The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1904-03-06
The Wandering Musician.

= RAMP he was-he would have told
you so himself-but no broken
down outcast from society. His
sunburnt face was clean as soft water
could make it; his clothes were old,
but with q decent, gray age, free from
all faint Of frOwslness. If you had
asked him how he lived he would have
answered you: "As king, eating and
drinking my fill, and with subjects that
come and pay me tribute as 1 bid them.
And here" he would add, holding up q
bag of faded cloth that hung from his
shoulder. here is my magic"
SO. indeed, 1t was, an old violin,
Slumbering. but ready to wake and sing
and steal hearts at the bidding of its
master.
And If you had asked him if he were
happy he would have told you: in
summertime, happy as the day is long.
I wander through the villages. playing
in the market places, and they look for
my coming and regret my going. A
man must live-oh. yes, he must live
through the winter so that he may en-
joy the summer again"
At that he would have bowed elab-
orately and introduced himself as Sig
nor Contradini, then whispered, laugh
ing: But my fathers name was Rob
inson. If l had been Robinson, too. 1
should have sat on a stool and then,
perhaps, in a leather chair, driving
hard bargains and filing my pockets
with money. But II am Signor Con-
tradini and I have nothing but my nd
die / am a disappointment, good
for-nothing, whose name is never mem
TONED by his family. But one day L
will arise and go to my father, not
70 say, 4 have sinned, because L haven {
NOT a bit of it-but TO play TO him.
Oh. yes, 1 will play to him and we shall
see. NV little friend here"-and he
would hold the old brown violin loving
Iy-"shaIl unlock the gate Of paradise
Tor me. That was a gypsy's prophecy;
I played TO the ROmany folk an hour
for it,"
1t happened on a bright summer
morning that Contradini in his wander
inrs came TO the gate Of great man
sion. Now, of all things in the world,
save his fiddle and old trees, Contra
DIM loved old houses; so he passed IN
boldly.
Terraced lawns. bright with flowers,
STONED down from the house; on the
lowest a girl was feeding some pea
cocks. Contradini stopped, the house
forgotten in a greater cOntentment,
Hidden among the trees that Dordered
the drive. he watched her for several
minutes and then. forgetful that there
would be guardians of such beauty the
foolish fellow must needs want to play
to her. But that he did not. for
standing with the old violin tucked UNI
der his chin and the bow nicely poised.
he was tapped smartly on the shoul-
der. and, turning, found himself facing
a tall man of middle age and knew him
to be angry.
What are you doing here? BE off
with you,
He was no servant: it was. the lord
OF the manor himself. Contradini tucked
his fiddle under his arm. quietly begged
the angry squire's pardon and walked
back to the gate, while the disturber
of his peace was content to watch him
pass out and tramp away along the
dusty road,
DRIVEN out Of paradise" unused Con-
tradini. But I'll unlock the gate yet"
And all that afternoon, solitary in a
wood. he played his viOlin-not the gay
melodies with which he delighted the
countryfolk. but the music Of the great
masters. Sir Charles and his daugh-
ter having dined were seated on the
stone terrace that ran along the front
of the old house. They had been silent
OF the summer evening, a sound star
tied them
Who was il but COntradini, snug be-
hind a bush on the far side of the
lawn? If the gate Of paradise would
not oDen-welL as long as a man had
legs he could climb over. And play he
would. despite the angry gentleman
Sir Charles would have sought out
the trespasser, but his daughter begged
him to stay. 4 servant who appeared
below was ordered back. and Contra
DIM. undisturbed. went on with his
playing.
Perhaps the mystery Of the unseen
musician. the quiet OF the summer
evening and the moonlight getting into
Contradinis flngers-perhaps these
gave the music grace. Certain il is
that he earned the right to stay awhile
in his paradise. casting a spell on ali
who heard him. Very fun and sweet
and low came the music, as a lover
whispering. COntradini behind the
bush. the old brown fiddle tucked under
his chin. played on. forgetful of all
the world-eXcept the girl he had seen
feeding peacocks that morning. In
short. the foolish fellow was in love.
and so played as never he had played
before.
Al last he stopped and, returning the