Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1895-12-04
A SONG IN PASSING.

tlce nOur the piano was out OF tune' thc
accompanist had played abominably.
and he half suspected that he had him
self made false note. Whereupon he
had called the luckless Celestino by
some very hard Italian names. and
seizing his hat and coat had started oui
for q walk In the avenue to relieve his
rufled feelings.
As he walked along briskly in the
clear. cold. winter air. noting how peo-
pie paused to look at him. nudging one
another as the famous singer passed.
his spirits slowly rose. He was very
handsome, was II Tenore, and the Ia
dies were always wont to eye him ad-
mirlngly. even when they did not know
that his broad chest could send forth
one of the finest voices In the world.
II Signore was forgetting all about
the opera which was to come that night,
forgetting the unpleasantness Of the
afternoon, his hatred Of the rObustiOus
basso and his Jealousy Of the new sec
ond tenor. He was forgetting Verdi
and Meyerbeer and Gounod and con-
tenting himself with the beautiful
weather and the comfortable feeling Of
being alive and strong and well and
good to look upon. Now he need be n"
languishing troubadOur, no ill-starred
Huguenot, nor even a bereaved lover,
but just an ordinary man like all the
others-only handsomer.
IL Tenore was smiling softly to him
self at the wide-eyed looks of admira-
ton in the faces Of two pretty school
girls who had just passed him. when
| an unwelcome sound struck upon his
| sensitive ear. The smile faded from
his lips and a frown wrinkled the com.
placent forehead as his eye caught
sight Of the obnoxious travelling piano
and the quaint little figure which was
making the music 60"
| II Signore strode angrily to the curb
stone.
"Bastaw he cried in fierce italian to
bis humble little compatriot. why do
you shrek at me that horrible tune
Why do you sound 1t to me-to me. II
enough? Do l not work over 1t night
and day, and must always hear when
/ would forget for q moment7 All
must 1 not sing 1t tonight. that note
which drives me crazyf COrpo ii Bav-
co! 1t IS maddeningv'
The poor Italian maid had begun to
cry at the first angry tones Of the grand
gentleman who had spoken the only
words that she had understood since
morning. But such unkind words!
Il did not know, signore," she be.
gan.
"Bahl You did not knowi Well
take yourself of. 1 will give you this
not to sound that tune to me again,
and he thrust a round dollar toward the
girl, who was drying her eyes on bel
green silk apron.
But the little maid did not reach for
ward to take the money. as he had ex
pected.
"Oh, signore! she cried. eagerly. 81
, played 1t this time rs l always play 4
oftenest, because love 1t so. oh. sig
musicY" and an expression Of wondel
came into her soft brown eyes as sh,
raised them admiringly to the tenor
handsome face.
"You love the music? My little aria
he cried. half pleased. half scornfully
"Well, my child. and why do you low
It 30 well that you play It always o1
your horrible instrument, 80 that
must hear 1t as go by7 Bahv'
"Oh, signore. 1t Is so beautiful, n
tender, SO full Of the great feeling.
love the master who wrote 1t so well
and-I feel that 1 could love the on
who sang 1t, too. II he sang 1t a. tn
great master meant oh, I feel how h.
could do it,! and the little brown hand
clasped themselves eagerly together o.
the blue silk handkerchief.
$50 you know how l should sing Il
do your Well. my child, you shall com
and hear me. and hope, little one. tina
my singing will please you as the grea
masters would have DONE" and Le
grande Tenore hastily wrote . fev
wo-ds on a card and handed 1t to t1h
still wonder-eyed girl i.
"Oh. signore. a thousand thanks" th
girl began to say fervently. But th
handsome gentleman had already gone
and Bettina, looked after his departin
figure. then glanced down at the bit o
/
quick sigh of wondering delight COul
1t really be true. and was she going t
hear the grand gentleman with IN
dark, shining eyes and the lovely lon
mustache sing her song-her beautifu
song?
Bettina crept between the shafts O
the piano and dragged her heavy lns,rr
ment to the next block. Her days wOr
!. was not ended yet. and many wear
hours must pass before that woul
come to pass for which her soul wa
longing. But all that afternoon tn
tired little feet trudsed manfully owe
! the cobble-stones and the round. wear
i arms turned the heavy crank with ne'
zest and dragged the heavy mach1n
with a back aching less than usua
. For. tucked into her bodice. close owe
her eager little heart, she felt mag'
ta,ismain against weariness and III
kindness and disappointment But sh
played her favorite tune no more tha
day.
Bettina's father was a paper fiowe
, maker. He had been lamed by a hors
| one day when he was dragging a pan
/, | ner, auu siuCe tucn iek uo'
aever s.raightened out So Bettina ha
! % drag the piano and make the musi
llone. And hard work 1t was for a gin
II Id. But he had made the ding
.oom where he worked to blossom wit
lowers Of the most intricate design
tnown to botany-fowers such as d
,ot grow in the cold America, no
blossom in any but the most tropie
slimes; flowers Of such varied hue q
,nly IN Italian imasinstiop eQ1ld recs.