But it is all a play of the waves.  And we are left once more to the impersonal scene where yet the fragrance of legend hovers over the dying harmonies.

III.—­Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea. Tumultuous is the humor of the beginning; early sounds the stroke of wave of the first hour of the sea.  The muted trumpet blows a strain (to trembling strings) that takes us back to the first (quoted) tune of the symphony in the wistful mood of dawn.  For a symphony it proves to be in the unity of themes and thought.  Now unmuted and unrestrained in conflict of crashing chords, the trumpet blows again the motto of the roving sea.  In various figures is the pelagic motion, in continuous coursing strings, in the sweeping phrase of the woodwind, or in the original wave-motion of the horns, now unmuted.

The main burden is a plaint

[Music:  (Woodwind in lower octaves and touches of horns) (Animato) poco rit. (Strings in higher and lower octaves)]

(in the wood) against the insistent surge (of strings), on a haunting motive as of farewell or eventide, with much stress of pathos.  It is sung in sustained duet against a constant churning figure of the sea, and it is varied by a dulcet strain that grows out of the wave-motive.

Indeed, the whole movement is complementary of the first, the obverse as it were.  The themes are of the same text; the hue and mood have changed from the spring of dawn to the sadness of dusk.  The symbol of noontide peace reappears with minor tinge, at the hush of eve.  The climactic motive of the sea acclaiming the rising sun is there, but reversed.

The sea too has the same tempestuous motion (indeed, the plaintive song is mainly of the wind), unrestrained by the sadder mood.  At the passionate climax, where the higher figure sinks toward the rising lower, it is as if the Wind kissed the Sea.

The concluding scene begins as in the first movement, save with greater extension of expressive melody.  And the poignant note has a long song against a continuous rippling (of harps).

More elemental figures crowd the scene; the first melody (of trumpet) has a full verse, and the dulcet phrase (of wave-motive).

Toward the end the plaintive song has an ever-growing chorus of acclaiming voices.  In the fever of united coursing motion the phrase loses the touch of sadness until in eager, spirited pace, as of galloping steeds, it ends with a shout of victory.

DUKAS.  “THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE"

Chief among the companions of Claude Debussy in his adventures is Paul Dukas.[A] Though he lags somewhat in bold flights of harmonies, he shows a clearer vein of melody and rhythm, and he has an advantage in a greater freedom from the rut of repeated device.

[Footnote A:  Born in 1865.]

It is somehow in the smaller forms that the French composer finds the trenchant utterance of his fancy.  A Scherzo, after the ballad of Goethe, “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” tells the famous story of the boy who in his master’s absence compels the spirit in the broom to fetch the water; but he cannot say the magic word to stop the flood, although he cleaves the demon-broom in two.