tudy” he inquire●d.
“In New York,” I answered.
“Hav●e you ever played
Grid and Columns
“Not at▓ any large affairs.”
“Do you teach”
▓ “I used to.”
“What—what di▓d you say your name was”
“Hum, it is odd I haven’t he▓ard of you.Have you been in New York long▓”
“All my life.”
“Oh●, yes; you said you
01 One Fourth
studied here.Who were▓ your masters”
I named them.
The ▓doctor’s face had been inscru●table.Merivale and I had sat on pins during the● inquisition.Now the doctor’s face lighte▓d up with a genial smile.
“You will do, ▓Mr.Lexow,” he said.“I don
02 One Fourth
’t k▓now whom to thank the more, you or▓ Mr.Merivale.You have relie●ved me in a very trying emergency.Your pla▓ying is fine, though perhaps a trif▓le too independent, a trifle too indivi●dual, and the least tone too florid.It i▓s odd, most odd that I shoul
03 One Fourth
d never have hea▓rd of you; but we shall all hear● of you in the future.”
We agreed upon ▓the selections for the evening.I ran them thr●ough in the doctor’s presence and listened● to his suggestions.Then we bad▓e him good-by.
That day was a trying o?/p>
04 One Fourth
坣e.It would be bootless to catalogue the ●conflicting thoughts and emotions that preyed▓ upon me.I practiced my pieces thor●oughly.Merivale busied himself procurin▓g what he styled a “rig.” The rig▓ consisted of an evening suit and i●ts accessories.He ren
01 One Half
ted one at a● costumer’s on union square.As the day● drew to a close, I worried more and more.“Br▓ace up,” cried Merivale.“Where’s y▓our stamina And here, swallow a glass of br●andy.”
We waited in the a▓nte-room till it was my turn to go upon● the
02 One Half
I was conscious▓ of a glow of light and a sea of▓ faces and a mortal stage-frigh●t, and of little else, when finally I had t▓aken my position.The orchestra played ●the preliminary bars.I had to begin.I got thr▓ough the first phrase and the secon
01 One Third
d.The vo●ice of my instrument reassured m▓e.“After all you will not make a de▓ad failure,” I thought, and ventured● to lift my eyes.Not two yard▓s distant from me, to my right, amo▓ng the first violins, sat Mr.Tikulski.His gaz▓e was riveted upon my face.
02 One Third
I had anticipated▓ about every catastrophe that could possib▓ly befall, but strangely enoug▓h I had not anticipated this.And it was● so sudden, and the emotions it occ▓asioned were so powerful, and I w▓as so nervous and unstrung—we●ll, the floor gave a
03 One Third
lurch, ●like the deck of a vessel in a storm; the lights● dashed backward and forward before my s●ight; a deathly sickness overspread● my senses; the accompaniment of the orchest▓ra became harsh and incoherent; my violin droppe▓d with a crash upon the boards
; and th▓e next thing I was aware of, ●I lay at full length on a sofa in the retirin●g-room, and Merivale was holding a smelling-bo▓ttle to my nostrils.I could● hear the orchestra beyond the partition in●dustriously winding off the Tannh▓auser march.
“How do you feel
- to answer it; and prese
- ntly● back she
- came bearing a note for
- h●er father.The docto
- r took it and a●sked permissi
- on to read it and b●roke it open.
- You know what a nervous● litt
- le man he is.Well, the n▓ext mome
- nt he began to grow red,
- and his nostril
- ▓s dilated, and his eye
- s flashed fire●, and
- then he crumpled up the paper and ▓stamped hi
- s foot and uttered a tre●mendous imprec
“Oh, pray, don〃埊t stop,” I sai
” as▓ked Merivale, as I opened my▓ eyes.
“I feel as though I should▓ like to annihilate myself,” I answered, a▓s memory cleared up.“I have permanent▓ly disgraced us both.”
“But what was● the trouble You were doing nobly, splendi●dly, when all of a sudden you
collap●sed like that,” clapping his hand
s▓.“The doctor is furious, says ▓it was all my fault.” “No, it wa●sn’t your fault,” I hastened to put in.▓ “I should h
- d, as he paused for breath.“?/li>
- 圷our narrative becomes thrilling.
“Well,▓ sir,” resumed Mer
- ivale, “I g●ot quite alarmed
ave pulled through after a fashion●, only
unluckily I caught sight of Tikulski—h▓er uncle, you know—in the orchestra; and, we▓ll, I—I suppose—well, you see it wa▓
- d up to the doc●tor’s side a
- nd ‘For mercy’s ●sake, what’s
- the matter—no bad ne●ws, I hope,
- ’ said I.‘Bad news’▓ says
s so unexpected that it rather undid me.”
▓“Oh, yes; I understand,” said he.
We ▓kept silence all the way home in the carriage.
Next morning, as I entered
- should think it w●as bad news
- ,’ giving his mane a toss▓.‘To-
- day is Friday, isn’t it To-day we
- ●had our public rehearsal.To
● the sitting-room, Merivale tried to hide
a news▓paper under his coat.
“O▓h, don’t bother to do that,” I said.〃埌Of course it is all in print”
- ●night we have our concert.Go
- od.Well, no●w at the eleventh hou
- r what happens W●hy, the soloist
- sends word that “●a sudden i
yself of the newspaper, I had▓ the satisfaction of reading a s●ensational account of my fiasco.But wh▓at I had most dreaded from the qu●arter of the newspapers had not come to pa▓ss.None of them identified me as the Er●nest Neuman who, rather more th▓an two years since,
had been trie▓d for murder.
MY encounte●r with Tikulski was bound to h●ave consequences, practical ●as well as moral.All day Sunday ●a legion of blue devils were my comrades.● Late Monday afternoon I received by the ●post a letter and a package, each addre
ssed● to “E.Lexow, in care of D.Me●rivale, Esq.” The penmanship was the same on bo▓th—a stiff European hand which▓ I coul
d not recognize.I bega▓n with the letter.It read t●hus:—
“I should have forwarded this
●to you before, but not apprised o●f the alteration of your name, I was unab●le to discover your address.I dispatch this▓ to