Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1898-01-17
A MOONBEAM.
A Short Story But Sweet Just the
Same.


Same.
They sat in the cleaning. Spring
ing UP she ran to- the piano and struck
a Wall1ng chord. He was perplexed,
for he had never known her to act like
that before; she was usually cool self
possession personified.
''Flrau Hortense, what is the matter
with you?"
She was herself again. ooh, moth
ing! By the way do you like Beethov-
en-"
Beethoven? Oh, yes; pretty we'll"
Her hands wandered over the keys,
and long, soft tones crept from under
her fingers. 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. Offenbachs, Lee
coque's and Strauss was the kind of
music he had heard her play before,
and he had thought that such was tho
reflection of her own self; that she
knew no other. He had never dream
ed 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 foolish! Like everything
she did her rendering 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 enchanting him more thor
oughly. if that were possible, and it
was all done to CRAFTY her love of
power. It was cool calculation and
nothing more, for she had no heart
The very idea was ridiculous. She was
only dangerous siren.
Still he listened with bated breath,
and as the twilight deepened into dark
ness the spell grew more and more
powerful. Would he ever see her
again? Not likely. But-but even if
i: should happen he would never allow
any declaration of love to pass his lips;
not if his heart should burst, for if he
self she would be sure to laugh at
him, as she laughed at everything and
everybody 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 moment she had laughed
at him and had looked mockingly at
him with her beautiful gray eyes.
Greatly, are you going to leave me?
Are you sure that is no mere speech for
effect? How nice it will be for you,
won't it?
At which he had regained mastery
o1 er himself, and then they had laugh
ed together as they always did when he
called. They had never exchanged
serious word. She joked and he joked,
and by the time that he was strolling
along the boulevards in Paris she
had would have almost forgotten him,
while to him she would be only re-
mem brance-a beautiful remembrance,
as Otto Bismarck excellently says-but
still only a remembrance.
And still the room was filed with the
soft, sweet tones which welled from
the piano. 1t had grown dark. Moth
ing 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 it really she? How motionless
she sat there! What music her fingers
made! No, it was not the woman he
had known. A transformation had
taken place.
Suddenly it occurred to him that he
had been misjudging her. It was at
least possible, even if difficult to ina
CINE Supposing that her light, flip
rant 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. II
ones real self is seen, it is in danger
of being ridiculed. It might be that
she had only mirrored him. 1t might
be that she, too, had serious thoughts