The First Violin Part 36

"Yes, I am, I see. We will moderate the pace a little."

We walked more slowly. Physically I was inexpressibly weary. The reaction after my drenching had set in; I felt a languor which amounted to pain, and an aching and weakness in every limb. I tried to regret the event, but could not; tried to wish it were not such a long walk to Elberthal, and found myself perversely regretting that it was such a short one.

At length the lights of the town came in sight. I heaved a deep sigh.

Soon it would be over--"the glory and the dream."

"I think we are exactly on the way to your house, _nicht wahr_?" said he.

"Yes; and to yours since we are opposite neighbors."

"Yes."

"You are not as lonely as I am, though; you have companions."

"I--oh--Friedhelm; yes."

"And--your little boy."

"Sigmund also," was all he said.

But "_auch_ Sigmund" may express much more in German than in English. It did so then.

"And you?" he added.

"I am alone," said I.

I did not mean to be foolishly sentimental. The sigh that followed my words was involuntary.

"So you are. But I suppose you like it?"

"Like it? What can make you think so?"

"Well, at least you have good friends."

"Have I? Oh, yes, of course!" said I, thinking of von Francius.

"Do you get on with your music?" he next inquired.

"I hope so. I--do you think it strange that I should live there all alone?" I asked, tormented with a desire to know what he did think of me, and cra.s.sly ready to burst into explanations on the least provocation. I was destined to be undeceived.

"I have not thought about it at all; it is not my business."

Snub number one. He had spoken quickly, as if to clear himself as much as possible from any semblance of interest to me.

I went on, rashly plunging into further intricacies of conversation:

"It is curious that you and I should not only live near to each other, but actually have the same profession at last."

"How?"

Snub number two. But I persevered.

"Music. Your profession is music, and mine will be."

"I do not see the resemblance. There is little point of likeness between a young lady who is in training for a prima-donna and an obscure musiker, who contributes his share of shakes and runs to the symphony."

"I in training for a prima-donna! How can you say so?"

"Do we not all know the forte of Herr von Francius? And--excuse me--are not your windows opposite to ours, and open as a rule? Can I not hear the music you practice, and shall I not believe my own ears?"

"I am sure your own ears do not tell you that a future prima-donna lives opposite to you," said I, feeling most insanely and unreasonably hurt and cut up at the idea.

"Will you tell me that you are not studying for the stage?"

"I never said I was not. I said I was not a future prima-donna. My voice is not half good enough. I am not clever enough, either."

He laughed.

"As if voice or cleverness had anything to do with it. Personal appearance and friends at court are the chief things. I have known prime-donne--seen them, I mean--and from my place below the foot-lights I have had the impertinence to judge them upon their own merits.

Provided they were handsome, impudent, and unscrupulous enough, their public seemed gladly to dispense with art, cultivation, or genius in their performances and conceptions."

"And you think that I am, or shall be in time, handsome, impudent, and unscrupulous enough," said I, in a low choked tone.

My fleeting joy was being thrust back by hands most ruthless. Unmixed satisfaction for even the brief s.p.a.ce of an hour or so was not to be included in my lot.

"_O, bewahre!_" said he, with a little laugh, that chilled me still further. "I think no such thing. The beauty is there, _mein Fraulein_--pardon me for saying so--"

Indeed, I was well able to pardon it. Had he been informing his grandmother that there were the remains of a handsome woman to be traced in her, he could not have spoken more unenthusiastically.

"The beauty is there. The rest, as I said, when one has friends, these things are arranged for one."

"But I have no friends."

"No," with again that dry little laugh. "Perhaps they will be provided at the proper time, as Elijah was fed by the ravens. Some fine night--who knows--I may sit with my violin in the orchestra at your benefit, and one of the bouquets with which you are smothered may fall at my feet and bring me _aus der fuge_. When that happens, will you forgive me if I break a rose from the bouquet before I toss it on to the feet of its rightful owner? I promise that I will seek for no note, nor spy out any ring or bracelet. I will only keep the rose in remembrance of the night when I skated with you across the Schwanenspiegel, and prophesied unto you the future. It will be a kind of 'I told you so,' on my part."

Mock sentiment, mock respect, mock admiration; a sneer in the voice, a dry sarcasm in the words. What was I to think? Why did he veer round in this way, and from protecting kindness return to a raillery which was more cruel than his silence? My blood rose, though, at the mockingness of his tone.

"I don't know what you mean," said I, coldly. "I am studying operatic music. If I have any success in that line, I shall devote myself to it.

What is there wrong in it? The person who has her living to gain must use the talents that have been given her. My talent is my voice; it is the only thing I have--except, perhaps, some capacity to love--those--who are kind to me. I can do that, thank G.o.d! Beyond that I have nothing, and I did not make myself."

"A capacity to love those who are kind to you," he said, hastily. "And do you love all who are kind to you?"

"Yes," said I, stoutly, though I felt my face burning.

"And hate them that despitefully use you?"

"Naturally," I said, with a somewhat unsteady laugh. A rush of my ruling feeling--propriety and decent reserve--tied my tongue, and I could not say, "Not all--not always."

He, however, snapped, as it were, at my remark or admission, and chose to take it as if it were in the deepest earnest; for he said, quickly, decisively, and, as I thought, with a kind of exultation: