The Florence daily tribune. (Florence, Colo.) 1898-1903, 1899-02-10

forever vet never cause mortal
wound--onl an ininitude Of pain
But that of yesterday was the broad
blade that kills at one stroke
And again. az it broadeurd and
deepened and faded like moonbeaiu.
away. THAT of yesterday. lac mar
INJURED. Twas rcnunciation with its
battle. its victory, its sublime triumph.
its transient peace; today's is resigna-
tion-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 rs 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 a little
prelude. dainty and sweet in itself, bu:
the manner of its playing a veritahle
triumph in mediocrity. 1t walled ana
cried l.lboriously above the Poets head
and echoed about the window 1t BROKE
into painful suatches and indifferent
rhy Tim
The Poet sprang to his feet with ar
exclamation of impatience ITO SPOIL
lfluE WIFI tH4H3 ne 0lttfi 'tti- nov
can sher' He bit his lips wrathfully.
but he did not intend to have his dream
altogether spoiled and. his anger con
quering his WEAKNESS, he ran lightly up
the narrow stair.
He burst into the room of the stranger
without preface or prelude, and BEGAN
in n high pitched, womanish voice,
What in the world - Then he
paused, for he found she was crying A
little. middle aged woman. with
wrinkled face and funny elfin locks that
fell in "A cloud about it She was stand
ing in the middle of the room with her
music stretched ont fatty on the table
and her violin and bow in her hands
standing, the tears running thichly
down her pale cheeks. without making
any attempt to wipe them away.
The Poet felt even angrier than he
fore Women of that age had no right
to cry so openly he thought 1t went
against all his theories He was angry
too. that he had imagined her to be
young.
"What an abominable rowi' he said
savagely. "And what are you crying
about? But it is enough to make any
one cryl' He was not far from tears
himself with vexation-
She looked mp at him wistfully-she
was but a little thing-and without
any apparent surprise ut his presence
or abrupt entrance. "Ahl | should not
have played again, she sobbed. "after
after / had given it mp.
"Then / had guessed arightl" cried
IL ~ . .
ton and today resignation. But what
had you given upT What have you re
nounccdg To what are you resigned ?
IL don't understand you, she said
uncomprehendingly She laid her violin
ON the table, hanging over it as moth
er does over her child.
when you played yesterday
"But | didn't play yesterday. she
cried. II wanted to-oh, so badly. The
storm cried to me. the wind cried and
the sea cried. and heard them all |
took my violin in my hand. but could
tell nothing of what | heard. Oh. how
unhappy | wasl Then ! drew the bow
backward and forward across the
strings. but without touching them.
and imagined it all caught the sob
~ cont o,t .ha crr 81 30 a,,ls.
..And tho s,r.vr,,, tio saar, cr;aa th,,
PIT
"a, III. adv ,a ,,,,,or;n Of cha
foo,,,,
..Aa ,ha ,.., 90 III. oras
.hn5 ,hnn,,h, of hon, T ,m;,,n+ have
r,orad ia 49, sonna,h;na snmath;na
haan ,nant;na M ia 70 ca 10
80 ,,', az ,.a, =, ,Ja, as NV
Ell ,.n''Ia ,Ian bnt Gov +h;s ,hina ,,is
.i - - 80 ~ ~
CIV. 49,, g.. .,, ..,;.,a :. .h.
! Poet whispered to himself, but she did
net hear or heed him