the fifth string-第6章

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One　god　is　god　of　both；　as　poets

One　knight　loves　both；　and　both　in　thee　remain。''





Grander　and　grander　the　melody

rose；　voicing　love's　triumph　with　wondrous

sweetness　and　palpitating　rhythm。

Mildred；　her　face　flushed　with　excitement；

a　heavenly　fire　in　her　eyes　and　in

an　attitude　of　supplication；　reveled　in

the　glory　of　a　new　found　emotion。



As　the　violinist　concluded　his

performance　an　oppressive　silence　pervaded

the　house；　then　the　audience；　wild　with

excitement；　burst　into　thunders　of

applause。　In　his　dressing…room　Diotti

was　besieged　by　hosts　of　people；

congratulating　him　in　extravagant　terms。



Mildred　Wallace　came；　extending　her

hands。　He　took　them　almost　reverently。

She　looked　into　his　eyes；　and

he　knew　he　had　struck　the　chord　responsive

in　her　soul。







VIII



The　sun　was　high　in　the　heavens

when　the　violinist　awoke。　A　great

weight　had　been　lifted　from　his　heart；

he　had　passed　from　darkness　into　dawn。



A　messenger　brought　him　this　note：





My　Dear　Signor　DiottiI　am　at　home　this

afternoon；　and　shall　be　delighted　to　see　you　and

return　my　thanks　for　the　exquisite　pleasure　you

gave　me　last　evening。　Music；　such　as　yours；

is　indeed　the　voice　of　heaven。　　Sincerely；



Mildred　Wallace。





The　messenger　returned　with　this　reply：





My　Dear　Miss　WallaceI　will　call　at　three　to…day。



Gratefully；

Angelo　Diotti。





He　watched　the　hour　drag　from　eleven

to　twelve；　then　counted　the　minutes　to

one；　and　from　that　time　until　he　left　the

hotel　each　second　was　tabulated　in　his

mind。　Arriving　at　her　residence；　he

was　ushered　into　the　drawing…room。　It

was　fragrant　with　the　perfume　of　violets；

and　he　stood　gazing　at　her　portrait

expectant　of　her　coming。



Dressed　in　simple　white；　entrancing

in　her　youthful　freshness；　she　entered；

her　face　glowing　with　happiness；　her

eyes　languorous　and　expressive。　She

hastened　to　him；　offering　both　hands。

He　held　them　in　a　loving；　tender　grasp；

and　for　a　moment　neither　spoke。　Then

she；　gazing　clearly　and　fearlessly　into

his　eyes；　said：　‘‘My　heart　has　found　its

melody！''



He；　kneeling　like　Sir　Gareth　of　old：

‘‘The　song　and　the　singer　are　yours

forever。　''



She；　bidding　him　arise：　‘‘And　I　forever

yours。''　And　wondering　at　her

boldness；　she　added；　‘‘I　know　and　feel

that　you　love　meyour　eyes　confirmed

your　love　before　you　spoke。''　Then；

convincingly　and　ingenuously；　‘‘I　knew

you　loved　me　the　moment　we　first　met。

Then　I　did　not　understand　what　that

meant　to　you；　now　I　do。''



He　drew　her　gently　to　him；　and　the

motive　of　their　happiness　was　defined

in　sweet　confessions：　‘‘My　love；　my

lifeMy　life；　my　love。''



The　magic　of　his　music　had　changed

her　very　being；　the　breath　of　love　was

in　her　soul；　the　vision　of　love　was　dancing

in　her　eyes。　The　child　of　marble；

like　the　statue　of　old；　had　come　to　life：



　　　　　　　　　　‘‘And　not　long　since

I　was　a　cold；　dull　stone！　I　recollect

That　by　some　means　I　knew　that　I　was　stone；

That　was　the　first　dull　gleam　of　consciousness；

I　became　conscious　of　a　chilly　self；

A　cold；　immovable　identity。

I　knew　that　I　was　stone；　and　knew　no　more！

Then；　by　an　imperceptible　advance；

Came　the　dim　evidence　of　outer　things；

Seendarkly　and　imperfectlyyet　seen

The　walls　surrounding　me；　and　I；　alone。

That　pedestalthat　curtainthen　a　voice

That　called　on　Galatea！　At　that　word；

Which　seemed　to　shake　my　marble　to　the　core；

That　which　was　dim　before；　came　evident。

Sounds；　that　had　hummed　around　me；　indistinct；

Vague；　meaninglessseemed　to　resolve　themselves

Into　a　language　I　could　understand；

I　felt　my　frame　pervaded　by　a　glow

That　seemed　to　thaw　my　marble　into　flesh；

Its　cold；　hard　substance　throbbed　with　active　life；

My　limbs　grew　supple；　and　I　movedI　lived！

Lived　in　the　ecstasy　of　a　new…born　life！

Lived　in　the　love　of　him　that　fashioned　me！

Lived　in　a　thousand　tangled　thoughts　of　hope。''





Day　after　day　he　came；　they　told　their

love；　their　hopes；　their　ambitions。　She

assumed　absolute　proprietorship　in　him。

She　gloried　in　her　possession。



He　was　born　into　the　world；　nurtured

in　infancy；　trained　in　childhood　and

matured　into　manhood；　for　one　express

purposeto　be　hers　alone。　Her

ownership　ranged　from　absolute　despotism

to　humble　slavery；　and　he　was　happy

through　it　all。



One　day　she　said：　‘‘Angelo；　is　it　your　purpose

to　follow　your　profession　always？''



‘‘Necessarily；　it　is　my　livelihood；''　he　replied。



‘‘But　do　you　not　think　that　after　we

stand　at　the　altar；　we　never　should　be

separated？''



‘‘We　will　be　together　always；''　said

he；　holding　her　face　between　his　palms；

and　looking　with　tender　expression　into

her　inquiring　eyes。



‘‘But　I　notice　that　women　cluster

around　you　after　your　concertsand

shake　your　hand　longer　than　they

shouldand　talk　to　you　longer　than

they　shouldand　go　away　looking　self…

satisfied！''　she　replied　brokenly；　much

as　a　little　girl　tells　of　the　theft　of　her

doll。



‘‘Nonsense；''　he　said；　smiling；　‘‘that

is　all　part　of　my　profession；　it　is　not

me　they　care　for；　it　is　the　music　I

give　that　makes　them　happy。　If；　in　my

playing；　I　achieve　results　out　of　the

common；　they　admire　me！''　and　he　kissed

away　the　unwelcome　tears。



‘‘I　know；''　she　continued；　‘‘but

lately；　since　we　have　loved　each　other；

I　can　not　bear　to　see　a　woman　near

you。　In　my　dreams　again　and　again

an　indefinable　shadow　mockingly　comes；

and　cries　to　me；　‘he　is　not　to　be　yours；

he　is　to　be　mine。'　''



Diotti　flushed　and　drew　her　to　him

‘‘Darling；''　his　voice　carrying　conviction；

‘‘I　am　yours；　you　are　mine；　all　in

all；　in　life　here　and　beyond！''　And　as

she　sat　dreaming　after　he　had　gone；　she

murmured　petulantly；　‘‘I　wish　there

were　no　other　women　in　the　world。''



Her　father　was　expected　from　Europe

on　the　succeeding　day's　steamer。　Mr。

Wallace　was　a　busy　man。　The　various

gigantic　enterprises　he　served　as　president

or　director　occupied　most　of　his

time。　He　had　been　absent　in　Europe

for　several　months；　and　Mildred　was

anxiously　awaiting　his　return　to　tell　him

of　her　love。



When　Mr。　Wallace　came　to　his　residence

the　next　morning；　his　daughter

met　him　with　a　fond　display　of　filial

affection；　they　walked　into　the　drawing…

room；　hand　in　hand；　he　saw　a　picture

of　the　violinist　on　the　piano。　‘‘Who's

the　handsome　young　fellow？''　he　asked；

looking　at　the　portrait　with　the　satisfaction

a　man　feels　when　he　sees　a　splendid

type　of　his　own　sex。



‘‘That　is　Angelo　Diotti；　the　famous

violinist；''　she　said；　but　she　could　not

add　another　word。



As　they　strolled　through　the　rooms

he　noticed　no　less　than　three　likenesses

of　the　Tuscan。　And　as　they　passed　her

room　he　saw　still　another　on　the　chiffonnier。



‘‘Seems　to　me　the　house　is　running　wild　with

photographs　of　that　fiddler；''　he　said。



For　the　first　time　in　her　life　she　was

self…conscious：　‘‘I　will　wait　for　a　more

opportune　time　to　tell　him；''　she　thought。



In　the　scheme　of　Diotti's　appearance

in　New　York　there　were　to　be　two

more　concerts。　One　was　to　be　given

that　evening。　Mildred　coaxed　her

father　to　accompany　her　to　hear　the

violinist。　Mr。　Wallace　was　not　fond

of　music；　‘‘it　had　been　knocked　out　of

him　on　the　farm　up　in　Vermont；　when

he　was　a　boy；''　he　would　apologetically

explain；　and　besides　he　had　the　old

puritanical　abhorrence　of　stage　people

putting　them　all　in　one　classas　puppets

who　danced　for　played　or　talked　for　an

idle　and　unthinking　public。



So　it　was　with　the　thought　of　a

wasted　evening　that　he　accompanied

Mildred　to　the　concert。



The　entertainment　was　a　repetition

of　the　others　Diotti　had　given；　and　at

its　end；　Mildred　said　to　her　father：

‘‘Come；　I　want　to　congratulate　Signor

Diotti　in　person。''



‘‘That　is　entirely　unnecessary；''　he

replied。



‘‘It　is　my　desir