The Tupelo journal., 1903-04-24

ieIloueieu anu so CIV femlnlS-
cent of times and day past, had
taken a strong hold OF. ! fancy, and
| would certainly leave them with re-
greet.
Il think the old gentleman goes out
to give his lessons. sir. / see him
pass with his violin ease every day."
Harris explained, lighting the candles
placed in bronze candelabra against
the wall.
| insisted on their being used, be-
aus the light mingled pleasantly
with the gas and softened it.
Who cares for any but the old mas
ters, If once familiar with their sub
lime inspirations, ! thought, lazily en-
joying the glorious strains.
Monsieur Daubert's sonatas carried
me pleasantly back to Heidelberg
and Leipsic, and my university days,
and in the light curl of smoke, going
up from my cigar to the faded fres-
Goes of the ceiling, l seemed to see
the laughing FACE of a certain little
baroness. who certainly taught me
more and better German than the
professors did.
Bach and Handel, and those days of
youthful love and folly, and the light
hearted JOY all came back on the rip
ping notes.
1t was late when Monsieur Daubert
closed his Erard with a bang. Brush
ing away the pleasant old memories,
and getting up from my easy chair, 1
prepared to follow his example and
go to bed.
1T won't be so unendurable," l
thought, the moonlight sonata still
ringing in my ears, provided he
doesn't give music lessons"
Things never turn out as they are
expected to, which of course makes
the surprises of joy and anguish
which go to make up human exist
ence.
| unconsciously grew to wait i'm
patiently for those pleasant evening
hours of practice on the piano by my
neXt-door neighbor.
1t seemed to me when [ had lived
Cor some months in my beautiful old
rooms, from whose balcony a distant
glimpse of crowded shipping along
the river front was visible, and into
whose recesses the wind waited
scents of sweet olive and other winter
blossoms from a square nearby, as
the early spring came, and the doors
on the balcony were thrown open, +
| grew to imagine [ could read the
character of my neighbor, the mu-
stefan, in the touch on the keyboards,
and by his wonderful Interpretation
of the thoughts, heart-beats and SUBJ
lime aspirations, as expressed in the
music he drew in so mastery and pa
thetic a fashion from the instrument.
which talked and plead and wept and
dreamed strange dreams, under his
touch.
Yes, l could read it all distinctly.
There was a deep intensity of feeling,
grand aspirations, pathetic sorrow,
and a gentleness almost feminine, and
yet a bold-spirited decision in my
artist neighbor which betrayed a
character of infinite capacities and
loveableness.
Harris. take this note over and
wait for an answer. [ hope Mr.. Dau-
bert will dine with me this evening""
When he came it seemed a bur
::esque on my romantic reading of his
character, to see what an insignificant
man Mr.. Daubert really was, although
refined and remarkably ~good-looking.
There was neither strength nor
purpose in his face, but he was we'll
twed and pleasant. 1 laughed secretly
nt my absurd Interpretation of imagi-
nary characteristics because the skill
full technique of a trained musician
interpreted correctly some splendid
pages of music.
Monsieur Daubert grew flushed and
decidedly voluble, and enjoyed the
Yquem and Roederer Harris poured
all to literally in the glasses. He be-
came communicative when coffee and
liquors were placed on the table, and
Harris went out.
1T was sad to be a poor fellow,
playing nightly in an orchestra, when
formerly there had been so much
a. Lis IL va tLd vi iio
ancestor, Jean Pierre Sauveur d'Au-
bert, and there was a marquisate
coming to him by rights, in the old
Dauphine province of France.
How had it all vanished? Well
circumstances-and then after his
young wife's death-une ange de
beaute!-he had been reckless and
foolish. Yes, Monsieur Daubert hum
bly, acknowledged that he had, in his
despair, plunged into speculation and
dissipation. Was he not eXcusable?
Everything had gone but his violin
and his talent. So he went from place
to place and played in orchestra.
This winter he was in New Orleans,
but in a few weeks he would be gone.
1t was nearly eight and he must hur,
ry. The curtain would rise promptly
and the overture was by no means
perfect"
We shook hands. There would be
no music next door that evening, and
the house would be dull.
Well. / would certainly miss my
neighbor, the marquis by rights, when
he and his violin went off with the
opera troupe. With such wonderful
talent on the piano, l wondered why
he did not drop his orchestra playing
and tour the country as a great vir-
tuoso on that instrument.
l took out my papers and manu-
script and prepared for some hours
of solid work.
Hello how did Monsieur Danhert