Part 22 (1/2)
”'Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all the fruit-tree tops,'”
said Gertrude. ”I can't remember the next line.”
”What I miss in this game,” said Gerald, in a critical tone, ”is accuracy. There isn't a fruit-tree on the Point.”
”And the moon, of course, limits herself strictly to the point!” said Gertrude, laughing.
”It's more than you do!” retorted her brother. ”But a truce to badinage!
I go back to prose and 'Happy Thoughts.' 'I say ”O moon!” rapturously, but nothing comes of it.'”
”But something shall come of it this time, Jerry,” said his mother.
”Perhaps we have had enough quotations now. Give us the 'Gipsy Song.'”
Nothing loth, Gerald sang the wild, beautiful song, his sisters humming the accompaniment. Then one song and another was called for, and the night rang with ballad and barcarole, glee and round. There never seemed to be any limit to the Merryweather repertoire.
Presently Bell whispered to Gertrude; the latter pa.s.sed the whisper on to Margaret and Peggy. Silently all four girls rose and slipped away, with a word breathed into Mrs. Merryweather's ear, begging her to keep up the singing.
”Where are the girls going?” asked their father.
”They will be back in a moment,” said Mrs. Merryweather. ”Give us 'Prinz Eugen,' boys; all of you together!”
And out rolled, in booming ba.s.s and silvery tenor, the glorious old camp song of the German wars:
”Prinz Eugen, der edle Ritter, Woll't dem Kaiser wied'rum kriegen Stadt und Festung Belgerad.”
This was a favorite song of the Merryweather boys, and they never knew which verse to leave out, so they generally sang all nine of them. They did so this time, and finally ended with a prolonged roar of:
”Liess ihm bringen recht zu Peterwardein.”
A moment of silence followed. Indeed, none of the singers had any breath left.
”'And silence like a poultice falls, To heal the blows of sound!'”
quoted Mr. Merryweather. ”Hark! what is that?”
Again the sound of singing was heard. This time it came from the direction of the tents. Girl's voices, thrilling clear and sweet on the stillness. The air was even more familiar than that of ”Prinz Eugen,”
one of the sweetest airs that ever echoed to moonlight and the night:
”Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten, Da.s.s ich so traurig bin;”--
The girls came singing out into the moonlight, hand in hand. They were in bathing-dress; their long hair floated over their shoulders; their white arms shone in the white light. Instead of coming back to the float, they plunged into the water, and swam, still singing, to a rock that reared a great rounded back from the water. Up on this rock they climbed, and sat them down, shaking off the water in diamond spray; and still their voices rang out, clear and thrilling on the quiet air:
”Die schonste Jungfrau sitzet Dort oben wunderbar; Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet, Sie kammt ihr goldenes Haar.”
”Gee!” muttered Gerald to himself.
”Pretty!” said Mr. Merryweather, taking his pipe from between his teeth.
”Miranda, I don't know that I ever saw anything much prettier than that.”