Violets and Violin Strings, Part I [pp. 468-477]

VIOLETS AND VIOLIN STRINGS.
tell you that his execution inspired me
with such an awe of him and such a
wholesome contempt of my own performances, that when I seated myself at
the piano and he opened for me a book
of finger-exercises and scales, I meekly,
without one rebellious impulse, commenced playing, and continued through the
lesson. But this man, so full of poetry,
music, and passion when he is playing,
congeals the moment he ceases. He is
terrible in his icy coldness. Aunt Sophia was afraid that he might be presuming, being a foreigner and a German.
She need have no fears. I really felt
presuming myself when, Friday, I ventured to ask him to play for me after the
lesson was over. He did so, however,
very graciously, and left me in the seventh heaven again. He is certainly a
most perfect gentleman; and even you,
Ad6le, would call him handsome-critical as you are on all points of personal
beauty. He is not the least effeminate,
as so many gentleman-musicians are.
He impresses one with a sense of spiritual power; and his slender, tapering fingers, which at times produce a strain so
soft that it is like the dream of a sound,
have also, when needed, a terrible force
and power in their rose-pink tips. Aunt
Sophia came into the room to-day when
I was taking my lesson. If she could
read all I have written to you, I think
it would be my last. It is such a comfort to be able to write you every thought
-it is like having another self. I have
read somewhere that as long as one can
reveal every thought to a friend, they
need have no fear of themselves.
Aunt Sophia has a sewing-girl now,
who is certainly one of the saddest-looking persons I ever saw. The would be
quite pretty were she not so exceedingly
pale- even her lips are blanched and
colorless. She quite interests me. She
is a German, and speaks English with
the prettiest accent. Do you know, I
like English a great deal better with a
foreign accent?-it makes it sweeter and
less brusque. Yesterday, I was in the
room with her a long time while she was
fitting my dress, and she told me a good
deal of her history. She came to this
country two years ago, expecting to meet
her betrothed and be married; but she
did not find him, as she expected, waiting for her when the ship landed, nor
did she meet him afterward, and so
was forced to believe him faithless. It
was not until nearly a year had passed
that she discovered, by chance, that he
had died of a fever the week before
the ship arrived. Wasn't that terrible?
How true it is that there are tragic elements enough even in the most commonplace lives to make a thrilling romance. She said she only longed for
one thing before she died, and that was
to hear sung again an old German folksong. I mean to ask the professor to
play one for me some time, when I feel
a little better acquainted with him.
I wait for a letter from you with the
greatest impatience, dearest Addle. Until then, adieu. ]ELISE HnGEMAN.
I 874.]
477