the fifth string-第8节

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dearly；''　good…naturedly　answered　the

girl。



‘‘And　no　one　else？''　continued　the

seemingly　garrulous　old　man。



‘‘None　that　I　have　heard　him　speak

of。　No；　certainly　not；''　rather　impetuously

replied　Mildred。



‘‘How　old　is　he？''　continued　the　old　man。



‘‘Twenty…eight　next　month；　why　do　you

wish　to　know？''　she　quizzically　asked。



‘‘Simply　idle　curiosity；''　old　Sanders

carelessly　replied。　‘‘I　wonder　if　he　is

in　love　with　any　one　in　Tuscany？''



‘‘Of　course　not；　how　could　he　be？''

quickly　rejoined　the　girl。



‘‘And　why　not？''　added　old　Sanders。



‘‘Why？　Because；　becausehe　is　in

love　with　some　one　in　America。''



‘‘Ah；　with　you；　I　see；''　said　the　old

man；　as　if　it　were　the　greatest　discovery

of　his　life；　‘‘are　you　sure　he　has　not

some　beautiful　sweetheart　in　Tuscany

as　well　as　here？''



‘‘What　a　foolish　question；''　she

replied。　‘‘Men　like　Angelo　Diotti　do

not　fall　in　love　as　soldiers　fall　in　line。

Love　to　a　man　of　his　nobility　is　too

serious　to　be　treated　so　lightly。''



‘‘Very　true；　and　that's　what　has

excited　my　curiosity！''　whereupon　the　old

man　smoked　away　in　silence。



‘‘Excited　your　curiosity！''　said

Mildred。　‘‘What　do　you　mean？''



‘‘It　may　be　something；　it　may　be

nothing；　but　my　speculative　instinct　has

been　aroused　by　a　strange　peculiarity　in

his　playing。''



‘‘His　playing　is　wonderful！''　replied

Mildred　proudly。



‘‘Aye；　more　than　wonderful！　I

watched　him　intently；''　said　the　old

man；　‘‘I　noted　with　what　marvelous

facility　he　went　from　one　string　to　the

other。　But　however　rapid；　however　difficult

the　composition；　he　steadily　avoided

one　string；　in　fact；　that　string　remained

untouched　during　the　entire　hour　he

played　for　us。''



‘‘Perhaps　the　composition　did　not

call　for　its　use；''　suggested　Mildred；

unconscious　of　any　other　meaning　in　the

old　man's　observation；　save　praise　for

her　lover。



‘‘Perhaps　so；　but　the　oddity

impressed　me；　it　was　a　new　string　to　me。

I　have　never　seen　one　like　it　on　a　violin

before。''



‘‘That　can　scarcely　be；　for　I　do　not

remember　of　Signor　Diotti　telling　me

there　was　anything　unusual　about　his

violin。''



‘‘I　am　sure　it　has　a　fifth　string。''



‘‘And　I　am　equally　sure　the　string

can　be　of　no　importance　or　Angelo

would　have　told　me　of　it；''　Mildred

quickly　rejoined。



‘‘I　recall　a　strange　story　of

Paganini；''　continued　the　old　man；

apparently　not　noticing　her　interruption；　‘‘he

became　infatuated　with　a　lady　of　high

rank；　who　was　insensible　of　the　admiration

he　had　for　her　beauty。



‘‘He　composed　a　love　scene　for　two

strings；　the　‘E'　and　‘G；'　the　first　was

to　personate　the　lady；　the　second　himself。

It　commenced　with　a　species　of

dialogue；　intending　to　represent　her

indifference　and　his　passion；　now　sportive；

now　sad；　laughter　on　her　part　and

tears　from　him；　ending　in　an　apotheosis

of　loving　reconciliation。　It　affected　the

lady　to　that　degree　that　ever　after　she

loved　the　violinist。''



‘‘And　no　doubt　they　were　happy？''

Mildred　suggested　smilingly。



‘‘Yes；''　said　the　old　man；　with

assumed　sentiment；　‘‘even　when　his

profession　called　him　far　away；　for　she　had

made　him　promise　her　he　never　would

play　upon　the　two　strings　whose　music

had　won　her　heart；　so　those　strings　were

mute；　except　for　her。''



The　old　man　puffed　away　in　silence

for　a　moment；　then　with　logical　directness

continued：　‘‘Perhaps　the　string

that's　mute　upon　Diotti's　violin　is　mute

for　some　such　reason。''



‘‘Nonsense；''　said　the　girl；　half　impatiently。



‘‘The　string　is　black　and　glossy　as

the　tresses　that　fall　in　tangled　skeins　on

the　shoulders　of　the　dreamy　beauties　of

Tuscany。　It　may　be　an　idle　fancy；　but

if　that　string　is　not　a　woven　strand　from

some　woman's　crowning　glory；　then　I

have　no　discernment。''



‘‘You　are　jesting；　uncle；''　she

replied；　but　her　heart　was　heavy　already。



‘‘Ask　him　to　play　on　that　string；　I'll

wager　he'll　refuse；''　said　the　old　man；

contemptuously。



‘‘He　will　not　refuse　when　I　ask　him；

but　I　will　not　to…night；''　answered　the

unhappy　girl；　with　forced　determina…

tion。　Then；　taking　the　old　man's　hands；

she　said：　‘‘Good…night；　I　am　going　to

my　room；　please　make　my　excuses　to

Signor　Diotti　and　father；''　and　wearily

she　ascended　the　stairs。



Mr。　Wallace　and　the　violinist　soon

after　joined　old　Sanders；　fresh　cigars

were　lighted　and　regrets　most　earnestly

expressed　by　the　violinist　for　Mildred's

‘‘sick　headache。''



‘‘No　need　to　worry；　she　will　be　all

right　in　the　morning；''　said　Sanders；

and　he　and　the　violinist　buttoned　their

coats　tightly　about　them；　for　the　night

was　bitter　cold；　and　together　they　left

the　house。



In　her　bed…chamber　Mildred　stood

looking　at　the　portrait　of　her　lover。　She

studied　his　face　long　and　intently；　then

crossing　the　room　she　mechanically　took

a　volume　from　the　shelf；　and　as　she

opened　it　her　eyes　fell　on　these　lines：



‘‘How　art　thou　fallen　from　Heaven；

O　Lucifer；　son　of　the　Morning！''



***



Old　Sanders　builded　better　than　he　knew。







XI



When　Diotti　and　old　Sanders　left

the　house　they　walked　rapidly

down　Fifth　Avenue。　It　was　after　eleven；

and　the　streets　were　bare　of　pedestrians；

but　blinking…eyed　cabs　came　up　the　avenue；

looking　at　a　distance　like　a　trail

of　Megatheriums；　gliding　through　the

darkness。　The　piercing　wind　made　the

men　hasten　their　steps；　the　old　man　by

a　semi…rotary　motion　keeping　up　with

the　longer　strides　and　measured　tread　of

the　younger。



When　they　reached　Fourteenth　Street；

the　elder　said；　‘‘I　live　but　a　block　from

here；''　pointing　eastward；　‘‘what　do

you　say　to　a　hot　toddy？　It　will　warm

the　cockles　of　your　heart；　come　over　to

my　house　and　I'll　mix　you　the　best

drink　in　New　York。''



The　younger　thought　the　suggestion

a　good　one　and　they　turned　toward　the

house　of　old　Sanders。



It　was　a　neat；　red　brick；　two…story

house；　well　in　from　the　street；　off　the

line　of　the　more　pretentious　buildings　on

either　side。　As　the　old　man　opened　the

iron　gate；　the　police　officer　on　the　beat

passed；　he　peered　into　the　faces　of　the

men；　and　recognizing　Sanders；　said；

‘‘tough　night；　sir。''



‘‘Very；''　replied　the　addressed。



‘‘All　good　old　gentlemen　should　be　in

bed　at　this　hour；''　said　the　officer；　lifting

one　foot　after　the　other　in　an　effort

to　keep　warm；　and　in　so　doing　showing

little　terpsichorean　grace。



‘‘It's　only　the　shank　of　the　evening；

officer；''　rejoined　the　old　man；　as　he

fumbled　with　the　latch　key　and　finally

opened　the　door。　The　two　men　entered

and　the　officer　passed　on。



Every　man　has　a　fad。　One　will　tell

you　he　sees　nothing　in　billiards　or　pool

or　golf　or　tennis；　but　will　grow　enthusiastic

over　the　scientific　possibilities　of

mumble…peg；　you　agree　with　him；　only

you　substitute　‘‘skittles''　for　‘‘mumble…

peg。''



Old　Sanders'　fad　was　mixing　toddies

and　punches。



‘‘The　nectar　of　the　gods　pales　into

nothingness　when　compared　with　a　toddy

such　as　I　make；''　said　he。　‘‘Ambrosia

may　have　been　all　right　for　the

degenerates　of　the　old　Grecian　and

Roman　days；　but　an　American　gentleman

demands　a　toddya　hot　toddy。''　And

then　he　proceeded　with　circumspection

and　dignity　to　demonstrate　the　process

of　decocting　that　mysterious　beverage。



The　two　men　took　off　their　overcoats

and　went　into　the　sitting…room。　A　pile

of　logs　burned　brightly　in　the　fire…place。

The　old　man　threw　another　on　the　burning

heap；　filled　the　kettle　with　water　and

hung　it　over　the　fire。　Next　he　went　to

the　sideboard　and　brought　forth　the

various　ingredients　for　the　toddy。



‘‘How　do　you　like　America？''　said

the　elder；　with　commonplace　indifference；

as　he　crunched　a　lump　of　sugar　in

the　bottom　of　the　glass；　dissolving　the

particles　with　a　few　drops　of　water。



‘‘Very　much；　indeed；''　said　the

Tuscan；　with　the　air　of　a　man　who　had

answered　the　question　before。



‘‘Great　country　for　girls！''　said

Sanders；　pouring　a　liberal　quantity　of　Old

Tom　gin　in　the　glass　and　placing　it

where　it　gradually　would　get　warm。



‘‘And　for　men！''　responded　Diotti；

enthusiastically。



‘‘Men　don't　amount　to　much　here；

women　run　everything；''　retorted　the

elder；　while　he　repeated　the　process　of

preparing　the　sugar　and　gin　in　the　second

glass。　The　kettle　began　to　sing。



‘‘That's　music　for　you；''　chuckled　the

old　man；　raising　the　lid　to　see　if　the

water　had　boiled　sufficiently。　‘‘Do　you

know　I　think　a　dinner　horn　and　a　singing

kettle　beat　a　symphony　all　hollow

for　real　down…right　melody；''　and　he

lifted　the　kettle　from　the　fire…place。



Diotti　smiled。



With　mathematical　accuracy　the　old　man

filled　the　two　tumblers　with　boiling　water。



‘‘Try　that；''　handing　a　glass　of　the

toddy　to　Diotti；　‘‘you　will　find　it　all