The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1895-04-27
we shall see how they will hiss you


and scorn you"
Father, dear father" she began.
mot a word, not syllable. Play"
The old mans face plainly showed
that he had reached point In his in
sanity where he would carry out his
desperate intention to its desperate end.
Guilia, after an unhappy glance about
her which no one noticed, began to
play. Her nervous fingers lost note.
mo Mistakes" came intensely from
the old man. mo mistakes on your
life"
She went on with the music, her
heart beating almost as fast as her
fingers flew.
"Play! Play" he constantly Kissed.
From tremolo to staccato, from pian-
issimo to fortissimo the music changed,
while all the time Guilia's heart was
shrinking with fear and breaking with
grief. When she came to the passage
where the clacking of the castanets
comes. when the piece Is played by an
orchestra, he whispered, close in her
ear:
Louder! No shirking now; I want
to show that your best, alone, Is not
good enough for them!'
And louder, she twanged the strings.
At last she approached the end Of the
piece, occasionally as she looked mo-
mentarily from the notes which lay be-
fore her on the table, she caught
glimpse Of that wicked, black little
hole in the bright steel circle, con-
cealed from all but her, and knew that
there was death in 1t II she disobeyed.
1t was with great relief that she began
to strike the fine full chords that termi-
nate the piece.
But her heart sank within her when
she heard, close to her ear:
again! Repeat II, and faster!
faster!
Her tired fingers started again on the
different notes.
Faster! Fasterw whispered the
voice at her ear.
Faster and faster the pick twinkled
on the staccato and shook on the
ttemolo, and faster and faster the
fingers of the other hand danced and
pattered over the strings and frets. 1t
was magnificent-the music that the
fear of death was drawing out of the
pale-faced black-haired girl. Faster
and faster. Diners stopped their eating
and paused to listen, amazed by it.
Such music had never come from
mandolin before.
GLORIOUS" whispered a girl to her
lover at one table. "See how excited
she is.'
From harmony to song; from song to
tinkle; merriment, pathos, wild abap-
don-all were in the music; none
limited at the tumult in the poor girls
heart. Not one Of those who heard,
guessed it.
But back Of the musicians, half hid
den by an angle in the wall, sat the
big blonde artist Every night since
Pizzi had ordered him away, he had
come before the music and staid until
after the musicians had gone. Tonight
he, like the Others, had been amazed by
Guilia'sp laying. At first he thought
that she was simply singing out her
sorrows on the mandolin, but a glance
at the musicians showed that some
thing was wrong. Pizzi, now with his
face flushed, was bending forward,
gazing at Guilia with an intensity
which seemed to Tom to bode mischief.
Guilia bore the paleness of death upon
her face. Tom saw the old man lean
toward her and whisper something into
her ear. A wave of color swept over
her face and her renewed effort was
evident. Some person, too delighted
by her music to wait for her to stop
before expressing his approval, Shout
ed: "Bravo! Tom saw the old man,
his dearest hope dashed to earth by