The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1885-08-13

did you stay so long? Every moment
now is so precious
g could leave my father no sooner,
Nannette. He is sure something will be-
fall me before | get half way to Paris.
Dear old man, he imagines every bridge,
forest and wall will conceal some one
thirsting for my life, or more especially
the few francs shall have with me. Oh,
Nannette, that have to go!"
" But you must, Victor. You will soon
return home with honors and a ribbon
like the great Counts, and then my father
will look at you, love you, because you
will have become famous and rich Oh,
that were poor. Then Victor, dear Vie
tor, | would go with you. 1t rends my
heart when think | will not see you for
a whole year" Her uplifted eyes grew
moist
"Only year, Nannette. Why it will
quickly pass and perhaps-perhaps will
return famous, who knows? And if |
succeed l will fly to Octeville on the
wings of the wind. md R claim nv little
captive from her cruel failer.''
" And you are to walk all the way to
Paris? Twenty long leagues. fear for
your endurance"
Not all the way, Nannette. Hector,
the barber, who has twice made the jour
ney, says can ride on the many carts
will meet. But it will not fatigue me.
| would walk twice the distance"
" Hist! 1t is my fathers call" She
held closer to him, trembling. "You
must not be seen, lest he would curse
you, and if he should now, oh, what a ter
rible omen it would be Farewell, Victor
All, you will not forget me, not even for
one brief moment. Victor, my love, my
love-"
annette, can you say so - kissing
and fondling her tenderly. Farewell,
sweetheart Look forward to a short
twelve months, and then"
Fly, fly he comes! Victor !"
they parted. Nannette's fathers harsh
voice rising in the quiet night air, with
an execration at her delay.
Two years have passed, and Victor,
now latont, the composer, is the talk OF
the gay metropolis. The humble school
masters son i'll two short years had be-
come celebrated And if the opera,
which that night was to be produced for
the first time, proved the success in the
eyes of the public, as in his own, the rib
hoped for, would hang on his breast.
1t was the old story, of genius rising
above all obstacles and finding its level.
Nictor's talent was natural and inborn.
1t filled him, body and soul, and he knew
little else. The notes came to him as
readily as his letters. lie would play
long hours together and then write down
the products Of his efforts in little discon-
nectcd passages, portraying his present
feelings, or some scene he had witnessed,
which had filled him with overfowing
emotion, and which he longed to convert
into music Again he would add to his
masterpiece as though inspired
He had reached Paris, and after few
days wandering, had pleased the conduc-
tor of an orchestra in one of the minor
theatres, whom he met in an accidental
way. This man, seeing Nictor's great
talent, had pressed him into his orchestra,
and greediy kept him away from those
who would recognize the prize he had,
and take it away from him, so he kept the
innocent, generous young man for SIX
months, producing Nictor's compositions
under his own name But one day the
fraud was discovered, and Victor left his
service, taking his place in the orchestra
of the Opera Comique. He rose from one
sep to another, and at last left the thea
trc, to devote his entire time to the opera
which was to make him famous. But his
ri I,l,.
that his genius, having been gwen the
opportunity, had triumphed. Men be-
come sour and abuse the world, which, to
their shallow minds, ought to receive
them with open arms and lavish its praise
upon them, because it is too blind to dis
cern and appreciate their genius. Bah
they have none. They possess nothing
but conceit, distorted by their morbid
imaginations into what they choose to
call their own greatness
He had corresponded regularly with
Nannctte, but suddenly her letters ceased,
and after waiting patiently some weeks,
he wrote his father for information re-
garling her The schoolmasters letter
filled him with CONSERVATION. Nannette's
fathers property had been contiscated by
the government for alleged participation
in a certain conspiracy, himself and
daughter banshed from the country.
Victor had sent on unlimited money, but
its use had failed to trace them further
than Just beyond the frontier of Russia,
and there all traces were lost. The shock
had made him i'll for long weeks, though
he recovered but ever afterWard was
changed man. He loved little Nannette
honestly, simply, and he had thus strug-
gled for fame that he might claim her, as
well as crafty his ambition, and now she
was gone forever, to distant, unknown
lands. He buried himself in his music
that he might forget he had ever loved.
Vain, futile attempt. He might have
tried to forget he ever lived.
And now on that winters night he was
To make an undying name. The musical
world already well knew him through his
many minor productions, but little did it
realize what his opera would be, the result
of months hard and contining labor.
Victor stood alone upon the stage of
the theatre, facing the glaring footlights
and great auditorium with its sea of NOV
ing hands, handkerchief and heads; he
did not hear the thunders of applause, the
bravos, the cries " Lafont! Lafont!" He
stood there dazed and bewildered, his face
vacant in expression, and he only me-
chanically bowed recognition of the great