Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3) - Richard Harding Davis (reading diary .txt) 📗
- Author: Richard Harding Davis
Book online «Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3) - Richard Harding Davis (reading diary .txt) 📗». Author Richard Harding Davis
Edouard An Added Power; His Head Lifted On His Shoulders With Pride;
His Bow Cut Deeper And Firmer, And With More Delicate Shading; The
Notes Rose In Thrilling, Plaintive Sadness, And Flooded The Hot Air
With Melody.
Edouard Made His Way To Within A Short Distance Of The Table At Which
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 104Miss Warriner Was Seated, And Halted There As Though He Had Found His
Audience. He Did Not Look At Her, Although She Sat Directly Facing
Him, But It Was Evident To All That She Was The One To Whom His
Effort Was Directed, And Corbin, Who Was Seated With His Back To
Edouard, Recognized This And Turned In His Chair.
The Body Of The Young Musician Was Trembling With The Feeling Which
Found Its Outlet Through The Violin. He Was In Ecstasy Over His Power
And Its Accomplishment. The Strings Of The Violin Pulsated To The
Beating Of His Heart, And He Felt That Surely By Now The Emotion
Which Shook Him Must Have Reached The Girl Who Had Given It Life--
And, For One Swift Second, His Eyes Sought Hers. What He Saw Was The
Same Beautiful Face Which Had Inspired Him, But Unmoved, Cold, And
Unresponsive. As His Eyes Followed Hers She Raised Her Head And
Looked, Listlessly, Around The Room, And Then Turned And Glanced Up
At Him With A Careless And Critical Scrutiny. If His Music Had Been
The Music Of An Organ In The Street, And He The Man Who Raised His
Hat For Coppers, She Could Not Have Been Less Moved. The Discovery
Struck Edouard Like A Cold Blast From An Open Door. His Fingers
Faltered On The Neck Of His Violin, His Bow Wavered, Drunkenly,
Across The Strings, And He Turned Away His Eyes To Shut Out The
Vision Of His Failure, Seeking Relief And Sympathy. And, In Their
Swift Passage, They Encountered Those Of Corbin Looking Up At Him,
His Eyes Aglow With Wonder, Feeling, And Sorrow. They Seemed To Hold
Him To Account; They Begged, They Demanded Of Him Not To Break The
Spell, And, In Response, The Hot Blood In The Veins Of The Musician
Surged Back, His Pride Flared Up Again, His Eyes Turned On Corbin's
Like Those Of A Dog To His Master's. Under Their Spell The Music
Soared, Trembling, Paused And Soared Again, Thrilling Those Who Heard
It With Its Grief And Tenderness.
Edouard's Heart Leaped With Triumph. "The Man Knows," He Whispered To
The Violin; "He Understands Us. He Knows."
The People, Leaning With Their Elbows On The Tables Before Them, The
Waiters Listening With Tolerant Smiles, The Musicians Following
Edouard With Anxious Pride, Saw Only A Young Man With His Arm Thrown
Heavily Across The Back Of His Chair, Who Was Looking Up At Edouard
With A Steady, Searching Gaze. But Edouard Saw In Him Both A Disciple
And A Master. He Saw That This Man Was Lifted Up And Carried With
Him, That He Understood The Message Of The Music. The Notes Of The
Violin Sank Lower And Lower, Until They Melted Into The Silence Of
The Room, And The People, Freed Of The Spell The Music Had Put Upon
Them, Applauded Generously. Edouard Placed His Violin Under His Arm,
And With His Eyes, Which Had Never Left Corbin's Face, Still Fastened
Upon His, Bowed Low To Him, And Corbin Raised His Head And Nodded
Gravely. It Was As Though They Were The Only People In The Room. As
Edouard Retreated His Face Was Shining With Triumph, For He Knew That
The Other Had Understood Him, And That The Other Knew That He Knew.
That Night Until He Fell Asleep, And All Of The Day Following, The
Beautiful Face Of Miss Warriner Troubled Edouard, And The Thought Of
Her Alternately Thrilled And Depressed Him. One Moment He Mocked At
Himself For Presuming To Think That His Simple Art Could Reach The
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 105Depths Of Such A Nature, And The Next He Stirred Himself To Hope That
He Should See Her Once Again, And That He Should Succeed Where He Had
Failed.
The Music Had Moved Corbin So Deeply That When He Awoke The Day
Following The Effect Of It Still Hung Upon Him. It Seemed To Him As
Though All He Had Been Trying To Tell Miss Warriner Of His Love For
Her, And Which He Had Failed To Make Her Understand In The Last Three
Months, Had Been Expressed In The One Moment Of This Song. It Was
That In It Which Had So Enchanted Him. It Was As Though He Had
Listened To His Own Deepest And Most Sacred Thoughts, Uttered For The
First Time Convincingly, And By A Stranger. Why Was It, He Asked
Himself, That This Unknown Youth Could Translate Another's Feelings
Into Music, When He Himself Could Not Put Them Into Words? He Was
Walking In Piccadilly, Deep In This Thought, When A Question Came To
Him Which Caused Him To Turn Rapidly Into Green Park, Where He Could
Consider It Undisturbed.
The Doubt Which Had So Suddenly Presented Itself Was In Some Degree
The Same One Which Had Stirred Edouard. Was It That He Was Really
Unable To Express His Feelings, Or Was It That Miss Warriner Could
Not Understand Them? Was It Really Something Lacking In Him, Or Was
It Not Something Lacking In Her? He Flushed At The Disloyalty Of The
Thought And Put It From Him; But, As His Memory Reached Back Over The
Past Three Months, The Question Returned Again And Again With Fresh
Force, And Would Not Be Denied. He Called Himself A Fatuous,
Conceited Fool. Because He Could Not Make A Woman Love Him Other Men
Could Do So. That Was Really The Answer; He Was Not The Man. But The
Answer Did Not Seem Final. What, After All, Was The Thing His Love
Sought--A Woman Only, Or A Woman Capable Of Deep And Great Feeling?
Even If He Could Not Inspire Such Emotions, Even If Another Could, He
Would Still Be Content And Proud To Love A Woman Capable Of Such Deep
Feelings. But If She Were Without Them? At The Thought, Corbin Stared
Blankly Before Him As Though He Had Stumbled Against A Stone Wall.
What Sign Had She Ever Given Him That She Could Care Greatly? Was Not
Any Form Of Emotion Always Distasteful To Her? Was Not Her Mind
Always Occupied With Abstract Questions? Was She Not Always Engaged
In Her Own Self-Improvement--With Schemes, It Is True, For Bettering
The World; But Did Her Heart Ever Ache Once For The Individual? What
Was It, Then, He Loved? Something He Imagined This Girl To Be, Or Was
He In Love With The Fact That His Own Nature Had Been So Mightily
Stirred? Was It Not The Joy Of Caring Greatly Which Had Carried Him
Along? And If This Was So, Was He Now To Continue To Proffer This
Devotion To One Who Could Not Feel, To A Statue, To An Idol? Were Not
The Very Things Which Rendered Her Beautiful The Offerings Which He
Himself Had Hung Upon Her Altar? Did The Qualities He Really Loved In
Her Exist? Was He Not On The Brink Of Casting His Love Before One Who
Could Neither Feel It For Him Nor For Any Other Man? He Stood Up,
Trembling And Frightened. Even Though The Girl Had Rejected Him Again
And Again, He Felt A Hateful Sense Of Disloyalty. He Was Ashamed To
Confess It To Himself, And He Vowed, Hotly, That He Must Be Wrong,
That He Would Not Believe. He Would Still Worship Her, Fight For Her,
And Force Her To Care For Him.
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 106
Mrs. Warriner And Her Daughter Were To Sail On The Morrow, And That
Night They Met Corbin At Dinner For The Last Time. After Many Days--
Although Self-Accused--He Felt Deeply Conscious Of His Recent Lack Of
Faith, And, In The Few Hours Still Left Him, He Determined To Atone
For The Temporary Halt In His Allegiance. They Had Never Found Him
More Eager, Tactful, And Considerate Than He Was That Evening. The
Eyes Of Mrs. Warriner Softened As She Watched Him. As One Day Had
Succeeded Another, Her Admiration And Liking For Him Had Increased,
Until Now She Felt As Though His Cause Was Hers--As Though She Was
Not Parting From A Friend, But From A Son. But The Calmness Of Her
Daughter Was Impenetrable; From Her Manner It Was Impossible To Learn
Whether The Approaching Separation Was A Relief Or A Regret.
To Edouard The Return Of The Beautiful Girl To The Restaurant
Appeared Not As An Accident, But As A Marked Favor Vouchsafed To Him
By Fate. He Had Been Given A Second Chance. He Read It As A Sign That
He Should Take Heart And Hope. He Felt That Fortune Was Indeed Kind.
He Determined That He Would Play To Her Again, And That This Time He
Would Not Fail.
As The First Notes Of La Lettre D'amour Brought A Pause Of Silence In
The Restaurant, Corbin, Who Was Talking At The Moment, Interrupted
Himself Abruptly, And Turned In His Chair.
All Through The Evening He Had Been Conscious Of The Near Presence Of
The Young Musician. He Had Not Forgotten How, On The Night Before,
His Own Feelings Had Been Interpreted In La Lettre D'amour, And For
Some Time He Had Been Debating In His Mind As To Whether He Would
Request Edouard To Play The Air Again, Or Let The Evening Pass
Without Again Submitting Himself To So Supreme An Assault Upon His
Feelings. Now The Question Had Been Settled For Him, And He Found
That It Had Been Decided As He Secretly Desired. It Was Impossible To
Believe That Edouard Was The Same Young Man Who Had Played The Same
Air On The Night Previous, For Edouard No Longer Considered That He
Was Present On Sufferance--He Invited And Challenged The Attention Of
The Room; His Music Commanded It To Silence. It Dominated All Who
Heard It.
As He Again Slowly Approached The Table Where Miss Warriner Was
Seated, The Eyes Of Everyone Were Turned Upon Him; The Pathos, The
Tenderness Of His Message Seemed To Speak To Each; The Fact That He
Dared To Offer Such A Wealth Of Deep Feeling To Such An Audience Was
In Itself Enough To Engage The Attention Of All. A Group Of
Guardsmen, Their Faces Flushed With Burgundy And Pulling Heavily On
Black Cigars,
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