the fifth string-第3节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



last　scene　at　the　Tower　of　Babel。

Having　accomplished　this　to　its　evident

satisfaction；　the　audience　proceeded；　like

the　closing　phrase　of　the

‘‘Goetterdaemmerung''　Dead　March；　to　become

exceedingly　quietthen　expectant。



This　expectancy　lasted　fully　three

minutes。　Then　there　were　some　impatient

handclappings。　A　few　persons

whispered：　‘‘Why　is　he　late？''　‘‘Why

doesn't　he　come？''　‘‘I　wonder　where

Diotti　is；''　and　then　came　unmistakable

signs　of　impatience。　At　its　height

Perkins　appeared；　hesitatingly。　Nervous

and　jerky　he　walked　to　the　center　of

the　stage；　and　raised　his　hand　begging

silence。　The　audience　was　stilled。



‘‘Ladies　and　gentlemen；''　he　falteringly

said；　‘‘Signor　Diotti　left　his　hotel

at　seven　o'clock　and　was　driven　to　the

Academy。　The　call…boy　rapped　at　his

dressing…room；　and　not　receiving　a　reply；

opened　the　door　to　find　the　room

empty。　We　have　despatched　searchers

in　every　direction　and　have　sent　out　a

police　alarm。　We　fear　some　accident

has　befallen　the　Signor。　We　ask　your

indulgence　for　the　keen　disappointment；

and　beg　to　say　that　your　money　will　be

refunded　at　the　box…office。''



Diotti　had　disappeared　as　completely

as　though　the　earth　had　swallowed　him。







V



My　Dearest　Sister：　　You

doubtless　were　exceedingly　mystified

and　troubled　over　the　report　that

was　flashed　to　Europe　regarding　my

sudden　disappearance　on　the　eve　of　my

second　concert　in　New　York。



Fearing；　sweet　Francesca；　that　you

might　mourn　me　as　dead；　I　sent　the

cablegram　you　received　some　weeks

since；　telling　you　to　be　of　good　heart

and　await　my　letter。　To　make　my　action

thoroughly　understood　I　must　give

you　a　record　of　what　happened　to　me

from　the　first　day　I　arrived　in

America。　I　found　a　great　interest　mani…

fested　in　my　premiere；　and　socially

everything　was　done　to　make　me　happy。



Mrs。　James　Llewellyn；　whom；　you

no　doubt　remember；　we　met　in　Florence

the　winter　of　18；　immediately　after　I

reached　New　York　arranged　a　reception

for　me；　which　was　elegant　in　the

extreme。　But　from　that　night　dates

my　misery。



You　ask　her　name？Mildred　Wallace。

Tell　me　what　she　is　like；　I　hear

you　say。　Of　graceful　height；　willowy

and　exquisitely　molded；　not　over　twenty…

four；　with　the　face　of　a　Madonna；

wondrous　eyes　of　darkest　blue；　hair

indescribable　in　its　maze　of　tawny　color

in　a　word；　the　perfection　of　womanhood。

In　half　an　hour　I　was　her　abject

slave；　and　proud　in　my　serfdom。

When　I　returned　to　the　hotel　that　evening

I　could　not　sleep。　Her　image　ever

was　before　me；　elusive　and　shadowy。

And　yet　we　seemed　to　grow　farther　and

farther　apartshe　nearer　heaven；　I

nearer　earth。



The　next　evening　I　gave　my　first　and

what　I　fear　may　prove　my　last　concert

in　America。　The　vision　of　my　dreams

was　there；　radiant　in　rarest　beauty。

Singularly　enough；　she　was　in　the　direct

line　of　my　vision　while　I　played。

I　saw　only　her；　played　but　for　her；　and

cast　my　soul　at　her　feet。　She　sat　indifferent

and　silent。　‘‘Cold？''　you　say。　No！

No！　Francesca；　not　cold；　superior　to

my　poor　efforts。　I　realized　my

limitations。　I　questioned　my　genius。　When

I　returned　to　bow　my　acknowledgments

for　the　most　generous　applause　I　have

ever　received；　there　was　no　sign　on　her

part　that　I　had　interested　her；　either

through　my　talent　or　by　appeal　to　her

curiosity。　I　hoped　against　hope　that

some　word　might　come　from　her；　but　I

was　doomed　to　disappointment。　The

critics　were　fulsome　in　their　praise　and

the　public　was　lavish　with　its　plaudits；

but　I　was　abjectly　miserable。　Another

sleepless　night　and　I　was　determined　to

see　her。　She　received　me　most

graciously；　although　I　fear　she　thought　my

visit　one　of　vanitywounded　vanity

and　me　petulant　because　of　her　lack　of

appreciation。



Oh；　sister　mine；　I　knew　better。　I

knew　my　heart　craved　one　word；　however

matter…of…fact；　that　would　rekindle

the　hope　that　was　dying　within　me。



Hesitatingly；　and　like　a　clumsy　yokel；

I　blurted：　‘‘I　have　been　wondering

whether　you　cared　for　the　performance

I　gave？''



‘‘It　certainly　ought　to　make　little

difference　to　you；''　she　replied；　‘‘the

public　was　enthusiastic　enough　in　its

endorsement。''



‘‘But　I　want　your　opinion；''　I　pleaded。



‘‘My　opinion　would　not　at　all　affect

the　almost　unanimous　verdict；　‘‘she

replied　calmly。



‘‘And；''　I　urged　desperately；　‘‘you

were　not　affected　in　the　least？''



Very　coldly　she　answered；　‘‘Not　in

the　least；''　and　then　fearlessly；　like　a

princess　in　the　Palace　of　Truth：　‘‘If

ever　a　man　comes　who　can　awaken　my

heart；　frankly　and　honestly　I　will

confess　it。''



‘‘Perhaps　such　a　one　lives；''　I　said；



but　has　yet　to　reach　the　height　to　win

youyour''



‘‘Speak　it；''　she　said；　‘‘to　win　my

love！''



‘‘Yes；''　I　cried；　startled　at　her

candor；　‘‘to　win　your　love。''　Hope　slowly

rekindled　within　my　breast；　and　then

with　half…closed　eyes；　and　wooingly；　she

said：



‘‘No　drooping　Clytie　could　be　more

constant　than　I　to　him　who　strikes　the

chord　that　is　responsive　in　my　soul。''



Her　emotion　must　have　surprised　her；

but　immediately　she　regained　her　placidity

and　reverted　no　more　to　the　subject。



I　went　out　into　the　gathering　gloom。

Her　words　haunted　me。　A　strange

feeling　came　over　me。　A　voice　within

me　cried：　‘‘Do　not　play　to…night。

Study！　study！　Perhaps　in　the　full　fruition

of　your　genius　your　music；　like　the

warm　western　wind　to　the　harp；　may

bring　life　to　her　soul。''



I　fled；　and　I　am　here。　I　am　delving

deeper　and　deeper　into　the　mysteries　of

my　art；　and　I　pray　God　each　hour　that

He　may　place　within　my　grasp　the

wondrous　music　His　blessed　angels

sing；　for　the　soul　of　her　I　love　is　at。

tuned　to　the　harmonies　of　heaven。





Your　affectionate　brother；

ANGELO。

ISLAND　OF　BAHAMA；　January　2。







VI



When　Diotti　left　New　York　so

precipitately　he　took　passage

on　a　coast　line　steamer　sailing　for　the

Bahama　Islands。　Once　there；　he　leased

a　small　cay；　one　of　a　group　off　the　main

land；　and　lived　alone　and　unattended；

save　for　the　weekly　visits　of　an　old

fisherman　and　his　son；　who　brought

supplies　of　provisions　from　the　town

miles　away。　His　dwelling…place；

surrounded　with　palmetto　trees；　was　little

more　than　a　rough　shelter。　Diotti　arose

at　daylight；　and　after　a　simple　repast；

betook　himself　to　practise。　Hour　after

hour　he　would　let　his　muse　run　riot

with　his　fingers。　Lovingly　he　wooed

the　strings　with　plaintive　song；　then

conquering　and　triumphant　would　be

his　theme。　But　neither　satisfied　him。

The　vague　dream　of　a　melody　more

beautiful　than　ever　man　had　heard

dwelt　hauntingly　on　the　borders　of　his

imagination；　but　was　no　nearer　realization

than　when　he　began。　As　the　day's

work　closed；　he　wearily　placed　the

violin　within　its　case；　murmuring；

‘‘Not　yet；　not　yet；　I　have　not　found　it。''



Days　passed；　weeks　crept　slowly

on；　still　he　worked；　but　always

with　the　same　result。　One　day；

feverish　and　excited；　he　played　on

in　monotone　almost　listless。　His　tired；

over…wrought　brain　denied　a　further

thought。　His　arm　and　fingers　refused

response　to　his　will。　With　an　uncontrollable

outburst　of　grief　and　anger　he

dashed　the　violin　to　the　floor；　where　it

lay　a　hopeless　wreck。　Extending　his

arms　he　cried；　in　the　agony　of　despair：

‘‘It　is　of　no　use！　If　the　God　of　heaven

will　not　aid　me；　I　ask　the　prince　of

darkness　to　come。''



A　tall；　rather　spare；　but　well…made

and　handsome　man　appeared　at　the

door　of　the　hut。　His　manner　was　that　of

one　evidently　conversant　with　the　usages

of　good　society。



‘‘I　beg　pardon；''　said　the　musician；

surprised　and　visibly　nettled　at　the

intrusion；　and　then　with　forced　politeness

he　asked：　‘‘To　whom　am　I　indebted

for　this　unexpected　visit？''



‘‘Allow　me；''　said　the　stranger　taking

a　card　from　his　case　and　handing

it　to　the　musician；　who　read：　‘‘Satan；''

and；　in　the　lower　left…hand　corner

‘‘Prince　of　Darkness。''



‘‘I　am　the　Prince；''　said　the　stranger；

bowing　low。



There　was　no　hint　of　the　pavement…

made　ruler　in　the　information　he　gave；

but　rather　of　the　desire　of　one　gentleman

to　set　another　right　at　the　beginning。

The　musician　assumed　a　position

of　open…mouthed　wonder；　gazing

steadily　at　the　visitor。



‘‘Satan？''　he　whispered　hoarsely。



‘‘You　need　help　and　advice；''　said

the　visitor；　his　voice　sounding　like　that

of　a　disciple　of　the　healing　art；　and

implying　that　he　had　thoroughly　diagnosed

the　case。



‘‘No；　no；''　cried　the　shuddering

violinist；　‘‘go　away。　I　do　not　need　you。''



‘‘I　regret　I　can　not　accept　that

statement　as　gospel　truth；''　said　Satan；

sarcastically；　‘‘for　if　ever　a　man　needed

help；　you　are　that　man。''



‘‘But　not　from　you；''　replied　Diotti。



‘‘That　statement　is　discredited　also

by　your　outburst　of　a　fe