On the 26th of December 1931, the pianist Catherine de Sélys presented herself at the Naples Academy of Music, when a flow of lava - due to a sudden eruption of Vesuvius - engulfed the hall entirely. Miraculously saved by being up on the stage, Catherine was the sole survivor.
One year later, returning to the scene of the disaster to take part in a charity concert given for the families of the victims, Catherine insisted that a second recital be given, exclusively reserved for the victims themselves who, surprised by the lava, had not been able to see the end of the concert.
Catherine was so convincing that the organisers undertook to cast in lava each of the spectators as they were at the very instant of the drama.
When Catherine found, faithfully reconstructed, the hall she had fled in the catastrophe a year previously, she was overcome with emotion as she viewed those who had been her audience. It was the first time she was able to observe so intensely the attitude of her listeners in the beautiful ambience of one of her concerts. Some of them seemed to have been completely captivated by her interpretation; but their slightly haughty expression, of a pretentious kind, soon tired Catherine. On the other hand, those whom her music-making had not enraptured and who, to kill time, had been looking around them, were able to see the catastrophe arriving; and everything - in their twisted mouths, their gesticulating arms, their eyes popping out of their heads - was in accord with the attitude she had always hoped to provoke in a listener.
From that day on, Catherine threw herself into interminable concerts where, thanks to the indifference of her playing, she achieved such a feeling of boredom in her audience that the slightest incident would release their spirit from unsuspected passions.