Part 6 (1/2)

”Has her voice any resemblance to--to”--de Sterny stopped short.

”Say, will you sing something for us, Bijou?” whispered Gesa to the girl, ”we will not urge you, but if....”

”You would give me such great pleasure!” said de Sterny.

Making no answer, with a heavy movement, as if walking in sleep, the young girl rose, went to the spinet, and laid a sheet of music on the desk. It was the fine old romance of Martini--”plaisir d'Amour.” The virtuoso instantly offered to accompany her. She nodded shyly. Softly and sadly through the shabby green chamber sounded the immortal love song, a song which the united efforts of all the female pupils in the Conservatories of Europe have not succeeded in killing.

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un instant, Chagrin d'amour dure tonte la vie!--

She held her hands, as she had been taught, lightly laid in one another, but the delicate head, contrary to regulation, was inclined toward the right shoulder--as if it had suddenly grown heavy. Her voice sounded hollow and mournful; it trembled as if with suppressed sobs.

”She is afraid of you,” said Gesa, who had come up to her side, ”I don't know in the least what ails her. Usually she does not want courage. _Pauvre pet.i.te chat_”--and he stroked her hair gently.

The virtuoso's brow fell, as if it hurt him to witness these innocent caresses. He turned to Delileo.

”It is the same voice, absolutely the same voice! A wonderful likeness!

Now, mademoiselle, you will grant me just one more trifle, will you not?”

Gesa brought out from a pile of music a written sheet, and laid it on the rack. ”Just do this, Annette,” he urged, taking up his violin. ”The song is for voice and violin,” he said--”Please give me an A, de Sterny.” De Sterny struck the note.

It was the ”Nessun maggior dolore” from his own music to Dante's Inferno, which Gesa had laid on the music desk. A strange composition, in which the human voice swelled from soft half audible revery to bitter despairing utterance of pain, while the violin gave out a melody of penetrating sweetness, like the torturing memory of long vanished joy. Gesa's cheeks were burning as he finished the performance of this his favorite composition. De Sterny let his hands glide from the keyboard, and fixed the violinist with a sharp look, ”That is yours?”

he asked.

Gesa nodded.

”Then let yourself be embraced on the spot. It is simply superb!”

It was toward eleven o'clock before de Sterny remembered that duty called him back into ”the world.” Gesa had shown him several more of his own compositions, and in everything the virtuoso had taken the liveliest interest.

Gesa accompanied his friend from the Rue Ravestein into the region of civilization. De Sterny was absent and silent. ”Well, what do you say?”

urged his disciple, pressingly.

”You will have very great success.”

”In what--in my marriage?” laughed Gesa.

”Ah your marriage!” The virtuoso started--”yes, your marriage.

Well--she is the most enchanting creature I have met since her mother.

What a voice--she could become a Malibran.”

”And?”--

They were standing now at the Place Royale. ”_Dieu merci_--there comes a carriage--I despaired of finding one,” cried de Sterny.

”Adieu,--bring me the whole of your 'Inferno' to-morrow,--auf Wiedersehen!”