New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1911-06-11
DAGOBERT'S CHILDREN

have drawn them into this room, and II the
worst happens you have only 70 rush IN ana
take them unawares.
Dagobcrt nodded. He had not much
faith in the professors idealism; but ne
perceived clearly that the Prussians might
bc caught in a trap. He motloncd TO his
men. and they filed out, Struggling their
shoulders and breathing contcmptuous muir
murs.
THE professor Of music sat down on the
stool before the piano lie iclt tnat
this was the supreme moment Of his HE.
For a few seconds he listened, and ne heard
the German Commandant say, IN sad ana
pcnsiyc voice: .
81 cannot understand how an artist Of
such real power has remained IN apparent
obscuritv; for since that afternoon at the
Countess | have not heard mcn'loncd
Down came the pianist's fingers upon the
keys.
\ stir ran through the crouching French
men. In less than half minute the room
might become shamblcs.
"Softly, softly" urged the bass grow oil
Dagobert.
Not the least sound came from the room
where the Prtissans were.
at is fine toned instrument, mutlcrci
the professor. r.
The door Of the inner room opened. IL
heard the crcak Of its hinges; but he dil
not turn his head. Grishcnhcim was stand
ing in the space between the two rooms,
revolver i'm his hand: and the Others crowded
behind him, peering over his shoulder WIN
amazcmcnt in their faces.
Dagobcrt, looking through the kcynoIc o!
the outer door, could see them. Only the
cautious policy OF the waiting iranc-tlrcur
restrained him from "IEe Ia FrdnCe' and
the unlcashed rage of his painting wolyco.
The professor Of music, who saw only the
diving trees and green tinted skies and mel,
low fields Of the autumn season, who heard
nothing save the pattcrlng Of leaves, the
cracking logs Of wood fires, the calls Of MI
grating birds. leaned forward and played the
Sonata as he had played it in ccstatic dreams.
What the deuce! \ spy: Cut HIN
down. hiccupcd a tipsy voice.
stop that hidcous noise snarlcd Grsh-
cnhcim, and his blue eyes Of schooiboy
blazcd up with fury.
Then he turned his head and looked at
the PLAYER again. and that expression Of pas
sion died away as abruptly as the howl OF
the equinox wind which whirrcd through tho
piano as Marillac's fingers flew up and down.
The peasant girl, with d look Of wonder
in her pretty. stupid face held the 'russian s
hand, and She appeared to be fascinated by
Grishenheim's swiftly changing expression
and the tears that glistcned under his lashcs.
The music ended with plaintlve cries and
echoes OF cries, the "mourntul calls OF sun
ward sailing cranes.
Monsieur dc NIarillac;" said the Prussian
in a broken voice.
The professor rose and bowed.
at is a sacred Joy to listen to YOU, Mon
sieur.7
1T is an honor to play the wori: Of Herr
Felix Grishcnhcim.
you know me, then:
81 have that great happiness
what are YOU doing here
starving
THAT shall never be. ask the privilege
of shaking hands with YOU, Monsieur.
II am 4 Frenchman, Herr Commandant.
Il am not Herr Commandant to YOU. l
am Your friend.
And am franc-tireur.
And say that will kill with my own
hands anyone that hurts q hair OF Your
head.
Il am your guest, then, my MASTER
"My honored friend"