But this does not last, and before long there comes, in the train of the first theme, an outburst of passion with mighty upheavings and fearful lulls that presage new eruptions.  Thus the ballade rises and falls on the sea of passion till a mad, reckless rush (presto con fuoco) brings it to a conclusion.  Schumann tells us a rather interesting fact in his notice of the “Deuxieme Ballade” (in F major), Op. 38.  He heard Chopin play it in Leipzig before its publication, and at that time the passionate middle parts did not exist, and the piece closed in F major, now it closes in A minor.  Schumann’s opinion of this ballade is, that as a work of art it stands below the first, yet is not less fantastic and geistreich.  If two such wholly dissimilar things can be compared and weighed in this fashion, Schumann is very likely right; but I rather think they cannot.  The second ballade possesses beauties in no way inferior to those of the first.  What can be finer than the simple strains of the opening section!  They sound as if they had been drawn from the people’s storehouse of song.  The entrance of the presto surprises, and seems out of keeping with what precedes; but what we hear after the return of the tempo primo—­the development of those simple strains, or rather the cogitations on them—­ justifies the presence of the presto.  The second appearance of the latter leads to an urging, restless coda in A minor, which closes in the same key and pianissimo with a few bars of the simple, serene, now veiled, first strain.  The “Troisieme Ballade” (in A flat major), Op. 47, does not equal its sisters in emotional intensity, at any rate, not in emotional tumultuousness.  On this occasion the composer shows himself in a fundamentally caressing mood.  But the fine gradations, the iridescence of feeling, mocks at verbal definition.  Insinuation and persuasion cannot be more irresistible, grace and affection more seductive.  Over everything in melody, harmony, and rhythm, there is suffused a most exquisite elegance.  A quiver of excitement runs through the whole piece.  The syncopations, reversions of accent, silences on accented parts of the bar (sighs and suspended respiration, felicitously expressed), which occur very frequently in this ballade, give much charm and piquancy to it.  As an example, I may mention the bewitching subject in F major of the second section.  The appearances of this subject in different keys and in a new guise are also very effective.  Indeed, one cannot but be struck with wonder at the ease, refinement, and success with which Chopin handles here the form, while in almost every work in the larger forms we find him floundering lamentably.  It would be foolish and presumptuous to pronounce this or that one of the ballades the finest; but one may safely say that the fourth (in F minor), Op. 52, is fully worthy of her sisters.  The emotional key-note of the piece is longing sadness, and this key-note is well preserved throughout; there are no