The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-01-13
4 MoONBEAM,


she was usually cool self possession per-
sonified.
''Frau Hortenso. what Is the matter
with your"
She was herself again. "oh, nothingi
BY the way, do you like Beethoven"
"Beethoyon2 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
Ho did not dare to interrupt the music,
and his bewonderment went on steadily
increasing. Otfenbach'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'll 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 clever actress
that was all-in music as in everything
else She had already enslaved him with
her beauty, her yivacity, and now shc was
using music merely for the purpose of cn-
claiming him more thoroughly, If that
were possible, and it was all done to graf
ify her love Of power. 1t was cool calcula.
ton 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 darkness the
spell grew more and more powerful.
Would he ever geo her againS Not likely.
But-but even If it should happen he
would never allow any declaration Of lovo
to pass his lips; not il his heart should
burst, for II he should SO far lose control
over himself she would DO sure to laugh at
him, as she laughed at everything and ev-
erybody serious. Ho 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 sho had laughed at him and had
locked mockingly at him with her beauti-
full gray eyes,
Really, are you going to leave mea Are
you sure that is no moro speech for effectp
How nice it will be- for you, won't itS"
himself, and then they had laughed to-
gether as they always did whom he called.
They had never exchanged serious word.
She johed and he joked, and by the time
that he was strolling along tho boulevards
in Paris she would have almost forgotten
him, while to him she would DO only TO-
membrance-a beautiful remembrance, as
Otto Bismarck excellently says-but still
only remembrance.
And still the room was filed with tho
SOFT sweet tones which welled from the
piano. 1t had grown dark. Nothing could
be seen except tho 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 therel
What music her fingers made No, it was
not tho woman he had known. A trans
formation had taken place
perhaps been misjudeing her. 1t was at
least possible, oven if difficult to imagine.
Surprising that her light, flippant gayoty
was only mask under which the real
woman was disguised! He himself had
worn mask. Like her, he seemed to be
what he was net. He had pretended to be
scoher, for modern society demands that
all real feeling and emotion be concealed
II ono's real self is seen, it is in danger Of
being ridiculed. 1t might be that she had
only mirrorod him. 1t might be that she,
too, had serious thoughts which she feared
to expose to rdlcule. Why should she
treat him, scoffcr, earnestly? And still his
heart was chilled and his lips were closed
by the fear of her scornful laugh. Her
lnughl How maddeningly mocking it was!
And a recollection flashed across his
mind. He had made her acquaintance in
the Isle of Wight during tho previous sum
MGR. Ono 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 II nature were hiding
her deepest, purost thoughts in the rich
stiffness. As usual she began joking and
soothing, Suddenly from the hilltop came
the echo of her laugh. 1t sounded sacri-
legiou3, and she shIapk back startled.
And again he wondered il he could have
bsen mistaken In his judgment of hor.
Dared he tell her what his heart promptcd2
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 tho piuHo and stood be-
fore him.
Surely you haven't been asleep. Now.
confess / really believe you were DOING"
Her voice sounded just as usual, and
that brought him to himself once more
He was quite disillusionized now. What
had he been foolishly dreamingP No, size
had not altered at ALL She was Just tho
same as ever. Her seriousness was only
one of her many moods and was entirely
superficial.
Sleeping! lwish l could have slept
myself away into nothingness"
"Woulln't you rather have dreancdT
''tio would rather sleep the ORGANIZES
sleep. I shall mover sec you again You
Know We shall not meet after tonight, and
what will ply life be without your laugh"
She did not reply, nor did she laugh.
The edge Of the thick, dark cloud was
beginning to tako silver tinge Tho
moon had risen. He had taken his hat
and as lie grasped her hand he said.
And now, goodby."
1t was bis last hope As he could not
sec her face, he trusted that her hand
might trcnlhe But no, she was US self
possessed rs ever. Once more he said very
gently, "GOodby. "
"GCodby,' she answered. Not word
more, He went, but stopped for moment
at the door and turned. At that instant a
stray moonbeam dropped over the edge of
the cloud, wandered through the window
aad rested On her fuco. Two pearl drops
were rolling down her cheeks
"Hortenaen' he cried passionately as he
sprang across the room and took her in his
arms She rested her hand On his shout
der and did net laugh, From the German
For ST. Louis Globe Democrat.