The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-02-13

nothing there but q bed, a chair, a table,
three or four musical instruments, and
the sublime musical-box.
"Monsieur charms me with his con-
descensions," said my conductor.
81 hope you will believe" replied,
"that T am honored to be invited
here"
He went over to the little table, took
q key from his pocket, wound up the
box, and placed his hand on a crank.
Then looking at me with infinite plea
sure, he said I should now hear the
"Sophie Valse," by Strauss: ,
1t was rapturous. Conceive a grand
piano, PLAYED by a master, every note
robbed of that harshness and acute force
which are inseparable from it upon an
instrument of the kind; imagine an
orchestra of fairies; imagine anything
likely to hold you entranced for hours
and YOU may obtain a faint idea OF the
music produced by my neighbours box.
When the piece was finished, L fell upon
his neck. He patted me on the shoulder,
and said I had a soul.
"You must breakfast with me, l re-
turned. "What is your name?"
"Wolfgang Mozart d'Aubepine," he
answered proudly. ,
"Then, Monsieur Wolfgang Mozart
d'Aubepine, permit me to have the
honor"
calais" he returned, Struggling his
shoulders, ct have already break
tasted"
To refuse seemed to break his heart.
swell I will call upon you during
the day-probably this evening""
"Come in the twilight; then you shall
hear the Tempest of the Heart"
swear T will not disappoiut you !"
hus mslol dramatically I left him.
When evening came, I presented my
self at his door, and was greeted en-
Enthusiastically. "Come in; come In"
cried NJ. ~d'Aubepine,
How rapidly had our friendship grown!
When we met now only for the second
time in our lives, we seemed to have
known each other for years. AS for M.
d'Aubepine, he was one of those men
you cannot help liking. His manner
was so full of artlessness and simplicity,
his nature so Inclusive and poetical, I
could have sworn fidelity to him on the
spot.
We went into the room together and
sat down.
"You are devoted to music?" I said,
glancing at the instrument hanging on
! the wall.
cts my existence !" he replied.
"Do YOU perform on the violina"
"Ah, Monsieur, only in imagination |!
You behold a real ~Straduarius; but
faith has ordained that I shall v
wake it's chords"
"Indeed !" T exclaimed, deeply inter-
ested.
"Too true, unfortunately. But do
not press me I beg. There are wounds
in the heart that never heal; touch them
and they bleed afresh."
His utterance claimed my instant
sympathy. I besought him to believe
that I should not recall such sad mem
cries again.
"Ah, my FRIEND" said he. "your
kindness overpowers me! 70 a man
whose past is bitterness, whose future is
a blank, what can be sweeter than SYM
pathy like yours?"
Then, to change the subject, I began
to talk of travels. We compared u
experiences, and I found that NJ. Aube-
pine had seen nearly every part of the
world. he was full of anecdote and
description, and I could have listened to
him forever. Our interview lasted over
two hours. When I arose to 60, he said,
"You have not yet heard my box this
evening. May I set it going?"
eff you will favor me, Monsieur, 1
shall be delighted"
He wound it up, and touched the
crank, when solemly and slowly, pealed
forth that magnificent air, "Tempest OF
the Heart" Tears came into my eyes,
and my whole being was subdued.
While the wonderful melody was yet
lingering in my ears, I pressed my cou-
panion's hand, and retired.
From this night dated the singular
intimacy which existed between us until
the catastrophe occurred which Is to
form the climax of my narrative. l spent
hours and hours daily with NJ. d'Aube-
pine, always with pleasure and always
with profit. :,
In this manner passed the rapid weeks,
when one evening as we were sitting in
the dark, with the door closed, heard q
sigh escape from my friends breast that
panied me beyond expression.
"You are melancholy" said.
"I pray you will not let it trouble
you," he answered.
"But under the circumstances of our
friendship, there is no help for it," re-
Joined. "I behold you suffer, and it
grieves me to be able to afford no re-
tour friendship? Yes; you have
been devoted to me, Monsieur, and I am
truly grateful"
"The best proof of that will be to let
me hear your SORROWS" was my reply.
"Would that I might be allowed to
breathe them forth in the melody of that
violint But it must not be-"
thought I perceived in his tone a
very slight, though unmistakable, invi-
tation to further scrutiny into hissecrets,
and I promptly began to press him.
Finally, he answered 81 am a political
exile"
"You have risked your life in return
ing to France"
eyes. Three weeks ago I set my
foot on the pavements of Paris, for the
first time in fifteen years. I found my
friends dead, my home desolate, myself
hopelessly ruined. You, Monsieur, an
Englishman, know the blessings of lib
erty. Would you not die rather than
lose it2"
81 would perish at my Preside" I
exclaimed, rising in my seat, "in de-
fence of my sacred rights"
"What, then, do you think when you
look across the sea and behold so many
nations in chains?
"Wha do you think" demanded.
ga thousands times have I been upon
the point of springing to their aid.
Should France rise, at the moment
when the tocsin sounded I should seize
my musket and fly to the Streets"
"You would bare your breast to guard
poor. abused France" cried NJ.
d'Aubepine, pacing the room in an &C.
stacy of delight.
"Yes,"I replied, in tones that rang
through the room. eyes, I wonld be
her shield. I should fall ~lifeless at her
feet rather than surrender !"
HHomo RI NV orus NV hrava friend