The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1870-06-10

very beautiful. A tall JunO-1ike fig
ure, features of great regularity, com
plexion faultlessly clear, wealth o
dark hair that fell in luxuriant> tresse:
over her shoulders, and large expressive
eyes, formed q magnificent whole. Sht
carried her head high, and slightly
thrown back, a sure indication of pride
which, moreover, was evinced by every
movement of the girl, and every eX.
preston of her beautiful face, and
Strauss only, in his infatuation, failed
to see.
She was only seventeen years old, an
age when most girls retain something
of the ways and manners of childhood
Not SO, however, with this girl. There
was nothing about her that reminded
one of the child. She was full-blown
oman, and her whole bearing showed
that she was not only conscious tina;
she was beautiful. but that she was q
countess.
Poor Strauss! He saw only heI
beauty-to him she. seemed an angel
descended from a brighter world. He
read love in her graceful smile, which
was intended for the master and not
the man, who, as burgher, she never
dreamed could raise his eyes to her.
Strauss bowed respectfully, and per-
haps somewhat awkwardly, in re.
spOnse to the young girls salutatiOn
the lady companion seated herself in an
armchair, soon became absorbed in a
book, and the lesson began.
The artist struggled hard to conceal
his agitation but, in spite of his best
endeavors, his hand trembled, and his
voice was husky and constrained.
The unwonted mood of the teacher
seemed to have attracted the attention
of the pupil; for, from time to time,
she glanced at the burning face of the
young man, whose eyes seemed to
meet hers with peculiar expression.
At this moment a servant entered,
and whispered few words to the COM
paniOn, whereupOn she rose, and with
the words "By your leave, Sophie, "
left the room.
Strauss was now alone with the coun-
tess.
"Heaven Is propitiOus," said he to
himself, overjOyed." Now or never!'
He grasped her hand, pressed it to his
burning lips, and fell on one knee be-
fore her.
"Countess Sophie" he whispered,
fixing his eyes on the face of the as
tonished girl, edo not be angry with
me for falling thus at your feet. Do not
drive me from you, for Ilove yOu-lOve
you with my whole, my entire being.
Oh, speak one word, give me some sign
that you do not disdain the love l could
conceal from you no longer"
The countess, surprised by this sud-
den Outburst, did not seem at the mo-
ment to grasp its import; but, when
she did, she rose proudly, withdrew her
hand, and said, in naughty, disdainful
tone, her eyes flashed with indignation:
"Sir, you forget where you are. Rise
you are not in your place"
"Oh, let me remain here at your
feet, Sophie! stammered Strauss, who
misconstrued the agitation of the coun-
tess. "Let ME hear the word from
your lips that shall make my earthly
happiness completew
"What impudence!" exclaimed the
countess. "Rise sir! Your place is
before the door. How dare you raise
your eyes to me? I-lOve-yOu-
I! You cannot be i'm our right mind
sir, or you would not forget that 1 am
Countess Sophie c., and that you
area musicianm
With these scornful words, the proud
girl left the room.
Half bewildered, the unfortunate
Strauss rose to his feet. His face was
deathly pale, and his cOlorless lips
whispered only:
"A musician, she said-a musician"
Then, like one intoxicated, he seized
his hat and hurried out of the house,
without noticing the countess compan-
ion, who met him, and asked why the
lesson had ended SO soon, or replying
to the salutatiOn of the giant Swiss who
guarded the door.
How he got home, Strauss never
knew; he saw nothing and heard no.
thing but the scornful words of the
countess. He was a prey to deep, burn
ing grief and shame; he had been
wounded in what is mans most vul-
nerable point; and, after throwing off
his hat, coat, neckclOth, and every
thing that confined his chest, he strobe
up and down his apartment in state
that fell little short of frenzy.
"Oh, they have no heart" he cried,
"these high-born women! Where
others have heart, they carry an old,
worm-eaten parchment, a patent of no.
bility, that, they think, makes them
better than other people. What care
they for love, fidelity of soul? To them
the name, a coat-of.arms, a long line
of ancestors, is everything. A musi-
clan am Ia musician! And so am ;
but, my beauteOus countess, the musl-
clan will live in the memory and affec-
tiOns of his fellOw-men when your
name and your coat-Of-arms will have
long been forgotten"
Little by little, he became more calm
until his violent agitation gave place to
deep but quiet sorrow.
"And yet, how ardently have loved
herr, he continued to sOliloquize. 81
gave her my whole heart-wOuld have
laid down my life for her. Had she but
told me, quietly, and calmly, that she
did not, could not, love me, her image
would have remained pure and unspot-
ted i'm my memory. Why this disdain,
this scOrn, this contempt? But l will
forget her." he emurmured, after pause,
wiping away an unwilling tear; and
then he sat down at the table near the
window, and seemed in a deep reverie,
And now the genius of music hovered
over the head of the grief-laden young
man, and voiced his woes in mOurnful
tones, that fioated to and fro on the eal
of his fantasy until they were woven
into q melody; then he seized pen
and began hurriedly to write. Note
ranged itself after note; and, wheI
one sheet was filled, he reached after
another, until the composition was fin
ished.
1t was a waltz; but, inspiriting as il
was, still there ran through its now
lively, now measured strains tone o
nameless melancholy, cry of bitter
fearful agony. nlisteningt to its notes
one might be at once joyous and sad
might laugh and-die.
After playing it two or three time.
through, Strauss laid aside his violin
gathered up the sheets, and concealed
them carefully in n drawer of his writ
ing-table.
"Rest there" said he nj ournfully
al will call you the Sophie Waltz.
In you 1 bury my hopes, my sorrows
and-my love. Yod are not for pro
fame ears. Why should the wOrlt
know that l have loved, that l hav'
suffered 2"
Months had passed, during whicl
Strauss sought, by close application, t.
forget his grief He seemed, in grea
measure, to have succeeded; for So
phie's heartlcssness, and the cOntemp
she had shown for him, were sufficien
proofs to the artist that she was un
worthy of his love. The image of tn
loved one had become fainter and evel
fainter i'm his memory, when, on