章节正文
arose and extended his hand wearily.
``Good-day'' came simultaneously;
then ``I'm off. We'll turn 'em
away to-morrow; see if we don't!''
Whereupon Perkins left Diotti alone in
his misery.
IV
It was the evening of the fourteenth,
In front of the Academy a strong-
lunged and insistent tribe of gentry,
known as ticket speculators, were reaping
a rich harvest. They represented a
beacon light of hope to many tardy patrons
of the evening's entertainment,
especially to the man who had forgotten
his wife's injunction ``to be sure
to buy the tickets on the way down
town, dear, and get them in the family
circle, not too far back.'' This man's
intentions were sincere, but his newspaper
was unusually interesting that morning.
He was deeply engrossed in an
article on the causes leading to matrimonial
infelicities when his 'bus passed
the Academy box-office.
He was six blocks farther down town
when he finished the article, only to
find that it was a carefully worded
advertisement for a new patent medicine,
and of course he had not time to
return. ``Oh, well,'' said he, ``I'll get
them when I go up town to-night.''
But he did not. So with fear in his
heart and a red-faced woman on his
arm he approached the box-office.
``Not a seat left,'' sounded to his hen-
pecked ears like the concluding words
of the black-robed judge: ``and may the
Lord have mercy upon your soul.'' But
a reprieve came, for one of the aforesaid
beacon lights of hope rushed forward,
saying: ``I have two good seats, not
far back, and only ten apiece.'' And
the gentleman with fear in his heart
and the red-faced woman on his arm
passed in.
They saw the largest crowd in the
history of the Academy. Every seat was
occupied, every foot of standing room
taken. Chairs were placed in the side
aisles. The programs announced that
it was the second appearance in America
of Angelo Diotti, the renowed Tuscan
violinist.
The orchestra had perfunctorily
ground out the overture to ``Der
Freischuetz,'' the baritone had stentorianly
emitted ``Dio Possente,'' the soprano
was working her way through the closing
measures of the mad scene from ``Lucia,''
and Diotti was number four on
the program. The conductor stood
beside his platform, ready to ascend as
Diotti appeared.
The audience, ever ready to act when
those on the stage cease that occupation,
gave a splendid imitation of the historic
last scene at the Tower of Babel.
Having accomplished this to its evident
satisfaction, the audience proceeded, like
the closing phrase of the
``Goetterdaemmerung'' Dead March, to become
exceedingly quiet--then expectant.
This expectancy lasted fully three
minutes. Then there were some impatient
handclappings. A few persons
whispered: ``Why is he late?'' ``Why
doesn't he come?'' ``I wonder where
Diotti is,'' and then came unmistakable
signs of impatience. At its height
Perkins appeared, hesitatingly. Nervous
and jerky he walked to the center of
the stage, and raised his hand begging
silence. The audience was stilled.
``Ladies and gentlemen,'' he falteringly
said, ``Signor Diotti left his hotel
at seven o'clock and was driven to the
Academy. The call-boy rapped at his
dressing-room, and not receiving a reply,
opened the door to find the room
empty. We have despatched searchers
in every direction and have sent out a
police alarm. We fear some accident
has befallen the Signor. We ask your
indulgence for the keen disappointment,
and beg to say that your money will be
refunded at the box-office.''
Diotti had disappeared as completely
as though the earth had swallowed him.
V
My Dearest Sister: You
doubtless were exceedingly mystified
and troubled over the report that
was flashed to Europe regarding my
sudden disappearance on the eve of my
second concert in New York.
Fearing, sweet Francesca, that you
might mourn me as dead, I sent the
cablegram you received some weeks
since, telling you to be of good heart
and await my letter. To make my action
thoroughly understood I must give
you a record of what happened to me
from the first day I arrived in
America. I found a great interest mani-
fested in my premiere, and socially
everything was done to make me happy.
Mrs. James Llewellyn, whom, you
no doubt remember, we met in Florence
the winter of 18--, immediately after I
reached New York arranged a reception
for me, which was elegant in the
extreme. But from that night dates
my misery.
You ask her name?--Mildred Wallace.
Tell me what she is like, I hear
you say. Of gracefulheight, willowy
and exquisitely molded, not over twenty-
four, with the face of a Madonna;
wondrous eyes of darkest blue, hair
indescribable in its maze of tawny color
--in a word, the perfection of womanhood.
In half an hour I was her abject
slave, and proud in my serfdom.
When I returned to the hotel that evening
I could not sleep. Her image ever
was before me, elusive and shadowy.
And yet we seemed to grow farther and
farther apart--she nearer heaven, I
nearer earth.
The next evening I gave my first and
what I fear may prove my last concert
in America. The vision of my dreams
was there, radiant in rarest beauty.
Singularly enough, she was in the direct
line of my vision while I played.
I saw only her, played but for her, and
cast my soul at her feet. She sat indifferent
and silent. ``Cold?'' you say. No!
No! Francesca, not cold; superior to
my poor efforts. I realized my
limitations. I questioned my genius. When
I returned to bow my acknowledgments
for the most generousapplause I have
ever received, there was no sign on her
part that I had interested her, either
through my talent or by appeal to her
curiosity. I hoped against hope that
some word might come from her, but I
was doomed to disappointment. The
critics were fulsome in their praise and
the public was lavish with its plaudits,
but I was abjectly miserable. Another
sleepless night and I was determined to
see her. She received me most
graciously, although I fear she thought my
visit one of vanity--wounded vanity--
and me petulant because of her lack of
appreciation.
Oh, sister mine, I knew better. I
knew my heart craved one word, however
matter-of-fact, that would rekindle
the hope that was dying within me.
Hesitatingly, and like a clumsy yokel,
I blurted: ``I have been wondering
whether you cared for the performance
I gave?''
``It certainly ought to make little
difference to you,'' she replied; ``the
public was enthusiastic enough in its
endorsement.''
``But I want your opinion,'' I pleaded.
``My opinion would not at all affect
the almost unanimousverdict, ``she
replied calmly.
``And,'' I urged desperately, ``you
were not affected in the least?''
Very coldly she answered, ``Not in
the least;'' and then fearlessly, like a
princess in the Palace of Truth: ``If
ever a man comes who can awaken my
heart, frankly and honestly I will
confess it.''
``Perhaps such a one lives,'' I said,
but has yet to reach the height to win
you--your--''
``Speak it,'' she said, ``to win my
love!''
``Yes,'' I cried, startled at her
candor, ``to win your love.'' Hope slowly
rekindled within my breast, and then
``Good-day'' came simultaneously;
then ``I'm off. We'll turn 'em
away to-morrow; see if we don't!''
Whereupon Perkins left Diotti alone in
his misery.
IV
It was the evening of the fourteenth,
In front of the Academy a strong-
lunged and insistent tribe of gentry,
known as ticket speculators, were reaping
a rich harvest. They represented a
beacon light of hope to many tardy patrons
of the evening's entertainment,
especially to the man who had forgotten
his wife's injunction ``to be sure
to buy the tickets on the way down
town, dear, and get them in the family
circle, not too far back.'' This man's
intentions were sincere, but his newspaper
was unusually interesting that morning.
He was deeply engrossed in an
article on the causes leading to matrimonial
infelicities when his 'bus passed
the Academy box-office.
He was six blocks farther down town
when he finished the article, only to
find that it was a carefully worded
advertisement for a new patent medicine,
and of course he had not time to
return. ``Oh, well,'' said he, ``I'll get
them when I go up town to-night.''
But he did not. So with fear in his
heart and a red-faced woman on his
arm he approached the box-office.
``Not a seat left,'' sounded to his hen-
pecked ears like the concluding words
of the black-robed judge: ``and may the
Lord have mercy upon your soul.'' But
a reprieve came, for one of the aforesaid
beacon lights of hope rushed forward,
saying: ``I have two good seats, not
far back, and only ten apiece.'' And
the gentleman with fear in his heart
and the red-faced woman on his arm
passed in.
They saw the largest crowd in the
history of the Academy. Every seat was
occupied, every foot of standing room
taken. Chairs were placed in the side
aisles. The programs announced that
it was the second appearance in America
of Angelo Diotti, the renowed Tuscan
violinist.
The orchestra had perfunctorily
ground out the overture to ``Der
Freischuetz,'' the baritone had stentorianly
emitted ``Dio Possente,'' the soprano
was working her way through the closing
measures of the mad scene from ``Lucia,''
and Diotti was number four on
the program. The conductor stood
beside his platform, ready to ascend as
Diotti appeared.
The audience, ever ready to act when
those on the stage cease that occupation,
gave a splendid imitation of the historic
last scene at the Tower of Babel.
Having accomplished this to its evident
satisfaction, the audience proceeded, like
the closing phrase of the
``Goetterdaemmerung'' Dead March, to become
exceedingly quiet--then expectant.
This expectancy lasted fully three
minutes. Then there were some impatient
handclappings. A few persons
whispered: ``Why is he late?'' ``Why
doesn't he come?'' ``I wonder where
Diotti is,'' and then came unmistakable
signs of impatience. At its height
Perkins appeared, hesitatingly. Nervous
and jerky he walked to the center of
the stage, and raised his hand begging
silence. The audience was stilled.
``Ladies and gentlemen,'' he falteringly
said, ``Signor Diotti left his hotel
at seven o'clock and was driven to the
Academy. The call-boy rapped at his
dressing-room, and not receiving a reply,
opened the door to find the room
empty. We have despatched searchers
in every direction and have sent out a
police alarm. We fear some accident
has befallen the Signor. We ask your
indulgence for the keen disappointment,
and beg to say that your money will be
refunded at the box-office.''
Diotti had disappeared as completely
as though the earth had swallowed him.
V
My Dearest Sister: You
doubtless were exceedingly mystified
and troubled over the report that
was flashed to Europe regarding my
sudden disappearance on the eve of my
second concert in New York.
Fearing, sweet Francesca, that you
might mourn me as dead, I sent the
cablegram you received some weeks
since, telling you to be of good heart
and await my letter. To make my action
thoroughly understood I must give
you a record of what happened to me
from the first day I arrived in
America. I found a great interest mani-
fested in my premiere, and socially
everything was done to make me happy.
Mrs. James Llewellyn, whom, you
no doubt remember, we met in Florence
the winter of 18--, immediately after I
reached New York arranged a reception
for me, which was elegant in the
extreme. But from that night dates
my misery.
You ask her name?--Mildred Wallace.
Tell me what she is like, I hear
you say. Of gracefulheight, willowy
and exquisitely molded, not over twenty-
four, with the face of a Madonna;
wondrous eyes of darkest blue, hair
indescribable in its maze of tawny color
--in a word, the perfection of womanhood.
In half an hour I was her abject
slave, and proud in my serfdom.
When I returned to the hotel that evening
I could not sleep. Her image ever
was before me, elusive and shadowy.
And yet we seemed to grow farther and
farther apart--she nearer heaven, I
nearer earth.
The next evening I gave my first and
what I fear may prove my last concert
in America. The vision of my dreams
was there, radiant in rarest beauty.
Singularly enough, she was in the direct
line of my vision while I played.
I saw only her, played but for her, and
cast my soul at her feet. She sat indifferent
and silent. ``Cold?'' you say. No!
No! Francesca, not cold; superior to
my poor efforts. I realized my
limitations. I questioned my genius. When
I returned to bow my acknowledgments
for the most generousapplause I have
ever received, there was no sign on her
part that I had interested her, either
through my talent or by appeal to her
curiosity. I hoped against hope that
some word might come from her, but I
was doomed to disappointment. The
critics were fulsome in their praise and
the public was lavish with its plaudits,
but I was abjectly miserable. Another
sleepless night and I was determined to
see her. She received me most
graciously, although I fear she thought my
visit one of vanity--wounded vanity--
and me petulant because of her lack of
appreciation.
Oh, sister mine, I knew better. I
knew my heart craved one word, however
matter-of-fact, that would rekindle
the hope that was dying within me.
Hesitatingly, and like a clumsy yokel,
I blurted: ``I have been wondering
whether you cared for the performance
I gave?''
``It certainly ought to make little
difference to you,'' she replied; ``the
public was enthusiastic enough in its
endorsement.''
``But I want your opinion,'' I pleaded.
``My opinion would not at all affect
the almost unanimousverdict, ``she
replied calmly.
``And,'' I urged desperately, ``you
were not affected in the least?''
Very coldly she answered, ``Not in
the least;'' and then fearlessly, like a
princess in the Palace of Truth: ``If
ever a man comes who can awaken my
heart, frankly and honestly I will
confess it.''
``Perhaps such a one lives,'' I said,
but has yet to reach the height to win
you--your--''
``Speak it,'' she said, ``to win my
love!''
``Yes,'' I cried, startled at her
candor, ``to win your love.'' Hope slowly
rekindled within my breast, and then
- academy [ə´kædəmi]
n.专科学校；学会；协会 (初中英语单词) - harvest [´hɑ:vist] n.&v.收获；收割 (初中英语单词)
- sincere [sin´siə] a.真挚的；直率的 (初中英语单词)
- patent [´peitənt, ´pæ-] a.专利的 n.专利品 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- program [´prəugræm] n.说明v.为...安排节目 (初中英语单词)
- conductor [kən´dʌktə] n.指导者；向导者 (初中英语单词)
- platform [´plætfɔ:m] n.(平)台；讲台；站台 (初中英语单词)
- ascend [ə´send] v.登；上升；追溯 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- phrase [freiz] n.短语；词组；措词 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- graceful [´greisfəl] a.优美的，流畅的 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- genius [´dʒi:niəs] n.天才(人物)；天赋 (初中英语单词)
- generous [´dʒenərəs] a.慷慨的；丰盛的 (初中英语单词)
- talent [´tælənt] n.天才；才干；天资 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- coldly [´kəuldli] ad.冷淡地 (初中英语单词)
- awaken [ə´weikən] v.唤起，叫醒 (初中英语单词)
- frankly [´fræŋkli] ad.直率地；慷慨地 (初中英语单词)
- honestly [´ɔnistli] ad.诚实地，老实地 (初中英语单词)
- orchestra [´ɔ:kistrə] n.管弦乐队 (高中英语单词)
- imitation [,imi´teiʃən] n.模仿；仿制品；赝品 (高中英语单词)
- exceedingly [ik´si:diŋli] ad.非常地，极度地 (高中英语单词)
- regarding [ri´gɑ:diŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- elegant [´eligənt] a.文雅的；优美的 (高中英语单词)
- perfection [pə´fekʃən] n.完美；极致；熟练 (高中英语单词)
- radiant [´reidiənt] a.发光的 n.光源(体) (高中英语单词)
- applause [ə´plɔ:z] n.鼓掌；欢呼；称赞 (高中英语单词)
- appeal [ə´pi:l] vi.&n.请求；呼吁；上诉 (高中英语单词)
- clumsy [´klʌmzi] a.笨拙的；粗俗的 (高中英语单词)
- enthusiastic [inθju:zi´æstik] a.热情的，热心的 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- injunction [in´dʒʌŋkʃən] n.指令；法院禁令 (英语四级单词)
- unusually [ʌn´ju:ʒuəli] ad.异常地；非常 (英语四级单词)
- accomplished [ə´kʌmpliʃt] a.完成了的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- impatience [im´peiʃəns] n.不耐烦，急躁 (英语四级单词)
- befallen [bi´fɔ:lən] befall的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- lavish [´læviʃ] a.慷慨的；浪费的 (英语四级单词)
- unanimous [ju:´næniməs] a.一致同意的 (英语四级单词)
- verdict [´və:dikt] n.裁决，判决；判定 (英语四级单词)
- extended [iks´tendid] a.伸长的；广大的 (英语六级单词)
- insistent [in´sistənt] a.坚持的；逼人注意的 (英语六级单词)
- disappearance [,disə´piərəns] n.消失；失踪 (英语六级单词)
- exquisitely [´ekswizit] ad.精巧地，优美地 (英语六级单词)
- affected [ə´fektid] a.做作的；假装的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
