men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第7节
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watched the rain upon the window glare In white； bright drops。 Through
the black glass a flare Of lightning squirmed about her needles。 〃Oh！〃
She cried。 〃What can be keeping Theodore so！〃
A roll of thunder set the casements clapping。 Frau Altgelt flung her
work aside and ran； Pulled open the house door； with kerchief flapping
She stood and gazed along the street。 A man Flung back the garden…gate
and nearly ran Her down as she stood in the door。 〃Why； Dear； What in
the name of patience brings you here？
Quick； Lotta； shut the door； my violin I fear is wetted。 Now； Dear；
bring a light。 This clasp is very much too worn and thin。 I'll take the other
fiddle out to…night If it still rains。 Tut！ Tut！ my child； you're quite
Clumsy。 Here； help me； hold the case while I Give me the candle。
No； the inside's dry。
Thank God for that！ Well； Lotta； how are you？ A bad storm； but the
house still stands； I see。 Is my pipe filled； my Dear？ I'll have a few Puffs
and a snooze before I eat my tea。 What do you say？ That you were
feared for me？ Nonsense； my child。 Yes； kiss me； now don't talk。 I need
a rest； the theatre's a long walk。〃
Her needles still； her hands upon her lap Patiently laid； Charlotta
Altgelt sat And watched the rain…run window。 In his nap Her husband
stirred and muttered。 Seeing that； Charlotta rose and softly； pit…a…pat；
Climbed up the stairs； and in her little room Found sighing comfort with a
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moon in bloom。
But even rainy windows； silver…lit By a new…burst； storm…whetted
moon； may give But poor content to loneliness； and it Was hard for young
Charlotta so to strive And down her eagerness and learn to live In placid
quiet。 While her husband slept； Charlotta in her upper chamber wept。
Herr Concert…Meister Altgelt was a man Gentle and unambitious； that
alone Had kept him back。 He played as few men can； Drawing out of his
instrument a tone So shimmering…sweet and palpitant； it shone Like a
bright thread of sound hung in the air； Afloat and swinging upward； slim
and fair。
Above all things； above Charlotta his wife； Herr Altgelt loved his
violin； a fine Cremona pattern； Stradivari's life Was flowering out of early
discipline When this was fashioned。 Of soft…cutting pine The belly was。
The back of broadly curled Maple； the head made thick and sharply
whirled。
The slanting； youthful sound…holes through The belly of fine；
vigorous pine Mellowed each note and blew It out again with a
woody flavour Tanged and fragrant as fir…trees are When breezes
in their needles jar。
The varnish was an orange…brown Lustered like glass that's
long laid down Under a crumbling villa stone。 Purfled stoutly；
with mitres which point Straight up the corners。 Each curve and
joint Clear； and bold； and thin。 Such was Herr Theodore's violin。
Seven o'clock； the Concert…Meister gone With his best violin； the rain
being stopped； Frau Lotta in the kitchen sat alone Watching the embers
which the fire dropped。 The china shone upon the dresser； topped By
polished copper vessels which her skill Kept brightly burnished。 It was
very still。
An air from ‘Orfeo' hummed in her head。 Herr Altgelt had been
practising before The night's performance。 Charlotta had plead With him
to stay with her。 Even at the door She'd begged him not to go。 〃I do
implore You for this evening； Theodore；〃 she had said。 〃Leave them to…
night； and stay with me instead。〃
〃A silly poppet！〃 Theodore pinched her ear。 〃You'd like to have our
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good Elector turn Me out I think。〃 〃But； Theodore； something queer Ails
me。 Oh； do but notice how they burn； My cheeks！ The thunder worried
me。 You're stern； And cold； and only love your work； I know。 But
Theodore； for this evening； do not go。〃
But he had gone； hurriedly at the end； For she had kept him talking。
Now she sat Alone again； always alone； the trend Of all her thinking
brought her back to that She wished to banish。 What would life be？
What？ For she was young； and loved； while he was moved Only by music。
Each day that was proved。
Each day he rose and practised。 While he played； She stopped her
work and listened； and her heart Swelled painfully beneath her bodice。
Swayed And longing； she would hide from him her smart。 〃Well； Lottchen；
will that do？〃 Then what a start She gave； and she would run to him and
cry； And he would gently chide her； 〃Fie； Dear； fie。
I'm glad I played it well。 But such a taking！ You'll hear the thing
enough before I've done。〃 And she would draw away from him； still
shaking。 Had he but guessed she was another one； Another violin。 Her
strings were aching； Stretched to the touch of his bow hand； again He
played and she almost broke at the strain。
Where was the use of thinking of it now； Sitting alone and listening to
the clock！ She'd best make haste and knit another row。 Three hours at least
must pass before his knock Would startle her。 It always was a shock。 She
listened listened for so long before； That when it came her hearing
almost tore。
She caught herself just starting in to listen。 What nerves she had：
rattling like brittle sticks！ She wandered to the window； for the glisten Of a
bright moon was tempting。 Snuffed the wicks Of her two candles。 Still
she could not fix To anything。 The moon in a broad swath Beckoned her
out and down the garden…path。
Against the house； her hollyhocks stood high And black； their shadows
doubling them。 The night Was white and still with moonlight； and a sigh
Of blowing leaves was there； and the dim flight Of insects； and the smell
of aconite； And stocks； and Marvel of Peru。 She flitted Along the path；
where blocks of shadow pitted
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The even flags。 She let herself go dreaming Of Theodore her
husband； and the tune From ‘Orfeo' swam through her mind； but seeming
Changed shriller。 Of a sudden； the clear moon Showed her a passer…by；
inopportune Indeed； but here he was； whistling and striding。 Lotta
squeezed in between the currants； hiding。
〃The best laid plans of mice and men；〃 alas！ The stranger came indeed；
but did not pass。 Instead； he leant upon the garden…gate； Folding his arms
and whistling。 Lotta's state； Crouched in the prickly currants； on wet
grass； Was far from pleasant。 Still the stranger stayed； And Lotta in her
currants watched； dismayed。
He seemed a proper fellow standing there In the bright moonshine。
His cocked hat was laced With silver； and he wore his own brown hair
Tied； but unpowdered。 His whole bearing graced A fine cloth coat； and
ruffled shirt； and chased Sword…hilt。 Charlotta looked； but her position
Was hardly easy。 When would his volition
Suggest his walking on？ And then that tune！ A half…a…dozen bars
from ‘Orfeo' Gone over and over； and murdered。 What Fortune Had
brought him there to stare about him so？ 〃Ach； Gott im Himmel！ Why
will he not go！〃 Thought Lotta； but the young man whistled on； And
seemed in no great hurry to be gone。
Charlotta； crouched among the currant bushes； Watched the moon
slowly dip from twig to twig。 If Theodore should chance to
