Deseret evening news. [volume] (Great Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1867-1920, 1892-12-12
STORY OF A WALTZ.

fJaoaues Orenbach. the author Of the follow
Ing story. IA the well known composer Of light
opcra;1
NY mother and sisters used TO lull
me to sleep by singing TO me n sweet,
slow waltz. / had never heard all
of It. The first eight bars were the
only parts of it that ] know. Per-
haps those loved ones themselves
were ignorant of the rest. These
eight bars haunted mc-iixed them
selves on my brain with all the
greater force because my charmed
heart OPENED wide all tho doors to
them. Did not each note bring TO
me thousand tender recollectionsi
When they fitted through my mind
/ saw our old home-my fathers
home. heard the voices Of all those
from whom l had long been sepa.
rated. whom had loved and who
had loved me most warmly.
was in Paris all alone, earning
my daily bread by playing the vio-
loncello in the orchestra Of the Opera
Comiquc. | was then at an age
when most children are still at
school, with many years Of school
days still before them. Although /
was quietly jogging ON toward tho
future, ! regretted the past. Soil
tude was s, metimes very oppressive
10 mo.
This waltz, though nothing very
wonderful. had ut last come TO as
sumo proportions In my mind. 1t
had ceased to be q nero waltz. IL
had become almost prayer, which
hummed from morning TO night,
not as suipplication TO heaven, but
because 1t seemed TO mo that when
repeated II my family heard me, and
when it echoed IN my memory !
could have sworn II was my loved
ones at home who responded to me.
cannot express how eagerly / de
sired TO hear the whole of that waltz.
could not deceive myself My con
tinuations seemed charming 90 me
when | extcmporized them, but when
repeated thom they spoke TO IN,
only Of myself, and nothing of my
loved ones at home. nor OF the de
parted days OF childhood.
Years came and went, but thos,
eight bars did not fade away from
my memory; on the contrary. the!
seemed deeper craven ON IL witt
each succeeding year.
One day. feeling that could stan'
II no longer, l set out for home 4
hunt for the waltz. As there ap
peared TO be no special cause for m,
Journey, my father and the rest o
the family covered me with caresscs
They attributed my return to an in
crease Of affection for them. They
were mistaken. for / loved them >,
dearly that could not, for the lii,
of me, have loved them more than
did.
dared not breathe to them on,
word about the waltz, lest I shoul'
destroy their illusions. 1t seemed I
mo l should wound their feeling
were I to refer to IL. Those WI
know what 1t IL TO love will unde
stand what / mean.
One evening my father. who WI
fond OF hearing me play, asked f.
some music. He was learned an
severe judge, and / always felt n Ii
tie nervous mt being asked to pln
before him. That evening, howovo
did not wait to be pressed, an
without any prelude TO make m
fingers agile ! played the famor
bars OF the waltz which prosecute
me.
rs it possiblei" said my fathel
"Do you still remember thinner
waltzr
"ZimmerrI exclaimed. as thl
waltz by Zimmeri Are you sure ,
that Who was Zimneri'
"Zimmer was "A young COMPOSE
who in times past had some vogue
replied my father. He began III
usually well aud was becoming pc
ular when he disappeared, and N
body knows what became OF him. "
''Do You know the waltz fro
beginning TO endN
mo, do not"
"How could you, with your pr
digious memory, have forgotten it
For the excellent reason that
never knew it. Your poor, del
mother sang it to put you to slice
and dare say she never knew mo-
of II than those eight bars"
The next day visited every mus
shop in Cologne.
asked the dealers for thinner
waltz. did not know its title, Sc
said, 1T begins in this way" and
sang the first eight bars. They look
at me smilingly, but everywhere
met with negative reply. ! !
turned quite vexed to Paris.
For years after this experience NJ
during all my travels never c
tered music shop without aslii
for Zimmer's waltz. But all II
efforts TO unearth it We're in val
At last gave up all hope OF ev
finding the rest of it and content
myself with the eight bars which
variably haunted my memory.
Ono morning while was settlil
anaccount with Brandus, the mus
publisher in Paris, he said TO me;
n have Just heard Of n poor fellC
who really has some TALENT
Are you going to publish !
nugicfr