McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-11-06

The night of the concert arrived, and
then l saw '.La Filomela." How shall
/ describe my impressionsp We all
know how difficult it usually is to recol-
lect the idea we formed of those with
whom we are now intimate when our
acquaintance with them was only begin
ming, and yet the memory of the picture
this girl made on my mind is clear
enough to me now. A crowded room,
a fashionable audience, a popular
tenor, tremendous pianist-heat, light
perfumes, fowers-all that had made
up the scene faded as the folds of the
heavy curtain at the side of the plat
form were parted, and a slight, girlish
figure appeared, dressed simply in
creamy satin and with string of pearls
around her throat and bunch of Grim
son rosebuds for sole ornament. She
walked gracefully and was entirely
self-possessed; when she stood before
the audience she raised her lovely gray
eyes and gravely, quietly scanned the
faces of her listeners, Her manner
struck me greatly; there was no trace
of excitement, scarcely sign of interest
in what she had to do, yet the look she
threw along the rows of seats made me
feel that it was a matter of consequence
to her who filled them.
''She sang some music by young
amateur which had been written for
her, and the composer was her accom-
PIANIST The words were sad ones. and
each verse ended with refrain of ''Ma
pace mai, mair' The idea was that
the singer could taste love again, fame,
ambition, but that remorse prevented
any hope of peace; and the carnestness
with which the signorina gave "But
peace, oh! nevermore," was almost
terrible. When the song ceased, the
audience remained perfectly still for
some seconds, and then whirlwind of
applause literally shook the room. No
encores were permitted, owing to the
length of the programme, so ''La Flo
mela'' was not seen again till her next
turn came in its course, and then she
sang an elaborate scene, which dis
played the excellence of her training
and the beauty of her voice, but to me
it was meaningless. In the first piece
was the soul of the singer, in the second
only the power of the songstress. After
she left the room it became dark to me,
and promising to return in time to es-
cort my sister to her carriage, went
out into the starlit streets, thankful to
be alone, for l realized at once what
had befallen me. |, Paul Messent,
wrapped up heart and soul in profess
sion which devours the minds and bod
les of its votaries, had fallen blindly,
desperately in love with this girl whom
had seen once and heard twice, and
for me the world was changed.
Ipassed wakeful night, but by the
morning my resolution was taken and
my plans made. l would seek this
girl, and if possible win her. Why
should 1 not! [ felt certain that no
fault of her own caused her isolation,
and for anything else 1 cared not at all.
A week after the concert my sister
gave musical party, and then L had
chance of speaking with La Signorina
Martigny. She was sweet and gracious,
and one evenings companionship SEEM
ed almost to make us friends. 1 went
to every house [ could at which she
sang, and used every means in my pow
er to penetrate the veil of mystery with
which she enveloped herself; in vain.
At the end of a month [ found myself
more fondly attached to and more hope
lessly apart from her than | could have
believed possible. | had never passed
her threshold, but haunted the street
in which she lived, just for the sake of
seeing her enter or descend from her
carriage, and gaining a smile or look
of recognition.
l was becoming desperate, and medi-
tating an avowal of my passion to her,
when one afternoon my sister said:
paul, [ have been to La Filomela's'
house."
'.Indeed!'' said I; have you made
any startling discoveries?'
NO." was the answer, ''but [ think
Giulia was veXed with me-"
s.Why did you go?' askedI
81 had note from her this morning,
asking if she might postpone to-mor-
rows lesson till Thursday" was the
reply, ''but that cannot be, as we 90 to
Versailles on that day. you recollect.
| forgot to write to her before going
out, and as was passing the door this
afternoon / sought admittance, really
without giving the matter the second
thought.
"Well?" 1 inquired, as my sister
paused.
81 he door was opened by a very old
servant, who looked at me with sur
prise, but ushered me into the prettiest
little sitting room 1 have seen for
long time. There is no lack of comfort
in her surroundings. 1 had time to
notice that there was large armchair
near the fire, with plenty of cushions
in it, and beside it small table, with a
spectacle case and an embroidered
velvet cap on it, before Giulia came in.
Her manner was stiff, but she thanked
me for the trouble was taking to az
range the change of day, for which she
apologized. Her father lives with her,
1 feel sure, and he is old and infirm."
''You ought to be detective, Laura"
said l, with such powers of observation