Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-09-02
THE EVENING STORY.
The Acconpanist.
Copyright, 1918, by W. Werner.

| Copyright, 1918, by W. Wernerl
| THE night has thousand eyes. The
| day but one
| The man who was singing had not a
| very good voice, but he reached the
hearts Of his listeners. All over the room
| there were little rustlings as people tried
| to keep down their emotiOn-'As ii II
were indecent to try Marie thought
They think they understand music, but
they understand only their own feelings.
For myself l should like to cry, if |
could But there's some burning thing
in my breast that won't let me.
But the light of the whole world dies
with the dying sun.
Two people appeared suddenly IN the
doorway at the farthcst side of the
ROOM Marie, glancing up from her mu-
sic, saw them. Her myers ran over the
well known accompaniment. seemingly OIL
their own volition. Certainly, she was
not thinking of them or of the music, OF
of the man who was singing, or even Oh
herself. She was thinking what PIC
ture her sister Marguerite looked with
ner pale head Oh ,,a, iene, WIN h Morl was
theirs. She could see that Norman had
his violin in his hand.
IF these stupid folk did but know
they'll soon have an opportunity 10 heal
some real music Marguerite's voice IS
Incompatible of its kind and Normans
violin ot5ligato will be of the same quail
ity. As for my playing-but nobody VIII
hear that. ! am only the accompanist,
No, her playing would pass unnOtlced,
as ever. She should be used TO that now,
after all the months that she had accom-
panied Marguerite's voice ana Norman
violin. She should be used to something
else toO-the knowledge that Marguerite
and Norman were meant to be happy to-
gether. She remembered how long ago
she had heard her father, her tired, deli.
cate, music-mad father. say: one OF
my girls will have voice, | am certain
But it is too early yet 10 tell which she
will be- There had leaped in her great
longing. childish hope. that the voice
might be hers. She had Dreamed Won
derul dreams of standing before vast au-
diences and pouring forth her soul in
song. Paris. Vienna. Berlin should teach
her: there was money enough for that
money enough to make a great voice out
Of the one available. Her father had
boarded and would stake his all on the
one high chance
And If that chance might be hers.
There came a day when they walked.
the three of them-father. Marguerite and
herself-tO the studio of a great master,
who had promised to hear the two voices
and judge of them. She had gone as on
air, and when the great master struck
the keys of the piano and nodded to her
she had sung with all the power in her.
Then had come Marguerite's turn. But
before ever Marguerite had sung ten
slaves she knew by the way the masters
face lighted that the supreme gift was
her sisters. not hers. Afterward he had
said to her. kindly: "Mediocrity-the
pretty voice-you do not wish for it? So
you will accompany your sister when she
sings to her audiences. This is better,
ach. hmmel. This is what l advise" So
Marguerite had the voice and all that
came of it, And Marie had to content
herself with being the accompanist
In the last year of Marguerites stay
abroad Norman Gail had appeared in
Marie's life. He was a violinist who set
up his studio in the city and taught the
art he himself was seeking to excel in,
because he had to have money. So it
came about that he played often, and
after that first evening, when Marie help
ed him to success. he always asked her
to accompany him. For the first time in
her life Marie felt that her work amount
ed to something more than the mere dol
lars it gathered for her. She felt eager,
inspired. Above the piano she heard his
violin singing like thing with heart,
and it seemed to sing to her. She found
something in his dark eyes which she be-
lieved nobody else found. She even dared
think of time when their souls should
find just such exquisite union as their
music had DONE And then Marguerite