The President stood up, made the sign of the T and, switching on the synthetic music, let loose the soft indefatigable beating of drums and a choir of instruments-near-wind and super-string-that plangently repeated and repeated the brief and unescapably haunting melody of the first Solidarity Hymn. Again, again-and it was not the ear that heard the pulsing rhythm, it was the midriff; the wail and clang of those recurring harmonies haunted, not the mind, but the yearning bowels of compassion.