Part 44 (2/2)
”The fourth movement opens with Lenore's lamentation over her absent lover and her quarrel with her mother--the oboe being the girl and the ba.s.soon her parent. Lenore foolishly curses her fate (tympani and triangle), and from that moment is lost. There is a knock at the door and her dead lover appears with a horse and suggests something in the nature of an elopement. Not knowing he is dead, Lenore acquiesces, and away they go (trumpets, flutes and clarinets).
”'T is a wild and fearful night. Rack scuds across the moon's wan face (violas and second violins). Hanged men rattle in their chains upon the wayside gibbets (triangle and piccolo). But on, on, on go the lovers, one dead and the other nearly so.
”At last they reach the grave in the church-yard, and death claims the lost Lenore ('cellos and ba.s.s viols _pizzicato_). For a conclusion there is a coda founded on the line in the ballad, 'Gott sei der Seele gnadig.' It is very sad.”
Dr. Dubbe seemed much affected by the sad tale, and many of us had to wipe tears away. But Miss Ellenborough came to our rescue with some lovely doughnuts made in the shape of a true lovers' knot. These, with the tea, quite restored us.
VI.
There really wasn't any study cla.s.s this week--that is, Dr. Dubbe did not appear. While the cla.s.s waited for him and wondered if he were ill a messenger brought me the following note:
”My Dear Poeta: Kindly inform the cla.s.s that there will be no lecture this week. I cannot stand for such a trivial program as Herr Thomas has prepared.
C. F.-D.”
”He might have told us sooner,” said Miss Georgiana Gush.
”Why, yes; he knew last week what the next program would be,” said Mrs.
Faran-Dole.
”The eccentricity of genius, my dear,” remarked Mrs. Gottem-Allbeat.
”Genius is not tied down by rules of conduct of any sort.”
”Well,” said Mrs. Givu A. Payne, ”I don't blame him for not wanting to a.n.a.lyze this week's program. There isn't a bit of Bach or Brahms on it.”
”Ladies,” said Miss Ellenborough, coming forward with a gentleman who had just arrived, ”let me introduce Mr. Booth Tarkington, of Indiana.
Mr. Tarkington came up to attend the lecture, but as Dr. Dubbe will not be here Mr. Tarkington has kindly consented to give a doughnut recital, so to speak.”
”Oh, how lovely!” we all exclaimed.
”Mr. Tarkington,” added Miss Ellenborough, ”is well known as the author of the Beaucaire doughnut, the pride of Indiana doughnutdom.”
Saying which Miss Ellenborough removed the screen that conceals her work table and Mr. Tarkington, in an incredibly short time, produced a batch of Beaucaires. They were really excellent, and we didn't leave a single one. Mr. Everham Chumpleigh Keats poured.
After tea we all adjourned to the concert, which we enjoyed immensely, in spite of the absence of Bach and Brahms. Not knocking Dr. Dubbe.
A LINE-O'-TYPE OR TWO
_Inveniat, quod quisque velit; non omnibus unum est, Quod placet; hic spinas colligit, ille rosas._
--_Petronius._
_THE Pa.s.sING OF SUMMER._
_Summer is gone with its roses, Summer is gone with its wine; Likewise a lot of dam choses Not so ideal and benign._
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