Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1895-10-16

| play his pitiful accompaniment the
! people would not applaud; to provo to
her that it was his art, not hers, which
they admired.
Oh, how Guilia prayed, as she played
out the number, that no hand clapping
would follow its finish. T. Is doubtful
II ever before a performer was so anx-
ious not to receive recognition for her
work. She tried to play badly, bUt
when the music ended there came the
same little tumult OF spatting hands as
before. There We're probably not two
people in the room besides herself and
Pizzi who noticed that his guitar had
been silent.
! 1t was dreadful blow to the old
man. For a moment the disappoint-
ment OF her success dazed him. Then
his rage came with ten-fold the fury
which had risen against poor Tom. He
grasped her wrist with his trembling
hand SO fiercely that the pick, with
which she had been playing, fell from
her frightened fingers to the floor. and
Missed into her ear: 'Oh, unnatural
child! You have seen them and talked
with them without my knowledge so
that they would applaud your wretched
music and ignore my art. Out upon
you! You are an ungrateful daughter"
POOR Guilia. He had never spoken So
to her before. His words cut like little
knives. She could not answer.
CHAPTER IL
After that the wild look in the old
mans eyes became more frequent.
When he was not moody and silent he
was fiercely muttering to himself about
his wrongs. He had forgotten the ex-
istence of Tom, apparently. Aud there
was no doubt that he literally hated
Guilia. Once or twice day she slipped
quietly away from him and ran into
Toms studio for moment to tell him
of the new development and gain what
small comfort he could offer her. Her
father looked upon these absences with
suspicion, and once when she stayed
away few moments longer than she
intended he broke out upon her return
with a storm of angry words which
claimed that she had secretly visited
the restaurant to arrange some new
humiliation for him. That night he
stopped playing again in the midst of
a number, but Guilia, fearful, stopped,
too. He eyed her, cunningly, and took
up the accompaniment again.
Night after night, after that, he tried
this plan. At first it rather pleased
him to have her stop playing when he
did. "Ah" he would say; you have
not arranged with these dogs here to
applaud you tonight after my music has
stopped. You are afraid to play on for
fear they will express their scorn of
your poor tinkling."
mo, father" she would answer,
gently; 81 do not play, because know
that no one cares to hear me. 1t is the
full tones Of your guitar that they wish
to hear"
But she could not pacify him.
BY and by, when the wild look ha6
grown almost habitual with him, he
tired of these tactics. He was angry
when she stopped playing because he
did. He wanted her to let him enjoy
the triumph of her defeat. When she
stopped he would hiss: "Keep on! keep
on! All! you are afraid. You will not
give me the satisfaction Of proving that
I am right" But Guilia knew what
the result would be if she kept on, and
would not play. For whole week this
continued, the old man growing uglier
every night.
Finally day came when he kept her
in state of terror constantly. All day
l., -
himself. just before the time came for
them to start he wheeled toward her
suddenly and demanded, almost in a
scream:
"Will you play alone tonight"
~ cannot play without you, father
the people do not want to hear me-"
she replied.
'We shall Sec" he shouted back,
''we shall see whether my daughter
will longer disobey mel"
They walked to the restaurant in ST.
lence. Their first three numbers went
off smoothly. The fourth was La
Palerma"-an arrangementp prepared by
the old man himself, and with an i'm
mensely difficult mandolin part. They
began it as usual; then the old man
stopped. Guilia had feared this, and
she turned her eyes quickly 20 him
with an appealing glance. He had
dropped his hands until his guitar lay
across his knees, and was fumbling
with something which he kept under
the cloth of the table at which they
were sitting. She paid no attention to
this. but looked straight into his eyes.
please, please, play, father" she
entreated.
When he answered her his eyes were
red as fire and his face was as yellow
as parchment. His voice was thick
and husky whisper, so low that she
could scarcely hear. An expression of
cunning hatred and triumph played in
the wrinkles around his lips.
play? will not play. Look down.
See what l have in my hand, and you
play"
She looked down, and peepinr from
the folds of the tablecloth was the |
end of pistol barrel with its black
little bore pointed straight at her body. |
She started back in aInazement and |
e.; =