New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1882-03-15

and harsh criticisms Of erstwhile friends,
bitter to death against rival violinist
whose fame soon threatened to eclipse
his own, and crushed by the loss of his
young wife, had seized the two treasures
still left to him, his two-year old child
and his violin-and with them had fled
away from all old associations and burr
ed himself. in one of the obscure streets
of an American city.
Here he had eked out a scanty pit
lance by teaching his mother tongue to
those who would learn and here he
trained his daughter, his one music pu-
pill for he steadily and obstinately refus-
ed to impart aug ht of his skill to others
from the time the baby fingers could
clasp the bow; and, in aiding her pro-
gress, had forgotten. somewhat of his
own trial.
But the wound still ranked.
''Liebchen,' he would say sometimes
to Marguerite, as she carefully laid away
his old violin, after hours of practice, to
busy herself about household matters.
'Liebchen, thou goest bravely. Only
see l will tell thee a secret. Some day,
when thou playest to the great people
and the critics. and the old eyes would
flash with scorn and the old voice trem-
BILE with bitterness, ''play not these in
SEPARATIONS of the old masters. Make thy
violin to speak, whistle like bird, bark
as the dog, or scream as the bose kind.
That is what these critics will like-that
will bring thee fame! Tricks, not music,
seest thoup Only, motor my Cremona,"
hugging the old instrument in his vast
ed arms; ''that would be profanation;'
his voice deep and impressive as roll
of thunder on the last word.
Marguerite would assent to all he said
her mind entirely blank as to the brill
liant career he seemed confidently to ar
range for her, her thoughts wandering
away, to the quiet, happy home life, the
loving words of a young mechanic had
pictured to her as their blessed future.
At last a change came into the girls
uneventful life!
A great pianist, in his rambles about
the city, CHANGED to hear the girl-artist
as she practiced, and, presto! the road
to the stage which had hitherto seemed
barred against her progress now OPEN
ed clear of all obstacles, alluring, en-
chanting.
Flattered, coaxed, petted by the per-
sons whose very name had hitherto filled
her with awe, urged on by poverty and
by the thought that she might win back
the fame that had once cast halo
around her father, it was nothing to be
wondered at that her innate vanity and
'slumbering ambition awoketo life-that
she forgot her lover and his happy plan
ming, that she consented to be taken I'M
der her discoverer's patronage.
Il must she urged, in reply to all
young Earlston's arguments. ''Don't
you understand, Fred? Vaterchen is an
old man, he needs rest and comforts.
He cannot live with me much longer;
what else can do to care for him, to
keep myself when he is gone?' and she
looked up into the frowning young face
above her, her blue eyes filed with
tears.
''Rely on me, Marguerite. Trust to
you think that would ever let YOU SUI
fer, dear? Come to me now, you and
your father.''
The girl moved away from him, her
face almost sullen at this overthrowing
of her own good reason. with which she
sought to blind her own conscience and
the eyes of others, for wishing to leave
her old monotonous life. She walked
slowly over to the window and looked
out to where the lovely old elms were
being despoiled of their fresh Spring
foliage by an innumerable host of small,
black worms with which call green
things were that year infested; glanced
from them in their writhing wearying
hideousness, up to where swarm Of
gayly colored moths, newly released
from the groveling life and brief prison,
were fitting and fluttering in the sun
shine, then turned back to the humble
room with its one waiting occupant
again.
Fritz" she said, going to him and
laying hand on each of his shoulders,
II will tell you the truth. am tired,
desperately tired, of this stupid life.
will die if I remain in this awful stagna-
ton longer" passionately. II have
been crawling and held in check long
enough" with a backward glance out
at the marauders. ''Now, I, too want
to try my wings, to flutter about in the
sunshine for time 1t is cruel, cruel
to keep me here!''
'.Liebchen," he answered, calling her
by her old pet name, though kind of
despair shone from his -''Liebchen,
| cannot keep you against your will; I
cannot even ask you to stay now,' and
he took the slender hands from his
shoulders and held them close in his
own strong palms for moment, land
so go0d-by to you-and happiness
''But l will come back" she urged,
hurried)y frightened now at her own
work. Il will come back to you, some
time.''
'.Yes," he answered with a bitter
smile, "as the moth returns to it's own
ways"
And then he left her, feeling that the
light had gone from his life, while she
after one day of fierce anguish, had
again been soothed and stimulated by
her new friends to forgetfulness of all
else but the thought of her new career.
All during the Spring and Summer
she practiced more earnestly, more as
siduously than ever before; strong res
olution lending her physical strength,
boundless ambition guiding her fingers
through the intricacies of scale and ar
peggio.
In the early Fall came the eventful
night. The spacious opera house with
it's rows upon rows of upturned faces
the faces of those upon whose smile or
frown hung the success or failure of her
artist-life; the idle, lack-lustre faces of
amusement seekers, and, above and be-
You'd them, the dear, familiar faces of
her girlhood days.
AS she stood looking down upon them
all for ono che l,oc:%n%ol -