The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1899-10-25

Sfaumrur, WIN MS SpaSmOulc move
ments, or is it a dead man, who has
climbed out Of the grave, q vampire.
with the violin, who sucks, if not the
blood out Of our hearts, at all events
the money out Of our pockets?
Such questions crossed themselves in
nv head while the master cut his afro
cious compliments. But all such
thoughts had to hush when the won
derful master put his violin to his chin
and began to play.
With the first stroke Of his. bow the
scenery around and behind him was
changed. Suddenly he stood with his
music stand in a. cheerful room, deco
rated in merry disorder with twisted
furniture in the taste Of Pompadour;
everywhere small mirrors, gilded Am
orettes, Chinese porcelain, most de-
lightful chaos Of ribbons, garlands,
white gloves, false pearls, diadems Of
gilt, such as.one finds in the studio Of
prima donna. Paganinps appear
ance, too, had changed. and to the
greatest advantage. He wore short
knee breeches Of lilac satin, silver
broidered white waistcoat, coat Of
light blue velvet, with gold buttons,
and the hair, carefully dressed in little
curls, played around his face, which
was all young and rosy, and shone
with tenderness when he cast his
glances at the pretty damsel who stood
by his side while he played.
Truly, at his side saw pretty
young thing, dressed in the old style,
the white satin swelling below the
hips, the waist. charmingly tiny, the
powdered hair dressed high, the pretty
round face looking out freely with
flashing eyes, finely painted cheeks,
beauty plasters and an impertinent,
sweet little nose. In her hand she had
g. white paper roll, and the motion of
her lips, as we'll US the coquettish
swinging to and fro Of her shoulders,
made it: appear that she was singing.
But no tone was audible, and only
from the violin play with which young
Paginini accompanied the charming
child could l ascertain what she sang
and what he himself felt in his soul
during her singing. Oh, these were
melodies like those futed forth by the
nightingale in the evening dusk, when
the roses odor makes her expectant
spring heart drunken with desire! Oh,
that was q melting, sensually dying,
blessedness. These were tones that
kissed each other, then fed petulantly,
then again embraced with laughter,
became one and died in drunken unity.
Yes. the tones INDUCED in q merry
play. like butterflies when the one
teasingly avoids the other, hides be-
hind q flower, is caught at last and
then. light heartedly happy, futters up
ward in the golden sunlight.
But a spider, spider sometimes ca1
bring to such lovesick butterflies
sudden bitter fate Did the young
heart forbode such thing? A mel
ancholy signing tone, like a premoni-
tion Of a disaster stealthily approach
ing, glided softly through the most en-
trancing melodies that glowed out OF
Pagininis violin. His eyes became
moist. Adoring, he qinecls before his
Amata. Alas! AS he bends to kiss her
feet. he sees under the bed a little
priesti know not what lie had against
the Door fellow, but the Genoan be-
came pale as death. He scizes the lit
tie one with furious hands, boxes his
ears and kicks him, throws him out OF
the door, then pulls q long stiletto out
Of his pocket and thrusts it into the
breast Of the young beauty
But in this moment there sounded
"Bravo! Brayov from all sides. Ham
burg's enthusiastic men and women
gave their best applause to the great
artist who had just ended the first part
Of his concert, and who was bowling
with even more angles and contcrtions
than before. In his face, it seemed to
me, there whined humility still more
beseeching than before. In his eyes
stared q fearful terror, like that Of
poor sinner.
AS Paganini began to play anew, it
became somber before my eyes. The
tones did not transform themselves
into bright eolors and shapes. The
form Of the master rather draped itself
in gloomy shadows, from the dark
ness Of which his music walled
with most stabbing tones of lament.
Only sometimes, when a small lamp
that hung above him threw its
dim light on him, could see his
pallid face, in which, however, youth
mad not yet been extinguished. Strange
was his costume, split into two colors.
OF which the one was yellow and the
other red. On his ankles there weighed
heavy chains. Behind him there moved
face whose physiognomy hinted mer-
rily at that Of goat, and long, hairy
hands. which, rs it seemed, belonged to
the face, occasionally reached helping
" into the strings Of the violin which
Paganini was playing. Sometimes. too,
they guided the hand which held the
bow, and a bleating laugh then accom-
panied the tones that welled ever more
painfully and bleeding from the violin.
Those were tones like the song Of fall
en- angels who had rcveied with daugh-
4,,.oq m r+t, ond howed with shame