Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-11-19

Lne ana TOOK my ll.llitis, exclaimlng:
! "Ah, maestro, dear maestrol May
God reward you'll You have done a
good deed. You have prevented me
from dying-that was nothing. You
give me strength to hve-that is
everything. So there is indeed some
body on earth who still knows me,
and that somebody is you. All, how
can l show my gratitude for this
delight, which is so great, so unex-
pectedw
''In very simple manner" l re-
Piled. You have but to play for
me the rest of the waltz"
'"T'he rest-the rest of the waltz
Yes. 1t is the greatest favor you
could do for me. When l have told
you why, you will see that all is not
settled between us and that / am
still your debtor"
Zimmer sat down at the piano and
played, as l had just done, the eight
bars. Then he stopped. l was all
attention. He seemed to be trying
to recall it. His face changed from
astonishment to pain. Suddenly he
clasped his brow in his hands and
exclaimed in terror: II cannot recol-
lect it, l cannot recollect It'll Good
heavens | am going crazyl Per
haps it is the eXcitement-you are
listening to me and yet this very
morning l played it. That waltz is
my life, myself-a very mournful
life. Let me go home and I will
bring the waltz to you. Twill not be
gone long"
BE still more generous, " I replied.
Come and breakfast with me to
morrow, and then you will play the
waltz to me and tell me your his
tory"
That very evening a telegram sum-
moned me to Paris. A month later
returned to Vienna. l then found
that thinner had died in the interim,
leaving parcel for me.
confess it was with emotion that
| opened the packet. 1t contained
the waltz, small ring set with sap
phires, an envelope yellowed by
time, and these lines traced by a
trembling hand:
MAEsTRo-I owe to you the sole pleasure
have enjoyed in forty years. Allow me, while
dying, to bequeath to you the three objects
which have recalled to me my past happiness.
| promised to tell you my history-here it is:
AT the age of twenty-five had been betrothod
\ -.
heart and soul. worked day and night to be-
come celebrated, that she might be proud of
me and be happy. ! believe there are still peo-
pie living who knew her. Were they asked
they assuredly would say that there never ap-
peared on earth a woman more perfect than
she was.
One evening her mother said to me, "She is
twenty years old-you may marry her."
kissed both hands OF my darling's mother.
My betrothed looked ut me in silence. There
was such happiness visible in her whole ex-
preston that | felt too much to be able to
speak. | left them TO go to Prague, in order
that might bring my father to our wedding
When | returned with him n fortnight after
ward and buoyant with happiness l brought
him to her house to meet her, q neighbor met
me at her door and said: "Do not knock so
loudly. She is dead!"
1t was true. She was dead. | entered the
house and found her old mother there weeping
young
girls who die of consumption. Deaths ad-
vances arc followed day by day, and in six
months the love of a lifetime is given them,
but my betrothed died without an hours ILL
ness, all suddenly, without any warning, with
no time for last words, with no time for fare
wells My father sobbed. He led me away,
saying: "Do not despair." He had never seen
her.
Since that day have vegetated, hopeless,
disheartened, grieving and obscured. The in
closed envelope contains her hair. Seeing
death approach have wished to burn it, but
then reasoned, IF you do not die you will
never console yourself for its loss" beseech
you To burn 1t without unsealing the envelope.
The ring | gave her on the day OF our be-
trothal. 1t cost me a hundred forins. l have
been starving for many day as gazed on it;
still it leaves me only with life. l bequeath 1t
to you that it may remain unsold. Once more
/ thank you. May God keep all those you level
| burned the envelope containing
her hair without opening it. The
ring shall not be sold l have pub
lished the waltz. Translated from
the French for Romance by Ralph
EdmundS.