New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1904-01-31
The Trar7p's Love Story.
BY HAROLD OHLSON.

Tramp he was-he would have told you 80
hmself-but no broken down. dirty outcast from
society His sunburnt face was clean as soit
river water could make 1t; his clothes were oiu'
but with a decent gray age. free from all talht
Of frowsiness II you had asked him how he
lived he would have answered you. AS Il
king. eating and drinking my fill. and with sub
iects that come and pay me tribute as l bid
them. And here" he would add. holding up
bag of faded cloth that hung from his shoulder.
here is my magic"
So. indeed, ii was-an old violin. slumbering.
but ready TO wake and sing and steal all hearts
at the bidding OF its master
And if you had asked him II he were happy.
he would have told you In summer time. hap
py as the day IS long. 1 wander through the
villages, playing in the market places and they
look for my coming and regret my going But
in the winter-no Last year. when it was so
cold l played every evening In a room in the
West End Of ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS where boys
and -pah!-drank and smoked and my
nose was filed with cheap scents and the fumes
OF beer and wine. and the tobacco smoke stung
ny eyes. and-ah! do you smell the hay?'
And then he would be laughing again. and
Say:
But man must live: Oh. yes. he must live
through the winter so that he may enjoy the
summer again Only. If l had been a dormouse.
or a hedgehog. to sleep 1t was unkInd not to
make a hedgehog"
And what is your name?"
At that he would have bowed deliberately. and
introduced himself as "Signor Contradinl." then
Whispcred. laughing:
But my fathers Robinson. II l
had been Robinson. too. I should have sat on
q stool and then perhaps in leather chair.
driving hard bargains and filling my pockets
with money But II am Signor Contradini.
b.N- bllf my |
appointment. a good-for nothing whose name
is never mentioned by his family. But
cay l Will arise and go to my father, not TO
s-y 4 have sinned.' because I haven't-not
lit Of it-but to play to him. Oh. yes. l Will
lay to him. and We shall see Ny little friend
Lese"-and he would hold the old brown violin
Iovingly-"shall unlock the gate of Paradise for
re. That a gypsy's prophecy; played to
the Komany folk hour for it Only 1 can't
make up my mind if the place where my father
liz is Paradise-not yet
And when will you make up your mlnd?-
when l meet woman love and want
her for q wife Then Signor Contradlni viii
die. and l shall be-oh. respectable!-R
SON"
1t happened. a bright summer morning.
that Contradini. in his wanderings. came to the
gate Of great mansion. Now OF all things In
the world. save his fiddle and old trees Contra
bent on feast for his eyes. This he found in
4 few PAGES. not furnished by stone and timber
but by flesh and blood. and sweet with youth
IS the other mellow with age
Terraced lawns bright with flowers sIoped
down from the house: on the lowest a girl was
feeding some peacocks- Contradini stopped the
house forgotten In greater contentment Hid
den among the trees that bordered the drive
lie watched her for several minutes and then
forgeful 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 under his chin and
the bow nicely poised. he was tapped smartly
on the shoulder. and. turning. found himself
facing tall man Of middle age and knew him
to be angry.
What are you doing here7 Be Off with your'
He was no servant: II was the Lord of the
manor himself Contradini. who dislked a
"ordy warfare profoundly and recognized the
right of a gentleman to turn any one off his own
estate-even another genueman-tucked his fid-
die under his arm. quietly begged the angry
Squire's pardon, and without receiving IN
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 Contradini