"You are one of the profane," said Gwendolen. "You are blind to the majesty of genius. Herr Klesmer smites me with awe; I feel crushed in his presence; my courage all oozes from me."
"Ah, you understand all about his music."
"No, indeed," said Gwendolen, with a light laugh; "it is he who understands all about mine and thinks it pitiable." Klesmer's verdict on her singing had been an easier joke to her since he had been struck by her _plastik_.
"It is not addressed to the ears of the future, I suppose. I'm glad of that: it suits mine."

"You are blind to the majesty of genius," said Gwendolen. "Herr Klesmer smites me with awe; I feel crushed in his presence; my courage oozes from me."
"Ah, you understand about his music."
"No, indeed," she said with a light laugh; "it is he who understands mine and thinks it pitiable. 