Part 62 (1/2)
”_Beatissimi voi.
Che offriste il petto alle nemiche lance Per amor di costei che al sol vi diede_”--
to the joyous outburst of an exultant Allegro in--
”_Oh viva, oh viva: Beatissimi voi Mentre nel monde si favelli o scriva._”
When she had ended, Klesmer said after a moment--
”That is Joseph Leo's music.”
”Yes, he was my last master--at Vienna: so fierce and so good,” said Mirah, with a melancholy smile. ”He prophesied that my voice would not do for the stage. And he was right.”
”_Con_tinue, if you please,” said Klesmer, putting out his lips and shaking his long fingers, while he went on with a smothered articulation quite unintelligible to the audience.
The three girls detested him unanimously for not saying one word of praise. Mrs. Meyrick was a little alarmed.
Mirah, simply bent on doing what Klesmer desired, and imagining that he would now like to hear her sing some German, went through Prince Radzivill's music to Gretchen's songs in the ”Faust,” one after the other without any interrogatory pause. When she had finished he rose and walked to the extremity of the small s.p.a.ce at command, then walked back to the piano, where Mirah had risen from her seat and stood looking toward him with her little hands crossed before her, meekly awaiting judgment; then with a sudden unknitting of his brow and with beaming eyes, he stretched out his hand and said abruptly, ”Let us shake hands: you are a musician.”
Mab felt herself beginning to cry, and all the three girls held Klesmer adorable. Mrs. Meyrick took a long breath.
But straightway the frown came again, the long hand, back uppermost, was stretched out in quite a different sense to touch with finger-tip the back of Mirah's, and with protruded lip he said--
”Not for great tasks. No high roofs. We are no skylarks. We must be modest.” Klesmer paused here. And Mab ceased to think him adorable: ”as if Mirah had shown the least sign of conceit!”
Mirah was silent, knowing that there was a specific opinion to be waited for, and Klesmer presently went on--”I would not advise--I would not further your singing in any larger s.p.a.ce than a private drawing-room. But you will do there. And here in London that is one of the best careers open. Lessons will follow. Will you come and sing at a private concert at my house on Wednesday?”
”Oh, I shall be grateful,” said Mirah, putting her hands together devoutly. ”I would rather get my bread in that way than by anything more public. I will try to improve. What should I work at most?”
Klesmer made a preliminary answer in noises which sounded like words bitten in two and swallowed before they were half out, shaking his fingers the while, before he said, quite distinctly, ”I shall introduce you to Astorga: he is the foster-father of good singing and will give you advice.” Then addressing Mrs. Meyrick, he added, ”Mrs. Klesmer will call before Wednesday, with your permission.”
”We shall feel that to be a great kindness,” said Mrs. Meyrick.
”You will sing to her,” said Klesmer, turning again to Mirah. ”She is a thorough musician, and has a soul with more ears to it than you will often get in a musician. Your singing will satisfy her:--
'Vor den Wissenden sich stellen;'
you know the rest?”
”'Sicher ist's in alien Fallen.'”
said Mirah, promptly. And Klesmer saying ”Schon!” put out his hand again as a good-bye.
He had certainly chosen the most delicate way of praising Mirah, and the Meyrick girls had now given him all their esteem. But imagine Mab's feeling when suddenly fixing his eyes on her, he said decisively, ”That young lady is musical, I see!” She was a mere blush and sense of scorching.
”Yes,” said Mirah, on her behalf. ”And she has a touch.”
”Oh, please, Mirah--a scramble, not a touch,” said Mab, in anguish, with a horrible fear of what the next thing might be: this dreadful divining personage--evidently Satan in gray trousers--might order her to sit down to the piano, and her heart was like molten wax in the midst of her. But this was cheap payment for her amazed joy when Klesmer said benignantly, turning to Mrs. Meyrick, ”Will she like to accompany Miss Lapidoth and hear the music on Wednesday?”
”There could hardly be a greater pleasure for her,” said Mrs. Meyrick.
”She will be most glad and grateful.”
Thereupon Klesmer bowed round to the three sisters more grandly than they had ever been bowed to before. Altogether it was an amusing picture--the little room with so much of its diagonal taken up in Klesmer's magnificent bend to the small feminine figures like images a little less than life-size, the grave Holbein faces on the walls, as many as were not otherwise occupied, looking hard at this stranger who by his face seemed a dignified contemporary of their own, but whose garments seemed a deplorable mockery of the human form.