The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1902-02-13
THE CELLIST'S NOTE.
BY JOHN II. HAFTERY.

Hotel Cecil Sometimes when 30 directed.
he played solo-"Traumerei," or Ave
Maria or some serenade-whatever the
leader might select as suitable for the chang
ing temper Of the crowd. Herr Weyricn,
the cellist did not bother his head about
these cafe audiences. He was not flattered
by occasional applause nor depressed when
his performance was ignored. He knew that
cafe audiences generally approved of moth
ing till their bellies were full, and thereafter
app!auded everything; therefore he despised
their opinions and played his cello as he was
bid, with no other inspiration than the
| three dollars which each performance yield
ed to him.
At home in his attic studio, with no chat
tering, drinking, munchng mob around
him, his beloved cello became the singing
voice of his spirit, grooming the wordless
anthems Of his hopes and fears and calling
| back the memories of his youth and pas
sions
For Herr Weyrich was no longer young.
The brown curls about his ears were turn
ing white, and he no longer cared to sit
where he could watch the women listening
to his cello. With the younger men of the
orchestra it was quite different. They
were yet glad to play at the pretty guests
Il
them.
With these young fellows "a request"
| from the udience was still an event, and
| scrbbled note asking for the repetition of
a solo caused the honored performer no
slight qualification. An occasional bou-
quet, followed by demure and furtive
glances exchanged across the balcony rail
! ing, had already made the handsome young
oh e TO = ba
net and to the flute Only the cellist rose
superior to these frivolities, and though
many encores bore evidence of his popu-
| larty, he had never deigned to inquire'by
word or look whence came the demand
! for more of his music And so the young
men of the orchestra yielded to him a meas
ure OF respect which lost nothing in the half
| familiar, half reverent epithet Papa" with
which they referred to him.
1t was near midnight of All Halloween.
| Papa Weyrich had played "Traumerei"
neither better nor worse than he had played
| it hundreds of times before The applause
rad merged into the usual buzz of voices
md the cIatter of silver and china. A
waiter came up to the little balcony, and
| thrusting his head between palms, said;
"A note for the cello player.
Papa Weyrich gingerly took the extend
| ed card, while every eye in the orchestra
| oulged with establishment. a note for Papa
| Neyrich! He held it at arms length, as if
| 'eadlng, while he passed it on to the leader.
| Then his smooth. honest face went white
| and red by turns. His hand trembed, his
| DOW fell on the floor, his eyes stared at the
| writing.
| whats wrong, Weyrich?" asked the
| eader, coming over to him.
| Nothing at all, lied the cellist; "some-
| body wants me to play 'Traum der Sen
| lern.' Shall II"
He was plainly excited, and the other mu-
,icians were wondering, open-moutaed.
we haven't the music" said the leader,
well knowing Papa's hatred for encores
Il can play it. ! will play it," said the
ellist.
| Astonishment was on every face that
watched him as Weyrich picked up his bow
md swept into the weird, fantastic melody
| With power and rapt expression they had
| never heard from him before. His fine eyes
| wandered over the faces of the audience till
1t last they paused, distended, a. he looked
nto the face of woman. Blue-eyed, vel
| .ow-hared, smiling, beautiful, she was ono
| Of those women about whose age men sci
| iom stop to guess. Near her sat another.
lot less comely, but overShadowed by the
| splendid radiance OF her companion.
As the musicians were locking up their in
struments the first young vioIinist found a
card on the floor, and read;
Play the piece you played FOR me- that
last night at Potsdam. CARLOTTA."
He thrust the scrawl into his pocket and
is was his custom, hurried after Papa Wey-
'ich As the cellist reached the aisle the
blonde goddess came hallway to meet him
She put both hands in his, fixed him with
ler luminous eyes, and leading him to a
chair, sat near him.
$50, Emil, you have not forgotten Pots
dam" she was SAYING watching some old
familiar fire come back into his eyes.
Its not Potsdam, it's not the music it
is you must remember always" he said.
And the young violinist waiting apart mar
veled at Papa's sudden air of buoyant gal
lantry
mo, no. Emil" she laughed; this is no
place for gallantries Besides. you know,
we are no longer boy and girl. Indeed al
most forgot that in my JOY at seeing you aft
er all these years. ! knew you the moment
| heard 'Traumerei and saw those curlS of
yours. Really, Emil, you're as handsome
as ever
you seem more beautiful Carlotta"
"Now I'll punish you" she whispered,
playfully tapping his hand as she turned to
the younger woman, who, with their two
men companions, sat chatting at nearby
able.
Come here, Irene" she called. And then
to the cellist:
Mr. Weyrich, this is my daughter Irene!'
The musician WINGED, turned pale and
stammered:
impossible - that is-er-pardon me.
miss your mother seems too young to call
so mature child her daughter"
The daughter hardly suppressed sneer
at his blunt gallantry. She did not under
stand or care about the gray palor of
his face as he regarded her. But the moth
er saw and understood and enjoyed his CON
fusion.
"And now-auf wieder sehn," she was
laughing, But he stopped her with queer
gesture, calling the young violinist, who yet
waited across the aisle.
Before we separate, ladies, let me pres
ent my son, Carl Weyrich."
And the triumph faded from the elder
woman's bold blue eyes as she watched