the fifth string(第五根线)-第8节
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element among the employees would not openly venture so far； but rather
thought if his satanic majesty and old Sanders ran a race； the former would
come in a bad second； if he were not distanced altogether。
The old man always reached the office at nine。 Mr。 Wallace usually
arrived a half hour later； seldom earlier； which was so well understood by
Sanders that he was greatly surprised when he walked into the president's
office； the morning after that gentleman had attended Diotti's concert； to
find the head of the firm already there and apparently waiting for him。
‘‘Sanders；'' said the banker； ‘‘I want your advice on a matter of great
importance and concern to me。''
Sanders came across the room and stood beside the desk。
‘‘Briefly as possible； I am much exercised about my daughter。''
The old man moved up a chair and buried himself in it。 Pressing his
elbows tightly against his sides； he drew his neck in； and with the tips of
his right hand fingers consorted and coquetted with their like on the
opposite hand； then he simply asked； ‘‘Who is the man？''
‘‘He is the violinist who has created such a sensation here； Angelo
Diotti。''
‘‘Yes； I've seen the name in print；'' returned the old man。
‘‘He has bewitched Mildred。 I never have seen her show the least
interest in a man before。 She never has appeared to me as an
impressionable girl or one that could easily be won。''
‘‘That is very true；'' ejaculated Sanders； ‘‘she always seemed tractable
and open to reason in all questions of love and courting。 I can recall
several instances where I have set her right by my estimation of men； and
invariably she has accepted my views。''
‘‘And mine until now；'' said the father； and then he recounted his
experience of the night before。 ‘‘I had hoped she would not fall in love；
but be a prop and comfort to me now that I am alone。 I am dismayed at the
prospect before me。''
Then the old man mused： ‘‘In the chrysalis state of girlhood； a parent
arranges all the details of his daughter's future； when and whom she shall
marry。 ‘I shall not allow her to fall in love until she is twenty…three；' says
the fond parent。 ‘I shall not allow her to marry until she is twenty…six；'
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says the fond parent。 ‘The man she marries will be the one I approve of；
and then she will live happy ever after；' concludes the fond parent。''
Deluded parent！ false prophet！ The anarchist； Love； steps in and
disdains all laws； rules and regulations。 When finally the father confronts
the defying daughter； she calmly says； ‘‘Well； what are you going to do
about it？'' And then tears； forgiveness； complete capitulation； and；
sometimes； she and her husband live happily ever afterwards。
‘‘We must find some means to end this attachment。 A union between a
musician and my daughter would be most mortifying to me。 Some plan
must be devised to separate them； but she must not know of it； for she is
impatient of restraint and will not brook opposition。''
‘‘Are you confident she really loves this violinist？''
‘‘She confessed as much to me；'' said the perturbed banker。
Old Sanders tapped with both hands on his shining cranium and asked；
‘‘Are you confident he loves her？''
‘‘No。 Even if he does not； he no doubt makes the pretense； and she
believes him。 A man who fiddles for money is not likely to ignore an
opportunity to angle for the same commodity；'' and the banker； with a look
of scorn on his face； threw himself back into the chair。
‘‘Does she know that you do not approve of this man？''
‘‘I told her that I desired the musician's visits to cease。''
‘‘And her answer？''
‘‘She said she would obey me if I could name one reasonable
objection to the man； and then； with an air of absolute confidence in the
impossibility of such a contingency； added； ‘But you can not。' ''
‘‘Yes； but you must；'' said Sanders。 ‘‘Mildred is strangely constituted。
If she loves this man； her love can be more deadly to the choice of her
heart than her hate to one she abhors。 The impatience of restraint you
speak of and her very inability to brook opposition can be turned to good
account now。'' And old Sanders again tapped in the rhythm of a dirge on
his parchment… bound cranium。
‘‘Your plan？'' eagerly asked the father； whose confidence in his
secretary was absolute。
‘‘I would like to study them together。 Your position will be stronger
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with Mildred if you show no open opposition to the man or his aspirations；
bring us together at your house some evening； and if I can not enter a
wedge of discontent； then they are not as others。''
***
Mildred was delighted when her father told her on his return in the
evening that he was anxious to meet Signor Diotti； and suggested a dinner
party within a few days。 He said he would invite Mr。 Sanders； as that
gentleman； no doubt； would consider it a great privilege to meet the
famous musician。 Mildred immediately sent an invitation to Diotti； adding
a request that he bring his violin and play for Uncle Sanders； as the latter
had found it impossible to attend his concerts during the season； yet was
fond of music； especially violin music。
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X
The little dinner party passed off pleasantly； and as old Sanders lighted
his cigar he confided to Diotti； with a braggart's assurance； that when he
was a youngster he was the best fiddler for twenty miles around。 ‘‘I tell
you there is nothing like a fiddler to catch a petticoat；'' he said； with a
sharp nudge of his elbow into Diotti's ribs。 ‘‘When I played the Devil's
Dream there wasn't a girl in the country could keep from dancing； and
‘Rosalie； the Prairie Flower；' brought them on their knees to me every
time；'' then after a pause； ‘‘I don't believe people fiddle as well nowadays
as they did in the good old times；'' and he actually sighed in remembrance。
Mildred smiled and whispered to Diotti。 He took his violin from the
case and began playing。 It seemed to her as if from above showers of
silvery merriment were falling to earth。 The old man watched intently； and
as the player changed from joy to pity； from love back to happiness；
Sanders never withdrew his gaze。 His bead…like eyes followed the artist；
he saw each individual finger rise and fall； and the bow bound over the
finger…board； always avoiding； never coming in contact with the middle
string。 Suddenly the old man beat a tattoo on his cranium and closed his
eyes； apparently deep in thought。
As Diotti ceased playing； Sanders applauded vociferously； and moving
toward the violinist； said： ‘‘Magnificent！ I never have heard better playing！
What is the make of your violin？''
Diotti； startled at this question； hurriedly put the instrument in its case；
‘‘Oh； it is a famous make；'' he drawled。
‘‘Will you let me examine it？'' said the elder； placing his hand on the
case。
‘‘I never allow any one to touch my violin；'' replied Diotti； closing the
cover quickly。
‘‘Why； is there a magic charm about it； that you fear other hands may
discover？'' queried the old man。
‘‘I prefer that no one handle it；'' said the virtuoso commandingly。
‘‘Very well；'' sighed the old man resignedly； ‘‘there are violins and
violins； and no doubt yours comes within that category；'' this half
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sneeringly。
‘‘Uncle；'' interposed Mildred tactfully； ‘‘you must n
