Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-09-22


to his men servants and the embracing pair
"Now l shall play the tiger motif once again!
Listen, friends, You will feel the jungle in it
now."
He clattered up the staircase and sat down
at the piano. AS his hands smote the keys
he opened his lips and sarg-Ivan Orlovsky,
whose vocal chords the eminent specialists
had declared were ruined forever, sang one
pure note-and then paused in amazement.
by the gods!" he cried. Il can sing again!
- A tigers leap tore the fog out of my
throat! Orlovskv the Great can sing Or
1ovsky can sing. Ha! Olga. It is the miracle
of YOUR icon, little one! Orlovs1lv can sing!
Even while the last of the dinner guests
were slowing themselves in their motors
they could hear voice and piano booming
out, over and over again:
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night
Orlovsky the Great could sing again, of a
truth. Had an astounded Metropolitan
management been listening on the West
chester hillside, it would have rushed in to
protest against such a prodigal waste OF
golden vocallZatlOn.
Miss Forester and young Winslow did
not go home with the Others. Young Win
slow whispered to Mrs. Trevano that Miss
r.
ing Madame Orlovsky. And Mrs. Trevano,
her faculties still too numbed to spur her
toward accented chaperoning, nodded weak
" in assent and drove off in her limousine
beside gray-faced husband.
1t is not often fitting that two men should
watch remorse twanglng harshly the heart
strings of two women whom they love. But
perhaps both the great Orlovsky and young
Winslow were all the better for seeing what
they saw before the bulky opera singer
picked up his repeating rifle and very coolly
Shot to death four other beasts in their cages
near the garage. He used but one bullet tor
each animal. Orlovsky was sure shot:
"You will forgive even this:' asked Ma
dame Orlovskv after the women had wept and
as she touched the red vale upon Miss For
rester's BOSOM at was my own heartbreak
that cut with the lash. | was born beside
tigers cage My wrists were strong with the
animal knout when Ivan saw me IN the ring.
am always homesick for my cats-as home
sick as you are when you do not see your
Irish terrier. He gave me everything asked
for He said | might have my cats OF the
forest even here, if it would make me forget
the tears. He was good to me, you see"
"Hush!' cried Miss Forester as the
Russian would have effaced his wife's reveal
ment by a clumsy laugh.
"All men are not SO, SAID Madame VI
lovskv "And he had already made me the
gift of his voice | mouned when he came
across the ocean to win new praise IN the
opera. | said he would cease to care for me;
that already he cared more for his voice, the
art, than for me, his wife. There was bot
tie on the bathroom shelf. will prove to
you. he cried And could not knock it out
of his hands soon enough. That scar above
the beard was left-and there was no more
singing in the throat. had dared him, you
see, Friend Natica.'
. "Oh, say!" murmured young Winslow.
"By George! that was too bad, too bad!'
"But we sing again now, Olga!" shouted
the basso, swinging his wife upon his bulky
shoulder, where she perched her hands in
tertwined in his shaggy hair. 1t reminded
Miss Forester of the painting of an Os-
trogoth with captured, half complacent
bride. 1--WE sing! Ha! There is no more
fog in the throat! But we do not sing here,
We GO back to St. Petersburg! America is
not the place for us, little one If you wish
you shall have your cats of the forest with
you always
"No Kill them Ivan-now!" COM
manded Madame Orlovsky, bending down
to kiss her husband. Il shall not touch the
knout again.