The morning call., 1892-03-27
4 STRANGE STORY.

Ihad known Beethoven Koffsky for some
years, and had always been interested in
him and his marvellous gift of music He
was a curious, half-staryed looking creature,
jerky and voluble OF speech. addicted to
gesture, sensitive, enthusiastic, ridicu-
lousy vain, and as guileless and easily
duped as child. This last characteristic
accounted, perhaps, tor his never getting
on, in spite Of his genids He was COM
poser-and very fine composer. too-but
he seemed quite unable to impress publish
ers with n right view of his talents. De-
easionally he would get song published,
or tuneless aud inferior piannforte piece.
but after a day or two of affiaence lie would
always sink into his habitual slough of pow
erty. K0fsky's mother had been an English
woman, and from her. he told NE. he had
inherited his singular genius and passion for
music; it was she. too. who had insisted on
Gestowing uron him the somewhat ambi-
tiOus name of Beethoven. kOffsky had
adored his mother, and could never speak
of her without tears. So far as | could
learn, she had never known happy or a
comfortable moment from the day of her
runaway marriage with Kofsky pere, and
| was quite glad to learn that the poor crea-
ture had been at peace now for many years
under the scanty earth of a crowded Lon
don graveyard. Koffsky rarely mentioned
his father. and all had ever gathered
| about this parent was that he was Pole
and still lived in some remote corner of his
native land whence his son evidently did
not care to uneaTth him. | had nay own
| idea of what kind of man the elder kGflsky
! had been, and privately thought that it was
from him Beethoven had inherited his long,
! matted hair, his wild, brilliant eyes, and
| Not that blamed K0ffsky for constitu-
| tiOnal leaning toward dirt; he was a DO
! heman. and dirt is al dear to the Bohemian
! as his tub to the military man or his club to
| the swell.
| 0lcourse Koffsky was married he was just
| the kind of incompetent, improvident. in
| capable kind of man who was bound to
| marry and burden the nation with family
| of panners. j was very sorry for his wife.
| She was a poor nursery g0veTness when
koffSky first met her, with five dlSagreabie
| children tn take care of. | suppose she
| thought any life would be preferable TO the
| one she was leading and k0ffsky, though
grinly, was a good looking man, and ex-
| tremrlY interesting aud even attractive
| considered in the light of musical genius.
| Once married / am not sure that Mrs.
| koffsky continued long to think that she
| had improved her position Mary was a
! pretty. deiicate-looking little creature, ana
| the life she led was too hard for her.
| In the course of four years the Koffskys
| had as many children. ana the wife's hands
/ were very full. l often dropped in at their
| miserable little lodgings, and it was pitt
! fuI sight to see poor little Mary struggling
| with those four singularly unmanageable
/ children. She worked hard TO bring them
mp in her own ideas Of cleanliness, but their
/ Polish blood and their fathers example
| were too much for her--Soap and water held
| no place in the young Kofskys' scheme of
| life. and even the baby kicked and screamed
| when the long-suffeIing mother endeavored
| to wash its lace
The children are too much for me. Mr..
| BlencOwe," said Mrs koffsky, ruefully
| there's too much Beethoven in them"
She was right; there was decidedly too
| much Beethoven in them.
And yet kof1sky was very good fellow.
| He was devoted 10 his wife and children
! and would do ANYTHING for them-shurt of
! getting on in the world. That was too much
To ask Of him. The poor fellow was a born
! dupe-not a day passed that he was not
| cheated by somebody. But what genins he
| wasl He would impTOvise by the hour to-
| gether, on either violin or piano, weird
| music that made ones blood creep and
| curdle-Or at least l could imagine that the
/ blood of less proSaic person than myself
might have gone through that singular pro-
| cess. Then koffsky became changed being.
| His dark hair thrown back from his pale
| brow his wild eyes shining with curious
! light OF passion and inspiration, his whole
! frame Quvering with emotion he seemed
| no longer koffsky. AT such moments music
| claimed him entirely for her own; he forgot
! the world he lived in. ana appeared To ig-
more his nearest and dearest. ! had an ex-
| ample Of this one day when | went TO see
| the hoffskys The oldest child, an urchin
| 3 years old. with his finger in his mouth
| ana his pinafoTe in state OF dirt only TO
| be achieved 10y q hoffSky, opened the door
| and pointed mutely upstairs. | skillfully
| avoided colidiug with one child who was
! sliding down the baBiSters, by desperate
| leap managed TO clear the baby, y hich was
| crawling up the stairs. and arrived safely
in the little sitting-roOm. AT night this be-
| came the chiidTen's Sleeping-roOm, but
| during the day Mrs. koffsky sewed there,
| and always kent IL neat and tidy, in the
teeth of what difficulties heaven and
| herself could alone know. koffsky was
seated ut the piano-the one article in that
| household that had never visited the
| pawn broker s-hammerlng al tune which
he repeated over and over again with
4 every possible variation OF chord and key.
He took no notice Of ne, and when / wished
him good-day he merely rolled vacant eyes
upou me and went on with his composition.
| l addressed him once or twice with the
| same unsatisfactory result. L was III the
| middle of last effort to rouse him when
| Mrs. K0ffsky came in, fartlvely smoothing
| her hair and trying not 10 look as though
| she had just slipped into tidy gown.
IT'S no use speaking to him, Mr.. Blen-
cove" she said, nodding toward the rapt
| y.
| opera-he's mad after the opera. He's in II
now-he's not here; it's no mere use talk-
ing to him than II he were dead and
buried"
Don't you find that trife trying?"
asked.
81 do, indeed" said the poor woman
Beethoven lives for musc-not for me.
He lives in dream. IL L cook him nice
dinner he doesn't know what he's eating.
or if bis mutton's hot or cold. Beethoven is
hut hat- tnrr 10 70
for a husband. Hes worse than usual now,
for his opera is nearly finished, and he
thinks it will make his fortune"
What do you think?
She smiled sadly.
IT'S beautiful opera, and | dare say it
will make somebody's fortune - but not
BeethovenS
'Do The children inherit his talents?'
Il hope to God they do not, She said sol
EMMY. Il had rather see my children dead
and in their collins than have them must.
clans like their father. Better they should
| he dead and at peace than that they should
suffer as my poor Beethoven suffers. he
never rests, he rarely sleeps, and this dread.
full composition when he has fit of it shat.
tiers him like an Illness Does be look like
a happy maD?" she asked, pointing to the
dreamer, WHO was still torturng the key:
into unwilling haTmonies.
lie certainly did not; there were great
drops Of peTs piratiou on his forehead, and
his lips were drawn and livid.
'IIe does not know we are here" said
Mrs. Koffsky; 81 will show You how lost ht
is to everything but music" She touched
his arm and called bira gently by name Ht
looked at her with the same vacant glare he
had bestowed on me and shook his head i'm
patiently. Beethoven" she repeated, witt
Il little trembe in her voice. won't yOt
speak to me?"
This time he did not look at her; his long
thin fingers never ceased their voyage vi
and down the keys.
$50 away" ne said, Isl don't know you
l don't want you go away = you disturb
me-"
"You see?" said Mrs. Koffsky. sadly; "il