The San Antonio light. (San Antonio, Tex.) 1883-1886, 1885-04-10
THE SECRET
OF THE
STRADIv ARIU S.


passages. ] was now looking-it might
be from window-on wide expanse
Of smooth green turf. AS before, the
scene was so real, so material, that /
might have stepped out onto the sward.
There was nothing in the locality which
| could identify. A wall and some pal
ings. remember, were on the left hand;
a belt Of trees ON the right. AS looked,
saw figures ut some little distance.
Two men in their shirt-sleeves were
engaged in deadly duel. They were
not so far away but could plainly dis
tingulsh their features; and knew they
were those of the two men whom / had
seen grapple in the room. As their
slender, flashing blades twined in and
out like serpents-as they thrust and
parried, advanced and retreated-the
mysterious music entered fully into the
fray, accompanying every stroke, until,
as the arm Of one of the comb ltants
sank by his side, helpless-percl ID by
/ his antagonists blade-it swelled to u
strain of exultation.
1t was the Englisbman who was
wounded; and as the sword dropped
from his grasp, his opponent with dlfll-
| Guilty checked the impulse urging him
/ to drive his weapon through his unguard-
| ed breast; then, seeing his foe was quite
unable to renew the combat, bowed
with cold politeness, sheathed his sword,
and turned away, leaving the wounded
man to the care of his second. As the
| Frenchman vanished from my sight
among the trees at the right hand, the
scene grew blurred and faded-only the
| spell of the music continued ever.
| The dismal measure and the dismal
garnet once more. As | look at the
| p0verty-stlcken room, tsle music, elo-
quent as before, in some hidden man.
| passed since | last looked at IL. The
young Frenchman is present. Indeed,
begin now to understand that no scene
can come beneath my eyes unless he be
an actor in ii. II is his life, his love, the
| violin In its own marvellous tongue re-
lates. | wait with interest now. | have
no time TO wonder ut or speculate upon
what have seen; no time to endeavor
TO explain the phantom scenes and ac-
tions which the song of the Stradivar-
| ius has brought before me. | feel no
fear-curosity and excitement only.
Luigi's presence | have forgotten, so
intent am | upon the drama played be-
fore me.
The young man, notice, Is handsome
as ever, but paler, thinner, and care
worn. What Is the music saying now
In that strange speech which interpret
so readily Poverty and hopelessness,
loss of love, and with that loss the wish
to rise to fame.
lie is writing; but the paper before
him this time is a scorc-the score Of a
work he once thought would hand his
name down to future times. Well
know, as | watch him, that music will
never be given to the world. | know it
is night, and to kill his bitter thoughts
he is sitting down and working without
interest at his uncompleted score. As
l watch him, grieving ut his grief weird
and dreamy uneaithly soundsLuigfs
violin-bar after bar Of the music mo-
notonous and sad. Then of a sudden it
wakes to fresh life with q sort of ex-
preston of keen surprise and the young
man raises his head from tie work that
interests him no more. aud the door of
his poor dwelling opens. a few bars of
that haunting melody, that has caused
me to whisper, Tins s. Love-" merge
into strain of plainii,e hopelessness,
and the fair girl enters Sdc is closely
yelled, and enyeloped in II long dark
cloak. and as she raises the veil from
her face, and looks 10 h'm with sad and
wistful eyes, the mans heart responds
to the impassioned striu's and vibrates
with love, hopeless thOtl.i 10 be. For
know that ere two days re past she will
wed another; and the m E. nOws il, and,
crushing down his love. cures her in
his heart for her ialui.s ness. lie
stands for q moment alttr hCr entry
helpless in his surprise ut seeing her,
and then, with grand ar OF calm po.
, likeness, handing her TO one Of the crazy
chairs that furnished his poor room
waits, with u cold lace lu lN1rn the OBJ
ject of her visit, Then lhe Noman-oI
the music--pleads IN pal q, strans
for pardon and forgiven s,- pleads the
pressure put upon herbN irlVn!s-pleads
her utter helplessness IN tllur hands,
yet tells him, even WITH Tue wedding
ring waiting to encrclc Grt finger, that
he alone, the eXilcd, pow rty stricken
! Frenchman, owns the love her hear
, can give. And as the tears fall from
: her eyes, the man waves u arm rounC
: the squalid room, and slow ng by thai
gesture his utter poverty dhd hopeless
ness, commends. with n j or sneer. tn,
2 course she has taken, or ""l compelled
: to take, and asks how 1t 60 ID eXpec
3 the daughter of a noble l. II famil,
to share such home an ttich lot a
: his. | see the girl hes. loo. lalter, AM
tremble, and as she rises las man, witt
n calm air and forced csH IRE open
the door Weeping h 80, alie leave
q him; and as he closes ,' T. ;ety dool
: upon her, q wall of mn. are mourn
full than words can de- 10 fingers il
q the air, and brings the @, to my eyes
/. while the man knCel3 j and kisse
{ the very boards on wll.r.. her feet ha(
q rested
With the mirthlcss f.ile upon hi
9, face, he sits down tn his - 2, thinking
!, and the music, playing ever, gives IN
u his thoughts. As rea. them | shud
der, knowing how every fresh departur
tends ever and only to the same end
/ what has he to do with lie any longer
8 he, the last descendant of a nobl
d French family, his sovereign an exil,
Is his lands and possessions cOnilScated o
e squandered, and now he lies starving
i or soon to be starving, in u Londo
i attic. Even the fame that heOnce hope
8 to win as musician is far off; and,
n ever to be won, is IL worth strugglin
forp The past, to him, is full of agt
e nizing recOllections of relatives an
n friends whose blood has slaked tn
8, guillotine's thirst. The present is mil
> cry. The future. now that the dreal
" of love he had dared for while
1t dream is dispelled, hopeless-what, ii
ID deed, has he to do with life any Longer
Y. If he knows not how to live, at least L
knows how to die.
" Ever with the same dreary thought
n In his mind, see him take the bulk
score-the result of months, 1t may
IN years, of labor-and deliberately tet
sheet after sheet to pieces, until I'll
10 floor is Uttered with the fragment
a. And as his action tells me he renounc'
n hope, love, and fame i know | am fate
m to see an awful sight, but am powerle
in to move my eyes from the scene. i,
IS et;I1 tba M alonnbnlu pntaa aoupI. and