The Bellefontaine Republican. [volume] (Bellefontaine, Logan County, Ohio) 1855-1905, 1899-08-01

t0at might turn AMI twist in ones flesh
forever, yet never cause mortal
wound-only an infinitude of pain.
But that of yesterday was the broad
blade that kills at one stroke.
And again, as it broadened and
Geepened and faded, like moonbeam,
away "That of yesterday" he muir
INJURED, twas renunciation; with its
battle its victory, its sublime triumph,
its transient peace; today's is resigna-
hon-a submittance which has naught
Of battle, of victory, of triumph, but
only pain. Today's is the end, an end
that has no end. -
But as he lay there, hands clasped be-
hind his tired head, lips parted in
smile-a smile unlike his, for it had
naught of scorn in it-there broke upon
the silence the opening bars of little
prelude, dainty and sweet in itself, but
the manner of its playing veritable
triumph in mediocrity. 1t walled and
cried laboriously above the Poets head
and echoed about the window. 1t broke
into painful snatches and indifferent
rhythm.
The Poet sprang to his feet with an
exclamation of impatience. ITO spoil
that with thisl" he cried "Oh, how
can sher' He bit his lips wrathfully,
but he did not intend to have his dream
altogether spoiled and his anger con-
quering his weariness, he ran lightly up
the narrow stair.
| He burst into the room of the stranger
without preface or prelude, and began
in high pitched, womanish voice,
"What in the world''- Then he
paused, for he found she was crying. A
little, middle aged woman, with a
wrinkled face and funny elfin locks that
fell in cloud about it. She was stand
ing in the middle of the room with hel
music stretched out fatty on the table
and her violin and bow in her hands
standing, the tears running thickly
down her pale cheeks, without making
any attempt to wipe them away.
The Poet felt even angrier than be
fore. Women of that age had no right
to cry SO openly, he thought. 1t wen
against all his theories. He was angry
too, that he had imagined her to b.
young.
"What an abominable rowl' he saii
savagely. "And what are you crying
about2 But it is enough to make an.
one cryr' He was not far from tear
himself with vexation.
| She looked up at him wistfully-sh
was but little thing-and withou
any apparent surprise at his presenc
or abrupt entrance ''Ah should no
have played again" she sobbed, "afte
after I had given it up
''Then had guessed arightl" erie
the Poet yesterday it was renuncia
tion and today resignation. But wha
had you given up2 What have you re
nou2ced2 To what are you resigned p
81 don't understand you, she sal
uncomprehendingly. She laid her violi
on the table, hanging over it as a moth
er does over her child.
"When you played yesterday
"But I didn't play yesterday" sh
cried. 81 wanted to-oh, SO badly. Th
storm cried to me, the wind cried an
the sea cried, and heard them all
took my violin in my hand, but coul
tell nothing of what heard. Oh, no,
unhappy was Then 1 drew the boy
backward and forward across tn
strings, but without touching then
and imagined it all. l caught the sol
bing of the sea god ON the end of m
bow. 1 sent out the cry of the gulls'
''And the spray of the seal" cried th
Poet
'sAnd the eddy and gathering of th
foam
''And the mutter of the waves. F"
''And thought of how l might hav
played had not something-somethin
been wanting. Oh, cried to God
give me the power to play as-as m
soul could play but for this thing-th
me that cannot.
''The cry for the unattainable, tt
Poet whispered to himself, but she di
not hear or heed him.
81 made resolution. She dried hi
, tears briefly at the recollection of i
"God would not give me my desire, {
, 1 gave up my semblance of it, for
wanted to keep my ideal Then, when
had quite made up my mind, how
: could have played thenl But it woul
not come.
''The triumph, said the Poet. E
; smiled imperceptibly to himself.
. "But today it was all so dreary.
was all over, and there was nothir
3 left. And after had thought how
was all over and my last note played
thought would again say goodby
I my fiddle. And l fetched it out al
; played goodby, but without making
sound And felt not bit sorry, b
only strange feeling here" She p
: her hand ON her heart $50 played
real little bit to see if it would take
away"
He did not speak. His dream h;
come back to him, and his thought
like white clouds, foated far, far ava
Black and White.