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Not only must he pay as much rent for a three-room tenement, with one room almost dark and one quite windowless, as he had had to pay, in London, for the comfortable floor which they had occupied in Soho, but food cost twice as much, he woefully declared and played the "Miserere" on his flute.
My dear Jokai, that's absurd. As for your singular indifference to the burning car that's easy. You'd stolen it. But why?" He smiled slightly and picked up his flute. With infinite softness a waltz danced lightly through the quiet room. To such a fanciful, eerie piping might the ghost of a child have danced.
In such a mood, in such a giddy hour, seated in person upon her car, in spirit upon her imagination, Fanny rode down the mountain into the night. She was invincible, inattentive to the voice of absent man, a hard, hollow goddess, a flute for the piping of heaven composing and chanting unmusical songs, her inner ear fastened upon another melody.
A cheerful quiet, a holy peace radiated from his beautiful face; his whole being seemed bathed in perfect harmony and contentment, and the soft, melting tones of his flute but echoed his thoughts. Suddenly he ceased playing, and slightly bowed his head to catch the sweet, dying notes that were still trembling in the air.
The first scene with the players is omitted, but the concluding portion is a triumph; for as Hamlet, arriving at the climax of his sarcasm, and bursting for a moment into rage, flings the flute away, with the exclamation: “S’blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?” the whole theatre rings with the applause.
"S'help me, Gov'nor, the wind's goin' through my teeth like I was a mouth organ and I'm hollow enough for a flute!" It is strange how, in moments of stress and trial, even in times of tragedy, the most commonplace thoughts will intrude themselves and the mind separate itself from the immediate events.
"If the old man wakes before I'm back again, don't hurry him off, mother; I'd be glad to talk with him a bit before he goes." "Who said anything about hurrying him off?" cried Mrs. Bade. "He can stay till doomsday, for all I care. He can sit and talk to me, while you're blowing on your flute. It'll be real companionable."
There was a little more talk about the gardens, and then they all sang together. The band delighted Nat, for Mrs. Bhaer played the piano, Franz the flute, Mr. Bhaer a bass viol, and he himself the violin.
The Anthesteria was held at that season of the year when, as Pindar sings in an ode composed to be sung upon the occasion, "the chamber of the Hours is opened and the blossoms hear the voice of the fragrant spring; when violet clusters are flung on the lap of earth, and chaplets of roses braided in the hair; when the sound of the flute is heard and choirs chanting hymns to Semele."
The threshold of this was reached, the sanctuary of its treasures unlocked, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who, without thought of being a reformer, unconsciously infused German spirit into Italian forms. It was during the last five years of his brief life, from 1786 to 1791, that he produced his operatic masterpieces, "The Marriage of Figaro," "Don Giovanni," and "The Magic Flute."
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