Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-02-07
A MOONBEAM.

They sat in the cleaning. Springing
up she ran to the piano and struck a vail
ing chord. He was perplexed, for he had
never known her to act like that before;
she was usually cool self possession per
sonified.
"Frau H0rtense, what is the matter
with your"
She was herself again. "Oh, nothing!
BY the way, do you like Beethoven"
Beethoven? Oh, yes; pretty well.'
Her hands wandered over the keys, and
long, soft tones crept from under her fin
gers. He was more puzzled than ever.
What could possess her to act so strangely?
He simply could not understand her. Two
minutes earlier she was the woman whom
he knew, as she had always been, merry
and full of fun, but altogether free from
whims, whereas now
He did not dare to interrupt the music,
and his bewonderment went on steadily
increasing. Offenbach's, Lecoque's and
Strauss was the kind of music he had
heard her play before, and he had thought
that such was the reflection of her own
self; that she knew no other. He had
never dreamed Of her playing Beethoven,
least Of all that magnificent, soulful adagio
movement. And how perfectly she was
rendering it! She put her heart and soul
into it. But there! To think of earth and
soul in connection with her was too fool
ish! Like everything she did her render.
Ing OF Beethoven was, he tried to persuade
himself, trickery. She was a clever actress
that was all-in music as in everything
else. She had already enslaved him with
her beauty, her vivacity, and now she was
using music merely for the purpose of en-
chaining him more thoroughly, If chat
were possible, and 1t was all done to graf
ify her love of power. 1t was cool calcula-
tion and nothing more, for she had no
heart. The very idea was ridiculous. She
was only a dangerous siren.
Still he listened with bated breath, and
as the twilight deepened into darkness the
spell grew more and more powerful.
Would he ever see her again? Not likely.
But-but even If it should happen he
would never allow any declaration of love
to pass his lips; not If his heart should
burst, for If he should SO far lose control
over himself she would be sure to laugh at
him, as she laughed at everything and ev-
cry body serious. He had come to bid her
goodby, and he had to confess to himself
that he had softened almost to the point of
declaring his love. But just at that mo-
ment she had laughed at him and had
looked mockingly at him with her beauti-
full gray eyes.
Really, are you going to leave me? Are
you sure that is no mere speech for effeotp
How nice 1t will be for you, won't it?"
At which he had regained mastery over
hiY,NCn1f- mr. %h0,, k1nr, l~J 1...-L-l L.
gether as they always did when he called.
They had never exchanged a serious word.
She joked and he joked, and by the time
that he was strolling along the boulevards
in Paris she would have almost forgotten
him, while to him she would be only a re-
membrance-a beautiful remembrance, as
Otto Bismarck excellently says-but still
only a remembrance.
And still the room was filled with the
soft, sweet tones which welled from the
piano. 1t had grown dark. Nothing could
be seen except the white keys with her
hands floating over them and the head of
the Juno in the corner.
He listened, bewitched, to the music, and
wondered why he was so moved. Was 1t |
really she? How motionless she sat there!
What music her fingers made! No, it was |
not the woman he had known. A trans
formation had taken place.
Suddenly 1t occurred to him that he had
perhaps been misjudging her. It was at
least possible, even If difficult to imagine. |
Surprising that her light, flippant gayety
was only a mask under which the real
woman was disguised! He himself had
worn a mask. Like her, he seemed to be
what he was not. He had pretended to be
a %scoffer, for modern society demands that
all real feeling and emotion be concealed.
If ones real self Is seen, it Is in danger of
being ridiculed. 1t might be that she had
only mirrored him. 1t might be that she,
too, had serious thoughts which she feared
to expose to ridicule. Why should she
treat him, a %sooffer, earnestly? And still his
heart was chilled and his lips were closed
by the fear of her scornful laugh. Her
laugh! How maddeningly hooking it was!
And a recollection flashed across his
mind. He had made her acquaintance in
isle Of Wight during the previous sum
mer. One day they were standing before
the emerald green st. Catherine. From
the summit of the hill the ruins looked
down upon them. All around was holy
quiet. 1t seemed as if nature were hiding
her deepest, purest thoughts in the rich
stiffness. As usual she began joking and
soothing. Suddenly from the hilltop came
the echo of her laugh. 1t sounded saori-
and she shrank back startled.
And again he wondered If he could have
been mistaken in his Judgment of her.
Dared he tell her what his heart promptedY
What was the truth about the woman?
The last sounds Of the adagio melted
away into silence, and the room was still.
Suddenly she left the piano and stood be-
fore him.
"Surely you haven't been asleep. Now,
confess. I really believe you were DOING"
Her voice sounded just as usual, and
that brought him to himself once more.
was quite disillusionized now. What
had he been foolishly dreamings No, she
not altered at all. She was Just the
'ame as ever. Her seriousness was only
'ne Of her many moods and was entirely
Iuperf1cial.
Sleeping! wish ! could have slept
myself away into nothingness."
"Wouldn't you rather have dreamed?'
mo, ! would rather sleep the dreamless
Ileep. ! shall never zee you again, You
know we shall not meet after tonight. and
will NV life ha r,c,,r io,,~h a.,