The Sunday tatler and Jersey City express. (Jersey City, N.J.) 1883-1886, 1885-02-15
KARL BERGER'S PUPIL.

tai instruction and to extol the method O
their northern compeers. Karl Berge
came. His name sounded like German s
and he played music like master, and
that was all that was needed Pupils flock
ed to him, and he set his own prices. Ever
the city itself, through its governors, agreed
to place three pupils with him annually, a
its own expense, as long as he should re
main there. This was triumph enough tx
turn the head of much older man, an6
Karl himself was only three and twenty
years old. He sat in his room one nigh
about two weeks after his arrival, smoking
his big pipe with china bowl, and con
graduated himself. Here was success in
ded!
He wondered what his old teacher, the
Herr Kappellmeister, would say to his sue.
cess. He looked around the room, furnish
ed as comfortably as most in the city, and
felt grim satisfaction that the plebian
Kari Berger was taking his ease in the very
chamber where Caesar Borgia had once
slept. His was nobility as high as his
ancient predecessor, he said to himself, and
he laughed grimly, for the young Swede
had but little respect for not ility, and he
often spoken spoke of his ancestorors, the
Berger Jarls and Vikin,s, as thieves and
cutthroats.
While he sat musing, lazily watching the
smoke curling up toward the blotched and
crumbled, almost obliterated frescoes OF
the vaulted ceiling above, a servant brought
In note to ssIll Maestro Berger" The City
of Milan informed his excellency, the Macs
tro, that the last of the three pupils had
been chosen, and the pupil, the Contessa
Lucia Vinella, would attend him whenever
the Maestro would be pleased to receive
her. Signor Berger scowled and shrugged
his shoulders He had already, in the short
time he had been in Milan, heard several
contessasl" play, and he had not been
favorably impressed by their genius, and,
indeed, it must be admitted that the ladies
In question had greater desire to ses the
handsome foreigner than to make any pro-
gress in music. He had forgotten that the
three pupils were too poor to pay for their
tuition and were therefore given their musi-
cal education by the charity of the city.
However, he sent back an answer that he
would give the contessa her first lesson at
8 o'clock the next afternoon, and then he
took up his violin, and the contessa and
Milan aud success and the Kappellmeister
passed from his mind, while the music
scared in tremulous vibrations through the
room.
The next day everything went wrong.
He had yet to learn the patience necessary
for teacher, and the countless mistakes of
his pupils, the jarring discords and the
seeming stupidity rendered him nearly
furious. At 3 o'clock the charity pupil,
Contessa Lucia, was ushered into his pres
ence, followed by an old woman, her escort
The contessa did not look very aristocrat-
- ~. k1~ - L
was cheap. In fact, except that her dress
was neater and more tastefully arranged, it
was about the same as the servants. The
maestro was walking up and down the
room with an ominous frown on his face.
BE wheeled around and looked at her.
Swell, Signora. what do you wish?" he
said, Grossly.
81 have come for my lesson, Signor," she
replied, timidly.
he looked at his tablets.
"You are either too early or too late.
There is Countess Vinella who comes now.
But if she does not come
81 am the contessa, signor," and she
proceeded to unwrap her violin from its
green covering, while the servant hobbled
to the nearest chair.
"You came to amuse yourself in die
tante way on the violin 2"
81 came to learn to play. Maestro to be
able to teach music some day. Who
knows r and she laughed a little nervous
ly.
ssCountessas don't teach music" he said
scornfully. sit is only poor plebians who
do that. Let me hear you play"
She nestled the violin on her shoulder
caressingly, and obediently commenced.
The air was simple, pleasant lullaby, in a
minor key, soft and sad, which had been
sung by many Roman mothers to their
children. One of those airs which, like the
German Leider, one finds among the peo-
pie, its author and origin lost in antiquity,
yet everlasting from its pathos and tender
ness. The violin was fit to be its interpre-
ter, an old Cremona almost black with age
The music foated out from the five culver
ering strings The girl, her eyes almost
closed and her head bent forward, stood
erect, playing. The old servant sat list
lassly, caught by the music swaying to and
fro, as if rocking some child, dead fifty
years ago. Karl Berger stood frowning in
the shadow of a eurtain. What right had
q conntessa, young girl, to play like that I
What right had she to violin which was
SO better than his2 The soft repeated
strains came to an end, and the Gsrl turned
proudly toward him
ssIt is . wretched psace, wretcheday play
ed, he said, Grossly, "You will never
make an artistic of yourself. 1t lacks soul,
1t lacks rhythm, it lacks everything
These petMlant wordE--words which the
honest Karl Berger was ashamed of even
when he uttered them struck the Young
girl like blow. Her face, proud and hap
Ply at her successful rendering of fhe sim
pie peasant air, fell suddenly at this harsh
verdict, and. girl like, she burst into sobs
and left the room, while the servant stared
stolidly at the fierce foreigner and then
rose and hobbled after the girl.
Karl Berger felt ashamed of himself and
his sudden fit Of anger. He took up his
own violin, but it sounded harsh. He was
cold and courteous to the pupils who came
that afternoon, but he was glad when the
day was over. They were lighting the
lamps in the courtyard below when he look
ed out. He watched the servants as they
put the lamps in their places, and after
they had left he stood at the window and
looked absently down on the empty court
yard beneath, when he saw figure coming
slowly across the yard He stepped out on
the balcony and called to her, for he recog-
nized the escort of the Contessa Lucia
When the woman had come up he asked
her:
ssWhere does the Contessa Vinella live?'
Tin this house, signor, with relative.
The contessa has no other friends and she
lives here, but not in idleness, signor. She
is too proud for that She takes care of the
house, and works like servant. She has
no friends but me was her nurse. She
is too proud to 60 with the others in the