The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1914-09-26

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sale had taken
place OF his poor effects to satisfy the
landlords demandsfor rent
All that was left was some few
sheets OF manuscript music, bed, a
chair, and some cooking utensils.
1t was the end of hope, ambition.
Of all--complete failure having met
the composers efforts.
His left hand grasped the neck of
the violin tightly, and his eyes wan
dered about the bare room.
Then. as the sky darkened, the first
breath Of summer crept in at the win
dow. A warm south breeze, so soft
as to be barely felt, but bringing with
1t the first tidings of brighter days to
| those who had felt the long winters
cold.
Unheedingly the young man lifted
the violin up to his chin, and his right
hand crossed the bow over the strings
He hesitated minute; then cast a
look at the sky and with bold sweep
Of the bow began to play.
It was waltz, throbbing with pas.
sion, full and harmonious. The sad
notes Of the bass strings In minor
key followed each other to the time,
crying sadly like a lament Of lost
soul far away.
Ever changing in melody, the waltz
carried In it the first four thrilling
notes. They crossed, repeated, re-
treated, and returned
The first breath of summer caught
these notes, carried them out of the
attic window over the smoky roofs of
Paris, held them, played with them,
sent them to the wondering ears Of
other poor people who lived In attics
and In lodgings near by. Women
stopped sewing. Children ceased play
Ing. Men dropped their forks and.
leaving their evening meal. crept on
tiptoe to the open windows and lis
tened
Suddenly the music grew louder,
more intense, and the time quickened
to madness. Then four 1ong-drawn
notes, the same as at the beginning,
rang out and-there was silence.
AS the last note was sounded the
| composer fell dead from the intense
| effort and the past months OF starya-
| ton.
The little summer breeze carried
with it his grand composition and his
soul
A man sat In an office before a. rich
| ly carved desk.
| He was q plain-looking business
| man, fat, In Il white waistcoat. Before
him on the desk lay much money.
His fat hands, sparkling with valu-
able rings, gathered Up the crisp notes
| and slipped them into rubber bands,
packing them into packets OF ten thou
sands. He then got up and carried
| these packets to a large safe set into
| the wall Of the office, placed them In
| drawers, and locked the safe, signing
when he had done, like d person does,
| having lifted heavy weight.
He then switched on the light and
| threw open the big office window, look
| ing out onto busy square filled by
hurrying people and vehicles.
He stood at the window some min
| utes. The summer breeze crept into
the office, touching his cheek with It's
4 warm caress.
It held music IN it's tmpalpable vapor
that heartrending waltz with its
deep chords and simple harmony.
The banker drew his handkerchief
from his pocket and wiped his brow,
/ his hand trembling as he did So A
chill passed over him.
He hastily closed the window and
then sank into chair. He felt I'M
nerved and weak, His eyes wandered
about the Office In troubled way.
The music had full possession OF
him. It held him In Its cruelty ire
sistible power while, standing before
the safe, he saw poorly clad figure
| holding a violin to its chin, its pale
face looking upward, Its right arm
swinging the bow.
The figure was no ghost In the bank
ers eyes. To him 1t lived.
He saw the aristocratic profile Of
the player, as clearly cut as a cameo.
The neck and profile brought vague,
| fa1-on memory to the banker.
He was young again. Very young,
at his fathers country-place. In his
mind he saw the Old trees, the lawns,
and moonlight nights OF June.
He saw Lucille, the farmers daugh-
ter, as she crept in her pretty bare,
white feet over the moonlit grass to
meet him under the shadow Of thu
oaks.
He remembered his fathers anger
the hurried departure, the long sea
voyage TO foreign lands. The RI u
and the news of LueEIe's trouble an
death.
The waltz was drawing near TIT
end
AS the last four notes filled the oIf5ce
with their magic harmony, the banke1
held his arms out toward the figure
and cried, his voice full Of longing
Speak Speak! Ny soni'
. But it was too late.