Then they placed a large basket before her in which were hundreds of bits of folded paper. She was to take out three, open them, read them aloud and give a verbal answer to each. The first question was something about the relative minor of a certain major key and its signature. That was easy enough and she answered at once without hesitation. The next question nearly took her breath away. It was some deep and perplexing thing about the construction of a chord. Many a music teacher would be puzzled to answer it. She thought some wicked person had put it in the basket just to annoy her. Nobody could answer such a tremendously hard question. She paused perplexed. It would not do to fail, and calling up her sturdy will she compelled herself to think it out. In a moment a bright gleam passed over her face and she began to answer the question slowly. Feeling more confident, she went on explaining the matter, and suddenly went wrong. She caught herself at once and in a flash corrected it and gave the right answer.
This was against the rules. No pupil was allowed to correct himself. He must have it right the first time. She was greatly frightened, and thought she had made a failure. She was so earnest and anxious over it, and moreover she was a girl, the first girl on the violin ever admitted to the Conservatory, and with a smile and a word of encouragement the jury forgave her and accepted her answer. The third question was quickly answered and the great trial was successfully finished. This trial of skill, or examination as we should call it, lasted several days. One day she was examined in harmony. The singing came another day, the violin concerto another, and the playing at sight in a string quartette on still another. The poor girl was quite worn out and thankful that the summer vacation came soon after. At our Conservatories and music schools the pupils take the vacation as a time of rest and enjoyment. They say it is too hot to work. It is quite as warm in Paris, and Camilla was as weary as ever they could be at such a time. Still she rose with the sun, practiced all the forenoon with her father, went to Massart's house three times a week, and with the exception of the hours spent at the Conservatory, her time passed exactly as if there was no vacation at all. Work, work, work, all the time. Just enough exercise to keep her in good health. Only a little play, now and then. Hours and hours of practice day after day. Such was her life. A great and splendid reward was in view. By and by she would win every thing. When her day of success came she could rest and enjoy herself. Could she? Did she ever rest? We shall see.