Omaha daily bee., 1889-06-09


its neat little music hall.
The stranger visited me at my hotel,
but / declined his-invitation 10 return
the visit, and withesome petulance, I
fear, begged to be excused from going
TO see Aronsonheims grave, as he urged
me to do.
"My dear sir,",I SAID, "what in the
world is the man to me?'
gave little shudder rs I said it., but
do not think he noticed it. He left me
again repeating, his request that l
would play the dead mans last compo-
sition that night. / promised to do so
not like the curious way in which the
gentleman looked at me as spoke these
words.
And now l did very curious thing,
which Skab never understood and never
will understand unless he reads this
narrative.
sent for him and ordered him to call
in our advance agent, and cancel every
future engagement. My six months
contract had expired about month be-
fore, but l had gone on with my per-
formances on the same terms.
The reader can imagine the scene
that followed. i do not care to dwell
on it.
walked to the hall that night with
feeling of relief so great that it almost
overcame the usual feeling of horror
and reluctance with which approached
q performance.
found the hall packed and jammed,
and the applause that greeted my APP
pearance was, 7 think, the heartiest l
ever received.
The usual cold chill took hold Of me
as seated myself at the instrument;
the phantom fingers grasped my own and
| played on just as usual. l suppose l
had executed over two-thirds of the
number of pieces l usually gave and
retired for rest behind the wings
when Skab came around and spoke to
me.
You are not playing in your usual
STYLE" said he, "What is the matter?"
| told him that was unaware of any
difference. / was conscious [ was not
exactly candid in the statement, for
there was nervousness apparent TO
myself aud a strange tremulousness in
the fingers that grasped my own.
l returned on the stage and took my
seat. Just before l stretched my arms
out to the keyboard ! happened to raise
my eyes and saw in the box just in front
of me the most gloriously beautiful girl
ever looked upon. She was not exactly
blonde, yet not brunette, with rich
chestnut hair, an exquisite complexion,
and eyes, the like of which, no Italian
sky ever equalled; blue they might have
been, for black they were not, but if
blue it was like the azure of the illim-
liable sky reflected in the blue depths
of the unfathomable ocean. You lost
yourself looking in them.
saw that this beautiful creature was
watching me intently. Her rich red
ir,,t tod hot frl fNfh
snow white teeth could be seen between
them. She was leaning slightly for
ward, and before l. touched a key felt
that | could not Withdraw my eyes
from the strange light that cleaned in
hers.
And vet 1 was conscious that she,
while watching, me, was looking beyond
me, over my shoulder, and if l could
have done SO | would have turned my
head. But before could stir muscle
the hands seized me with a grip-this
time so hard gave an involuntary Cry
and l heard, as if in a dream, the
opening strains of Schubert's serenade.
Never have heard anything play this
witching music as / then heard it. But
for once my sense of hearing was
dimmed, so completely had the sense of
sight taken possession of me, so entirely
was l lost in the gaze of the magnificent
eyes that looked through and beyond
me. that only knew when the music
| ended by the applause of the audience.
An encore was demanded. Still
watching the beautiful girl, who seemed
now for the first time to be aware Of my
gaze, my hands touched the KEYS, and
ere a single note was sounded / knew
what was coming. Loves Question,
l heard Ivan shout, and l saw the beau
tiful face above me redden and then
grow as white as sea foam.
Oh! how that music sounded. My
flesh grew cold, my eyes were flooded
with tears. my heart beat against my
bosom as if it would burst through my
flesh. On and on, in a strain whose
ravishing sweetness no earthly melody
ever equalled, l heard Aronsonheim at
last tell to the bride of his soul the love
earth had forbidden him to speak.
She heard it. saw her rise from her
seat, push back with a magnificent ges-
ture the hair that rippled over her tore
head and lean across the brass rod that
encircled her box. Her bosom was
heaving like a tempest tossed billow;
her breath, could see, was coming
fast and short. Her lips were wider
apart and her eyes looked as the half
opened gates of paradise must look to a
condemned soul.
ParGooh VI ucr dB BltdbiOu. oWuyluB
from side to side felt that the climax
was approaching. The discord at the
awful ending of the written score was
coming. I, too, breathed sharp and
hard, but clenched my teeth in terrible
fear.
Would those hands clutch my throat?
Those cold, clammy fingers tear me as
the despalring soul felt that music could
not tell its anguish? The last bar was
reached, but instead OF the crash of dis
cordant notes, pure and sweet as an
angels song a sublime symphony crept
from the keys and made the warm
blood leap in my heart. 1t was no
questioning music any longer; it was a
joyous knowledge that filled the soul
and overran the senses with silvery
flood OF harmony.
''Thou art mine!" it said; "mlne for
ever and ever! No more despair, no
more doubt, no more fear! Joy, Joy,
joy! even as the angels feel in the pres
ence OF God. Mine! mine! mine"
My head swan; reason reeled; but
above the music j heard voice cry,
'Rudolph!" Rudolph"
T.. ..nA r