davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

for Cabosso' What is your training Who coached you2'
 "Spreglia, Lamperti--'
 But who coached you in Canio?" Though his interruption was harsh, Merwin could see a light of interest in his eyes.
 De Retsky-Jean himself, coached
 Make up-quickly," the director de- cided sharply.
 He heard nothing of the stage man, agers instructions, was uumbly con scious of getting into the costume of the pantaloou heard nothing of the directors instructions as. in a cold precipitation he waited for the bari tone to finish with the prologue.
 Fear was upon him, cold dank fear. Could he have run from the place. could he have put a finish to every ambition he had pressed so closely to his very soul could he have thrust it all aside at that moment, he would have done so rather than suffer the fiery heat alternating with icy cold that seized his body, be tor
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

curtain as it slowly descended upon a wild eyed, sobbing tenor. who glared piteously at the back of a laughing woman in the box at the head of the diamond horseshoe.
 With the ready effervescent sym pathy of the Romance people the di- rector pillowed the head of his great find upon his shoulder But over that head his eyes sought those of Doctor Holbrook. the worlds renowned throat specialist, who had been treat ing Merwin now for months And a hard expression. a look of flint was in the directors eyes as the specialist shook his head to indicate the death of another voice.
 "It is the fault of the atmosphere the early training coolly declared the impresario later that evening to the reporters "Now. Merwin, with the proper. early training would have proved the greatest tenor of our time" He shrugged a bit contemp- tously. You call it here, l believe, 8 flash in the pan
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23
VII

Niis
 Merwin felt a curious elation upon him. a sudden lightness of heart. one of those miraculous sensations of ut ter delight that come at the most un- expected moments when one is per forming ones work little better than ever it has been performed before.
 Arrogant with the delightful arro- gance of the artist who has worked hard for achievement his eyes sought those of Olga Drake in her box at the head of the diamond horseshoe. That very day Ann had been granted her interlocutory decree of divorce; that very day a sensational newspaper had whispered the name of Miss Drake in connection with it. that very day he had bOasted to her that he would now, in the first performance of the widely heralded new opera, he was singing as he had never sung before
 Clear, ringing, sweet toned as any bell, holding the audience spellbound, with eyes aglow the voice of Merwin rang out And then the song died in mid-air, seemed to halt upon it's course. The singers hand clutchcd at his throat, clutched desperately there as though by sheer brute strength he would force out the sounds that the vocal chords refused to give His lips opened and closed, closed and opened. A mute he stood there, a ludicrous mute, saving the air with his hands. desperately wild ly-
 A laugh hurtled from the gallery. the laugh that was sufficient to guide the mob. It grew in volume, grew 80 that it's sound penetrated the heavy
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

fore, the woman who had seemed SO desirous of being with him alone. de- spite the gallants besieging her. And Olga Drake, mistress of wealth and beauty. was not less famous as a so- cial dictator that he was as a singer.
 In the carriage he could not drive that contrast from his preoccupied mind He felt himself already a bit irritated at the insisteuce of Ann that the tiny cottage, the humble little home in Los Angeles should not be sold, that not stick of the furniture be changed.
 He flushed hoUy as she stumbled upon her train as they made their entrance at the Van Rolphes'. angry with himself for the impulse which made him seek out the eyes of Olga Drake 10 find whether she had noticed the slip, more angry to know that he had smiled with her at his wifes mis. hap. Ann was his wife. the woman he loved, and no one had the right to smile at her.
 iit tut tItu Ab dl q Htit dSSiNlllE iltT to their hostess, bracing his shoulders against the gibes he knew her man, ner occasioned. with smile upon his lips. And then the guilty feeling came upon him that he was feeling the martyr that he was taking pride in his attitude of suffering
 In the modification of the moment he found himself offering his arm to Olga Drake, passing his wife without a glance
 I'm afraid we frightened your poor wife, Miss Drake murmured in his ear.
 He looked furtively at Olga Drake at the note of sympathy in her voice. And yet he merely smiled and sought out his wife with his eyes, dropping them more swiftly as they met the mute appeal in Ann's own eyes He was conscious of chattering volubly about nothing in particular, was aware that his face was burning.
 A farmers daughter he had mar ried. A milkmans wife he had made her. And, equally indifferent to aught she was one still
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23


 He paced the library floor nervous ly. every nerve in his body dangling discOrdantly at the chatter of his wife in the next room. the confusion of her undignified romping with the baby. Only the night before he had given wretched performance, his voice turning hoarse. Only the night be- fore he had tiffed with Olga Drake, for the first time in all the months during which their intimacy mad grown to such an extent, that there were whispers about it.
 First, he had tried to break away from the spell she cast upon him. But his work threw him with her set and his wife used every subterfuge to avoid accompanying him to any affair which might aid him in the social world, always pleading to be allowed to re- main with the baby.
 And now she was late. He looked at his watch nervously then whirled to the stairs and tapped upon her door
 'I forgot again, Henry" she replied, before he had a chance to say a word. Please forgive me but-but l don't t think help you with these people" You make no effort to improve your self. You are constantly doing every thing you can to annoy me You are running my voice, clouding my whole career
 And you don't try to do better. You don't care for anything but the vile little hole in Los Angeles You want me to be ruined. You want me to lose my voice. You know you do you want a milkman because you are nothing and never will be anything but fit for a milkman's wife"
 But what can do. Henry? What do you want me to do?"
 "Do?' He laughed. laughed in her face. Why, get divorce, of course I'm through. Get it before I'm com pletely ruined. I'll give you the di- vorce-thereU be no trouble about that-and fifty thousand dollars"
 She regarded him steadily, search ingly.
 No, therell be no trouble-about that" she repeated after him, as he slammed the door. No trouble, Henry"
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23
~ ~ " '' esT cy4 ibf & A Moving Picture Rights and all Fora

forgotten him-you see he was nothing called that evening and the scene" He shrugged apologetically, sheepish- ly. Well. l knew that it was Fate l offered to cultivate his voice and take my pay in the future, when it had proved itself"
 And you wish me to listen when he comes?"
 He is waiting now" De Retsky smiled as he consulted his watch He is always early for his lesson unwil- ling to lose a moment of the time" He nodded to the maid, who ushered into the room a blushing. roughly-clad young man. who flushed hotly as he returned the friendly pressure of the great vocalists hand, then turned nat urally to the piano as she expressed the desire to hear his voice
 Her critical sense was swept away even as De Retskys had been before her, and the judgment of the artist upon tyro gave place to unmixed de- light as Merwin lavishly poured forth his song.
 She sighed as De Retsky turned upon her, smiling delightedly at the obvious impression his pupil had made
 You were right, De Retsky, right" !" she murmured. "It is @ voice that belongs to the world, a voice that does not belong to you any longer You are the singer, old friend. more than the great teacher of voice pro- duction. The is The Voice It belongs to Spreglia of Paris, Lamperti in Der lin, old Vanuncchini of Florence. Syn ney Dalton. here in the United States in New York, shall have it finally. And he will coach, will make the opera singer out of the man with The Voice Oh, shall attend to all that. l must have my share in this discovery, De Retsky."
 She turned to where the singer had been and De Retsky frowned as he saw his protege had slipped away under cover of the great yocalists enthusi- asm. He looked at her uneasily for some slgn or irritation, but smile lurked about the corners of her mouth
 The little country girl who was feeding the turkeys" she said softly, a curious glitter in her eyes as though a vagrant tear had somehow found a resting place there "Ah, well, it will make her happy, De RetJky. And hap piness should be crowded upon her now"
 The two who had eaten of the fruit avoided meeting her eyes, as if in fear
 And their fear seemed by some odd freak to have transferred itself to a tiny cottage in the outskirts of the city, where a little woman bent her head lower over her knitting while her husband joyously, eagerly told for the twentieth time of his experience.
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

Strange the quips and whimsies of

Strange the quips and whimsies of Chance, elusive Chance
 Years that seemed interminable. years of goading desperation dis couragement, self-sacrifice, endurance stretched behind Henry Merwin as he halted a moment at the stage door of the New York Grand Opera house to allow one of the stars to enter. A bitter smile curved his lips, lips that had frightened since the days when the milk route alone oppressed his mind, as he slowly made-up in the male dressing room for a peasant in the opening act of "Pagliacci" He was a chorus man-only a chorus man
 From below he could hear the strains of 'Cavalleria Rusticana" which preceded "Paglacci" and the voice of Cabosso. greatest of all ten ors. Cabosso. who stood where the ignorant young milkman had dreamed of standing; Cabosso the announce ment of whose singing was sufficient to pack the great house.
 The soul of the artist within him struggled impotently at his situation, the difference between the dream aqd the reality. Cabosso singing Canio, the bitter, disillusioned pantaloon. when everything that life could hold was his: and he. Henry Merwin, with a voice no less than that of the star, sang among the peasants. UnCOn- sciOusly he threw himself into the role of the man, compelled to amuse the public with his antics, compelled to don grease paint when he wished to smear his face with the blood of rival and unfaithful wife. His lips opened and the tenor aria at the close of the first act poured from his throat
 He stopped abruptly as a hand fell upon his shoulder, biting his lips in mute embarrassment as he looked up into the eyes of the stage manager. It dawned upon him that he was trans gressing the rules of the house in singing, that in all likelihood he would be discharged. And suddenly he was seized with a vast, overwhelm- ing desire to hold this position that a moment before had reused all his re- sentiment
 Are you up on the role on Canio?" The words were crisp. brit tie, mandatory.
 For a moment he did not under stand. then a quick flush mantled his cheeks at what he took for sarcasm. A hot answer was on the tip of his tongue. checked only in time as he read upon the faces about him that the man was really in earnest. He rose swiftly, his hand gripping at the lapel of the stage managers coat even as the man fairly dragged him down the narrow, iron stairway toward the director, who ragged about in the wings, his face the picture of misery.
 He laughed ironically as his under ling whispered to him, sizing the ehorus-mau up and down.
 "Caniol" he laughed Substitute
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23
Another Woman who has Found Health in Lydia F. Pinkham's
 Vegetable COmpOunds

Lindsborg, Kansas. TT Some years ago suffered with terrible pains in my side which thought were inflammation, also with a bearing down pain, back ache. and l was at times awfully ner- vous took three bottles of Lydia F. Pinkham's g Vegetable Compound and am now enjoying good health. 1 will be glad to recommend your medicine to any woman suffering with female trou- bIe and you may publish this letter
 Mrs. A. l.. SMTu R. No 3, Box 60, Lindsborg, Kansas.
 If you have the slightest doubt that Lydia E. PinI<ham's Vegeta- ble Compound will helpyOu,write to Lydia E.PinlIham MedicineCO. (c0nlidentiaD Lynn, Mass, for ad- vice. Your letter will he opened, read and answered by woman, and held in strict confidence.
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23
VIII

Ann Merwins hands still gripped tightly the newspaper with which she had fled from her attorneys office. the newspaper whose startling head had caught her eye even as her hand re- ceived the final decree of divorce There was a wild expression in her eyes as she lunged through the crowd ed traffic of the streets toward the city hospital where the story said Henry had been taken.
 Forgotten the document in her handbag forgotten the bitterness with which he had treated her. She only remembered that he was the father of her child, that he was the man she had loved-the man she loved still
 Voiceless. forsaken by friends, an object of pity and contempt, vagrant succumbing to exposure at the dark waterside where he might have con templated making his final resting place-he was still her husband just as he always had been.
 She did not heed the curious glances of the nurses nor the internes as she demanded admittance to his bedside That the story of the celebrity's down fall the divorce and attendant scandal belonged to the world meant nothing to her. A queen-she demanded the right to be with her husband in his hour of need
 She did not shrink away from the poor creatures upon tho cots In the wards through which they passed. The tlOtsam and jetsam of a great city was there, but that mattered nothing to her. That her husband was just such another dependent upon a city's charity meant nothing to her.
 She felt little pain in her heart as the interne paused beside a snowy cot, hesitated a second before approaching the delirious man, tossing and tum- bling upon the cot, then bravely moved forward again. The interne rested his hand upon her arm. She looked into his face with surprise and saw nothing but sympathy there and desire to avoid harm coming to her. She brushed him aside and then a voice reached out to her a voice wild and hoarse. throbbing with the insanity of delirium yet with the longing of a world in it, a voice she would have known from all the voices of the world
 "Olga-Olga-OIga-'
 On and on and on. interminably, and always with that same piteous appeal, that same throbbing note of heart-rending helplessness cried the voice; the voice of Henry Merwin, her husband toward the woman, the laugh. ing womans back, the Olga Drake who sat in the head box of the diamond horseshoe.
 She held her head proudly, defiant ly as the superintendent of the hospi- tal tried to suppress the pity in his look with which he accepted the
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

money she had placed upon his desk. when she fled from that ward, fled from that voice
 When he is well, she said quietly, give him this money. Say 1t is from a-a friend"
 "But-"
 "From-a-friend,' she repeated softly a faint smile upon her lips.
 She rose suddenly for the scent of roses was in her nostrlls, the vision of fariung hills in her eyes. with a tiny white cottage nesting at the foot of them
 Perhaps he may go back" she murmured to herself, as she left the place Perhaps he may go back homeland be glad glad the home didn't go when everything else was Paid-paid Who Pays?"
 END OF THE FIRST STORY
 The next story, "The Pursuit Of Pleasure"
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

tured by the prickling fingers at his spine, the harsh grip at his heart.
 "- don't mind the whispering and talking while you sing They do 1t with everyone but Cabosso-"
 He heard no more, but these words scared themselves in letters of fire upon his brain. His teeth clicked shut with an audible sound. Suddenly all the stage fright disappeared be- fore an anticipatory rage. They should not whisper and talk while he sang; they should treat his voice with the same respect they treated that of CabossO. His voice was the equal of the great tenor's.
 Unconscious of his audience of the stir of curiosity at his appearance in stead of the familiar Cabosso, regard less of everything save overweening desire to win, Henry Merwin hardly realized he was upon the stage before the curtain stared him in the face, the curtain which formed a barrier against the tumultuous applause of the audience at his performance, and shut him into the other world behind the scenes, the world of fellow-singers who made him realize the tremendous impression he had created.
 He suddenly felt himself very weak felt his impotence He needed help, sympathy-he ueeded-Ann-
 Swiftly he discarded his costume but lily wiping the grease paint from his Countenence. But in his eyes glowed something of happiness, grow ing from more than fame as, half an hour later, he reread the message he had just written before passing 1t to the agent.
 Ann Merwin, Los Angeles. Cal: Come to New York at once No more poverty.
 HENRY.
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

and for a long time. my dear Bella, could not keep that voice from ny ears. Everything was there ex- cept the training. AS you know, I have heard them all and have not been rated the worst myself, but for natural singing quality I have never heard this young Henry Merwin's superior"
 "lt merely shows" he continued, how possible it Is to dodge duty. That voice belonged to the world. But as l recalled what the struggle meant. what must be gone through before the summit is attained, did not have the outrage Like a coward. a traitor to my art, I fled" He smiled wh1msi- cally But it was to be. l returned to my work, to the horrible grind listened to the sounds that could never be made into song and always l was hearing the voice of the farmer boy who leased the bird"
 And my little words of encourage ment had fallen upon a soul worthy of that divine voice. Henry Merwin fought his way to the wagon seat of a milk wagon. That was what he did when he found me, that is what he is doing now-driving a milk wagon"
 T was in a laundry" the great so- prano murmured softly, as though to herself
 De Retsky started to speak, but the expression on her face deterred him.
 He Is married?" she queried abruptly.
 Married the little beauty saw him with that evening as 1 returned to my hotel--the little country girl he ran to with the news"
 And l suppose she was happy in his joy, happy at the encouragement you had given him!" A lurking bitterness was in the singers tones, a note that caused the professor to look at her sharply.
 Little Dora twisted her ankle one morning while was busy with a pupil. Young Merwin was driving past and helped the child. He recognized me immediately. though l had quite
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

of it of my happincss,' she answered bravely
 Ann shivered again under some thing she read in Madam Holmes eyes. She had felt it even before the woman crossed the threshold had been feeling it in ever increasing vol ume while De Retsky and her hus- band outlined plans for his operatic studies abroad The great singer had been silent strangely silent since it was she who was doing the financing of that voice. And now the wife knew that madam was about to speak and with her eyes pleaded to the celebrity-as woman to woman-for pity, for charity And madam shrank before that look, even while her lips frightened
 "Of course" she said slowly, "I shall provide for your wife while you are abroad, MT Merwin."
 Though she had been expecting a blow. though she had neryed herself for the worst, Ann could not repress the little cry of incredulous pain that leaped from her lips Her hands sought her heart gropingly the hands that still gripped the unfinished shoe
 You mean-you mean that I am not to go-that Henry is to go alone to leave me and-and-'
 "A student should have no distrac- ton in his studies
 Ann felt something go dead within her Her hands went out in groping fashion toward her husband
 Henry you-you want to leave-' She could not finish for the great choking sob constructing her throat, suffocating her.
 He wheeled upon her fiercely, plunged into a rage of his own creat- ing, but madam flashed him a warn ing look as Ann sank back in her chair.
 My dear" in the great sopranos voice were all the tones that had quickened tears in the hearts of au- dlences throughout the world, you must not make it any harder than it is already Don't you know that understand; that l am a woman, ard that l understand your pain at part ing?" She moved a step closer, plac- ing her hand upon Ann's shoulder and turning upon the two men.
 You have your choice, Mir. Merwin -milkman or a Voice. I had the choice and Voice won. It has brought me fame, wealth, honor, glory; it has lost me all that my heart would have clung to did l consider happiness alone. I do not say that it is always so, but the price of fame is often mis- cry The price of Fame must be paid and Fame is a hard bargainer"
 Ann looked up eagerly timidly, yet with a strange ferocity to catch the impression upon her husband What she read upon his face filled her with swift selfreproach
 "T think I understand she whis- pered softly. T want the fame for him 1"
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

me continually | tried doctors and all kinds of medicine for several years but was not cured until l took Lydia r.
 Pinkham's Vegeta- ble Compound. | hope my testimonial will help other suf- fering wOm en to try your wonderful medicine Mrs.
The Sentinel=record., 1915-05-23

He waited in the library. listening to the sounds of delight from Ann's room.
 In the week he had tasted the fruit of success and laughed at the fear he had enterta!ned of it. To be sought out by the great director and placed under a contract at figure he had only vaguely dreamed of ever earning; to be the toast of town and press, to be invited into the very heart of so- ciety's most sanctified circle; to know that it was all deserved surely they were fools who had told him the price to be paid for fame was heavy.
 And now Ann was here, was so close to him he had but to tap upon the adjoining door to see her, so close to him he could hear her de- lighted eXclamations over the gown he had bought for her to wear at Mrs Van Rolphe's reception that very night.
 Slowly a frown crossed his fore head. perplexed and anxious frown. Ann-would Ann be able to live up to the position he had created for her?
 A little cry from the doorway, and he clasped her 10 his heart, flercely. for the doubt that had been his But, as he held her away from him, he was filled with the bitter realization that the doubt remained
 Pretty, fresh, wholesome-yet she was obviously uncomfortable in her finery There was something of the out-of-doors about her that did not seem to fit into the new li - He felt himself guiltily contrasting her with the dark. exotic beauty of Olga Drake. the woman who had made so much of him at a reception of the day F.