The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1880-01-23
Select Story.
THE STAGE FIEND.
From Sunday World.

The wind howled and swept down Fifth
avenue with a dismal moan, rattlng the
shutters ard weathercocks of the silent SOM
bre mansions which line the Corso of the
New Word. The day-a dreary, wet and
cold November day--was gradually wan
ing into night. Here and there street
lamp fickered up, and from behind the
closely drawn blinds of the windows ruddy
light shone into the street, suggestive of
comfortable homes and warm fire-places-
for those who enjoyed the supreme happiness
of home on this dreary night. This was
evidently not the case with an old fiddler
who stood on the sidewalk bareheaded with
his gray hair flowing in the wind, playing
his instrument diligently. Through the
stiffness OF the streets the sounds of his tid-
die were heard distinctly and sounded less
dscordant than performances of street mu-
sicians are generally apt to be. His reporto-
ire was was not rich Parigi Cara from
the "Travsta, ,""Santa Lucia" and a romance
by Gordigiana were all he could play. But
he played these songs with genuine feeling,
tolerable precision and with that peculiar
chic which Immediately betrayed the Italian
performing his own national music. After
the close of each piece he wistfully looked
up at the closed windows on both sides, a
shiver passed over his emaciated, poorly-clad
figure, and after waiting few moments with
out result he again took up his fiddle and be-
gan the next piece, While the angry No.
vember night closed in on this dreary pic
ture Cf human desolation and helpessness,
the glow of great fire burning cheerfully
in luxuriantly furnished parlor of the
house at the gate of which the old musician
was standing shone on another picture of
solitary grief and misery. A young woman
dressed with sort of careless luxury in a
morning robe of yellow silk, paced fretfully
to and fro in the large room. Now she APP
preached the piano and played with one
finger the first notes of "Pasga la Bella" "
then she sprang up again. wrung her hands,
while something escaped her lips which
sounded very much like an Italian oath and
yawned in the most dismal and 1--WE are sorry
to say inelegant fashion. Here, in this
abode of wealth and luxury, ennui, the
the dreadest ofall the monsters which aasail
and torment humanity, had evidently fixed
his residence Suddenly its fairvictim pulled
at the bell with an angry jerk, which sent
the sound ringing and vibrating through the
whole house. A young chambermaid ap-
peared on the thresh old.
'Annetee, said the mistress, in French,
go and call that musician into the basement
| feel terribly dull tonight. Perhaps few
minutes conversation with the man will
amuse me. But he must not know that
am the mistress of the house. will change
my dress and go down stairs. You and
Jean treat me just as if ] were the ladies
maid or something of the kind Do you
hear p
The young girl smilingly nodded and with
drew. She was evidently used to the man!
whims of her capricious mistress. A mo-
ment later the fiddling on the street ceased
and the broken voice of the old man wa
| Htdiu III lhC baoCiLVHb oitooihS
in very imperfect English on the head o
the "noble signora" who had taken pity oil
a forlorn, helpless old man. While he wa
yet speaking the lady herself entered tn
basement room. She had changed her dres
for palmer gown, and in pursuance of tn
directions they had received neither Annett
nor the man servant Jean noticed in al,
way her presence.
We'll, have you a good appetite p sh
asked the old man, in Italian. The lad
has ordered us to give you to eat and drinl
as much as you like
oh, my most humble thanks to her ex
cellency the old man exclaimed, rap
turously, pointing to the wine and the slice
of cold roast beef which stood before him Of
the table Il have never had so good mea
since the blessed days in our own believe
Italy, when ! played first fiddle at Sa
Carlo to the sing of the great Barberini.'
At this time the lady suddenly sprang u
and imposing, with imperative gesture, 81
lence on her servants, took a seat close b
the musician.
so you have accompanied the Barberini
she asked, in an eager tone.
Many time, Sgnorina And / sha
never forget those nights if / live to be 8
old as Methuselah. Oh, what an artist
what blessed child of God she was, an
what shame it was for her to quit th
stage
You think so, retorted the lady, sharl
ly. DO you know that she left the stal
to marry a man whom she dearly To-
ledH'