Told in a French Garden / August, 1914

UL OF

e of a

of the men made

he Divorcée had a trunk or two that she thought she ought to send in order that we might start with as little luggage as possible, so both chauffeurs were sent up to town with baggage, and orders to wait there

sed to see the Doctor going out to the servants' quarters instead of joining us as he

urselves as best we can with the cook's aid. We have no waitress to-night. But

he Divorcée. "Is she ill?"

sharply. "You can't help her

t, we all knew w

the news?" so

plied the Doctor, "and the garde champêtre told me

he Trained Nurse. "Are you

her face. Then she lifted it above her head in both hands, and said, almost without a choke in her throat, 'Vive la France, quand mê

y baby!" exclaimed the D

ll go through life with a halo round her head, and, like most of the French women I have seen, she'll wear it like a crown. It becomes us, in the same spirit,

he was

nning, that the Doctor has told a story out of his turn, and both

cook trotted in with the trays, and with our elbows on the table, we turned toward the Violinist, who leaned against the high back of his chair, a

from Germany to my native land, and settled

was well to do. I had enough to live without labor, and was, therefore, abl

o that, I was

me, for, while she accepted my worship with indulgence, she wasted f

to keep me so until, a year after my return, I met one woman, loved h

t, she used to assure me that she possessed, by proxy, tha

e appeared to have a veritable violin soul. Her face was often the medium through which I saw the spirit of the m

ept across her burnished hair, that the air was full of melody. And when she looked especially ethereal-as she did at times-I would catch her in my arms, and bid her tell me, on peril of her life, what song was hidden in her heart, that I might teach it to my v

ands, yet she never played. This was the more singular as her mother had been a great singer, and her fath

spell about her, and conjure the spirit that was imprisoned in the heart t

re the days

Rodriguez, for some seasons a European celeb

wn some of them well, had played with many of them, as I did l

. Faster even than the tales of his genius had travelled the tales o

es of excesses, only tolerated in the conspicuous, do color one's expectations. I suppose that, being youn

t yet at the zenith of his great career. His face was fine, manly, and sympathetic. His brow was broad, his eyes deep-set and widely spaced, but very heavy lidded. The mouth and chin were, I must own, too delicate and sensitive for the rest of the face. His dark hair, young as he was, had streaks of grey. In bearing he was

l on one-they usually drooped a little-but for a sensitive quiver along the too full lips, as if they still trembled from the ca

t would be superfluous for me to recount his triumphs. They are too recent to have

place every-day cares, to the moments of courage, of re-awakened endeavor which he inspired in his fellowmen, to the marvellous magnetism of his playing

al. Thorough musicians marvelled at and envied him his mastery of the details of his art, but

For myself, I only know that, as the magic music which Hunold Singref played in the streets of Hamelin, whispered in the ears of little childre

ulfilled some part of its mission on earth, if, but for one hour, thousands, marshalled by its music, as the children of Israel by the pillar of flame, have looked above the dull atmosphere where pain and loss and sorrow are, to feel in themselves that divine longing w

nd painters, preachers and orators all approach their goal by the road to the emotions-if they hope to win the big world. Patriotism, fidelity-love of country, like love of woman-

owing to the novelty of some of his programs, and the cons

raise my eyes to the balcony in front of me, where, from my positio

of Rodriguez's inviolable rules to play a program exactly as announced, and never to add to it. In the month he had be

lost count of the number of times he had ascended and descended the little flight of steps which led, behind a screen, from the artist's room to the stage, when, having turned in my seat to watch him,

happened, he crossed the stage, stepped

There was a sudden hush. A few sank back in their seats, but most of them remained

ical ideas. So, of the effect of Rodriguez's music on my mind, or the possibility that, for some occult reason, I was for the moment en rapport with him, as after events forced me to believe, I shall ente

s the first chord filled my ea

eared, disappeared and re-appeared again and again to be wo

ll else in Nature, save its clear voice, seemed sensuous. I saw gardens in a riot of color; felt love at its passionate consummation, ere the light seemed to fade slowly toward the sunset hour. The world was still pulsing with color, but the grey of twilight was slowly enwrapping it. Then the simple melody soared above the day's peacefullest hour, firm in promise on the hushed air. In the mystery of ni

host, I strained my hearing to catch that "last fine sound" that passed so gently one "could not be quite sur

the hush wa

rings. Yet there was no sound that one could hear, though h

ow-he smiled-we all cam

e followed as be

t, and no amount of tumult could in

eir traps, and wildly or soberly according to their temperaments, began to dispute. It w

y, with regret. As it gradually died into silence a mist seemed to pass from before my eyes, and I became suddenly conscious of the sweet face of my beloved, growing more and more distinct,

ppearances, I had been gazing di

layed was not new to me. It seemed like something

at, and turned up the collar about my face. I was sure I was haggard, and I did not wish

see Rodriguez standing there in conversation with her, and her

great violinist was a mere lad, and I had heard that he for

er sensitive violin face, as I tried to get a look into her eyes. I remembered afterward that, so wrapped was I in

We walked briskly, a

n egoist an emotional man can be, an

to spend all Sunday with her. I was always somewhat an epicure in my moral nature. I like

s restless a

enever that motif fell from my fingers her face appeared before my eyes so distinctly that I would have to dash my hand across them to wipe away the impression that it was the rea

re and more. I could find nowhere within my memory anything t

th my own company, and I started out. I had no destination. Something impelled me toward the Opera House, t

a was "Faust"-just in season to h

-like Marguerite that goes a-starring in America. My eyes wandered restlessly over the audience. Suddenly there was a rushing, like the surging of waters, in my ears, whic

ck, leaving me amazed at a condition in myself which should have rendered me so susceptible, in some subconscious way, to the undoubted magnetism of the man whose violin ha

net, would turn in his direction, and as often as that happened, whether he were leaning back to speak to some one hidden

I might end by making myself objectionable, and that, after all, it was far wiser to be saf

e foyer, and had nearly reached the outer lob

oked

pproached, and, with a quaint shake of the head, said: "I just made a wager with myself. I bet that if I encountered you in t

imply turned beside me, thrust his arm carelessl

was easy to understand why. The hero of the

d into th

night. I remember

ld his case toward me. I shook m

seem too fantastic to you. It is more difficult than writing a fugue. The truth is-I have gotten myself into a bit of a fi

me, need balk at; nothing, in fact, that a chivalrous man would not be glad to do. You may not think very well of me afterward, but be sure you will never regret the act. I was i

ded a

ask you to let me try it-you and I can n

t. When I leave the box, after the next act, do you follow me. Stay by me, no matter what happens. Stick to me, even though I ask you to leave me, so long as there is any one wi

d him th

then,"

foyer. As we were about to separate, he laid a hand on either of my shoulders, and with a whimsical smile, said: "I'll dare swear I shall try to give you th

realized that I had promised to follow this man, I did not

ox, and peering through the glass, like a detective. I knew I was afraid that he would keep his word and try to give me the slip. I never asked myself wh

, and yet had no appearance of watching him. It was well that I did, for in an instant the door opened. He came out and passed me quickly, follow

med to say, "Is it you, old True-penny?" But he merely bent his head courteously and with his lips said,

in the gentlest manner he said in my ear, as he stood aside for me to

friend whom you were kind enough

de no

ase of thanks, which was, I am sure, inaudible. Then Rodrig

lady, whose face was concealed behind the fal

were mistaken, for he received no response. He murmured an oath against the pav

e lady leaned back in her corner. Opposite her Rodriguez hummed "Salve! dimor

l I found that we had stopped in front of a French rest

ut, assisted the l

if I were suddenly waking from a dream into conscious, with exactly the same sensation I have experienced many and many a m

, I called her by name-and m

he hood of her c

toward us, as nearly broken from his self-c

ale face. There was much the same expression in our eyes, I fancy,

he is gifted, it seems to me, with a dissimulation in which she wraps herself, as with an impenet

knew them all. But-I said nothing. Some instinct saved me; some vague fore-knowledge

minute none

wly turned them from her face to mine. So bound up was he in himself that I was confident that he

r to sit-she did look dangerously white. She sank into it, and wearily leaned her pretty head back, as if for support, and I noticed that her slender hands, as they grasped eith

w each other," he said, "and very well, too, if

, and laid my hand on it. "This lad

h his gaze fixed on her face. For one instant he turned his widely opened eyes on me-brief as the glance was, I felt it was critical.

stly as the comment was, grotesque even, as it all seemed, I think we both understood. H

you have the right to demand of me the explanation I so flippantly offered you an hour ago. I am bound to own that, had I dreamed that you knew this lady-that a relation so intimate existed between you-I should surely never have done of my own will this which Fate has presumed to do for me. What can I say to you two that will help or mend this-to you, my fellow musician, who were willing to stand my friend in need, without question; and to the woman you l

ooked into mine. I had seen her face before me night after night, never dreaming who she was. I had always played to her, and it had seemed to me at times as if the music I made was in her face. I could see nothing else. I seemed to be looking t

er know it was said to her-that I went back to the stage. Almost before I realized it, I was there. I felt the vibrant soul of my violin as I laid my cheek against it, and I saw the same spirit tremble behind the eyes of the fair face above me, as one sees a reflection tremble under the wind rippled water. The first chord throbbed on the air in response to it. Then I played what she had unconsciously inspired in me. It

moved toward him, and as she

d not

nt, she relaxed a little, and her head drooped wearily on my shoulder. He lowered his

I recognized him at once. I knew your mother well. I can remember the day on which you were born, I was a lad then. Your mother was one of my idols. Why, child, I fiddled for you in your cradle. At the moment I realized who y

t was fresh in my mind. As I wrote I was alone with you. But as the spirit of the music was imprisoned, I knew that you w

I was! But it had served its purpose. They tell me I never played like that before.

et daughter of your mother for her share in making me great. I had the presumption to believe in myself. It seemed natural enough to your good father that 'a whimsical genius,' as he called

as inspiring. I spent a beautiful afternoon with you. I cannot better explain than by saying that to me it was like such a day as I have sometimes had with my violin. I call the

his kind heart he always considered me a most maligned man,-we

rated in harmony like two ends of a chord. Then I saw no more the spirit behind her eyes. I saw only the beautiful face in which the color came and went, the burnished hair so full of golden lights, on which I longed to lay

ion, I am sure he did not realize how far he wa

stood before me as she rested her

of her nature,-and wept at my work! I had not the courage to tear myself abruptly away. I suggested an hour of the opera-I gave her the public as a protector-and they sang 'Faust.' It

ok my

r hands from her face. Her eyelids trembled. F

offspring of a miraculous sympathy will live immortal when all else of our two lives is forgotten. Remember t

d into the beauti

yself. A great musician-and this man was one-was

e hand he held out.

knew they would soon enough be dry. I did not doubt his sincerity when he said, "I have never d

as if he would tak

her there. I knew I loved her as he could n

her long,-so we shall never meet again. I shall never cease to be grateful to the Providence that threw you in my way-after to-night. To-night I could curse it and my c

side. I listened to his step as he descended th

as yea

long b

out of the eyes of the woman I loved never quite came bac

ook of Fate that it should be his heart, and not m

ced our first illusions-and the Song he read wil