Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1912-03-28

4IItF ives cad u that Same % AfIA
ana not point to hts Scandinavian
ORIGIN. He said that he bad no name
aid no country and that he had taken
the name Of Erik By accident
after lunch. he rose and gave me
the tips OF bis fingers. saying ne
would like to show me over his nat;
but snatched away my hand and
gave a cry. What ! had touched was
cold and, At the same time, bony; and
remembered that his hands smeit OF
death. oh, forgive met he moaned.
And he opened q door before me.
This Is my bedroom, II you care to
see It. II is rather curious HIS
manners, his words. his attitude gave
me confidence and / went in without
hesitation. I felt az II were enter
ing the room Of a dead person. The
walls were all hung with black, but,
instead OF the white trimmings that
usually set on that funeral upholstery,
there was an enormous stave OF music
with the notes OF the Dies Irae. ma"v
times repeated. In the middle OF the
room was a canopy, from which hung
curtains Of red brocaded stun, and
under the canopy an open CONN.
That is where / deep. said Erik.
zone has to get used to everything
in life, even to eternity The sight
upset me 30 much that turned away
my head.
"Then saw the keyboard OF an
organ which filled one whole side OF
the walls. On the desk was a music
book covered with red notes. asked
leave to look at 1t and read, Don
Juan Triumphant Yes he said, 1
compose sometimes. began that
work twenty years ago. sWhen ] have
finished, shall take 1t away with me
In that coffin and never wake up
again. You must work at 1t as sell
dom as you can l said. He replied,
4 sometimes work at it for fourteen
days and nights together, during which
I live on music only, and then i rest
for years at time viii you play
me something out Of your Don Juan
Triumphant? asked, thinking 10
please him. You must never ask me
that he said, in gloomy voice. 1
will play you Mozart, If you like,
which will only make you weep; but
my Don Juan, Christine, burns; and
yet he Is not struck by fire from
heaven. Thereupon we returned to
the drawing-room. noticed that
there was no mirror in the whole
apartment. was going to remark
upon this, but Erik had already sat
down to the piano. He said, You
see, Christine, there is some music
that is so terrible that ii consumes
all those who approach it. Fortunate
". you have not come to that music
yet, for you would lose all your pretty
coloring and nobody would know you
when you returned to Paris. Let US
sing something from the opera, Chris
tine Daae.' He spoke these last words
as though he were tiinging an insult
at me"
what did you do?"
II had no time to think about the
meaning he put into his words. We
at once began the duet in Othello and
already the catastrophe, was upon us.
I sang Desdemona with despair,
terror which / had never displayed
before AS forAshim. his voice thun-
dered forth his revengeful soul at
every note. Love, jealousy, hatred,
burst out around US in narrowing
cries. ErIk's black mask made me
think Of the natural mask of the Moor
/. OF Venice. He was Othello himself.
Suddenly, felt a need to see beneath
the mask. wanted to know the face
of the voice, and, with movement
which / was utterly unable to control.
swiftly my fingers tore away the
mask. Oh, horror, horror. horror!"
Christine stopped, at the thought OF
the vision that had scared her, while
the echoes of the night, which had
repeated the name OF Erik, now thrice
moaned the cry:
Horror! Horror! /.
Horror!"
Raoul and Christine, clasping each
other closely, raised their eyes to the
stars that shone in clear and peace
full sky Raoul said:
Strange, Christine. that this calm'
soft night should be SO full Of plaintive
sounds. One would think that 1t was
sorrowing with u.s."
when you know the secret, Raoul,
your ears, like mine, will be full OF
lamentations"
She took Raoul's protecting hands
in hers and, with long shiver, con.
tinued:
Yves, II l lived to DO hundred. !
should always hear the superhuman
cry of grief and rage which he ut
tered when the terrible sight ap-
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