The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-11-27

the crowd irritated him. Away off i'm
one corner of the foyer was q small
apartment, the entrance to Which was
partially concealed by silten portieres.
The drapery had been slightly drawn
aside and through the aperture Mr..
Warren could distinguish i'm the dim
light that reigncd within the outlines
Of bronze drinking fountain. The
place appeared to he deserted and Mr.
Warren, without stopping to consider
whether or not he was treSpassing on
pirate property, walked boldly in and
helped himself to a glass of water from
the sparkling fountain.
Some boys Just outside of the little
room were whistling Mr. Warren's tune
and he set down the glass and tried to
join them. But the water had not all
left his throat and It and the whistle
got tangled up, and instead of the
flute-likc note he had expected to emit
there was a short half-sobhing, half
strangling sound, which was not only
disappointing from an artistic point Of
view but was decidedly inconvenient
physically. He took up the glass and
was about to clear his throat with an
other swallow Of water, but just then
he felt his right arm clutched tightly
and an implOring feminine voice eX-
claimed:
ooh, sir sing it again, sing it again"
Mr.. Warren turned and looked at his
companion in amazement. She was
slight and dark, with glintings Of fire
in her black eyes and q culver of eX-
citement around her mouth.
Il beg your pardon" he said, blank
~.
Sing it again." she repeated. "Qulck,
before you lose it,
but l didn't sing anything"
"Oh, don't torment me with delay
she implCrod. It's the chord I've been
trying to find for weeks. Finish it,
| please"
Mr.. Warren was beginning tn show
signs of nervousness. II had daWned
upon him that he probably had a mad
woman to deal with and he looked
around to see if there We're any means
of cgrcss other than the door through
which he had entered. PercCiving that
thcre was no other way Of escape and
that the woman was intorrosed be-
tween him and that he adopted a con-
| CiliatOry manner.
Really. madam" he said 'I think
you must be mistaken. / assure you
! /
| ed instead
Don't tell me that" she said. "Gt
was a plaintivn, piteOus, thrObbing mi
! nor. Let me tell you all about it, then
| you will not refuse" and she pressed
| his arm still more tightly. "TwO
months ago | began an original COM
position for q recital to be given two
weeks from tonight. I called it the
| II ,.;g. Il -
| it for years, but never had l dared to
| attempt to translate it from the realm
| of fancy to that of sound. 1t seemed
| almost sacrilegc to drag forth the
beautiful child Of my imagination be-
fore a criticising, scOfiing public. But
when l was requested to contribute
something original to the recital l over
came my ecruples and commenced tC
compose my sonata.
You don't know. sir, what that
work meant to me- My heart and sou
| were in it. Every note that l wrote
seemed a part of my life. l knew il
was beautiful. | would sit down and
play over the measures l had writer
and / knew, when putting aside al
| predisposition in favor of my own com.
position. that it was an exquisite piece
of tone painting. | lived in it and il
in me. For two weeks l worked on it
had finished the first allegro and
was half way through the adagio. one
night, when | was working and haC
reached the middle of a measure, sud.
denly my hand, my brain, my very
soul seemed to stand still and-I coulG
do no more. Oh, it was terrible! Die
you ever feel that way? Did you