poems, quartets, piano suites, theater music," said Christophe, boiling.
He was on his way home, empty, when, happening to pass the music-shop where he had been introduced to Daniel Hecht by Sylvain Kohn, he went in without remembering that he had already been there under not very pleasant circumstances. The first person he saw was Hecht. He was on the point of turning tail: but he was too late: Hecht had seen him.
Farnum was fidgeting, though he strove to conceal the fact. Jack looked quiet, but his heart was thumping. "Steward Dugan!" called the admiral, rather sharply, and the man stepped over quickly. "I sent Hecht after that new steward," declared the admiral. "Hecht hasn't come back. Find him on the jump and learn his reason for the delay."
With his amazing combination of indifference and kindliness Hecht made him wait a fortnight for a reply a fortnight during which Christophe tormented himself and practically refused to touch any of the food Sidonie brought him, and would only accept a little bread and milk, which she forced him to take, and then he grumbled and was angry with himself because he had not earned it: then, without a word, Hecht sent him the sum he asked: and not once during the months of Christophe's illness did Hecht make any inquiry after him.
Hecht, remarking his pallor and the hungry glances that involuntarily he cast at the dishes, felt sure that he had not eaten that day, and invited him to lunch. He meant kindly, but he made it so apparent that he had noticed Christophe's straits that his invitation looked like charity: Christophe would have died of hunger rather than accept. His stomach was aching with hunger.
It was an amazing act of folly, and he bought back his published compositions at a price five times greater than the sum they had brought him in, though it was by no means exorbitant: for it was scrupulously calculated on the basis of the actual profits which had accrued to Hecht. Christophe could not pay, and Hecht had counted on it.
Upon that consideration, without any restriction or reserve, you have assigned to me all your rights in your work." "Even the right to destroy it?" Hecht shrugged his shoulders, rang the bell, and said to a clerk. "Bring me M. Kraff's account."
I would advise you to live with that same Monsieur Hecht in all the confidence, familiarity, and connection, which prudence will allow. I mean it with regard to the King of Prussia himself, by whom I could wish you to be known and esteemed as much as possible. It may be of use to you some day or other.
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