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Here his thoughts became disconnected, and wandered beyond his control. He let them go, and listened, instead of thinking, to the notes of the nightingale singing in his garden. It was now being answered by others at a distance, with incessant repetitions of a flute-like warble, and then came the long sobbing trill and cry of love, piercing the night with insistant passion.
She had paused for breath round the buttress of a gray crag when she noticed the churn of yeasty blackness blotting out the Valley and felt the hushed heat of the air. A jack rabbit went whipping past at long bounds. The last rasp of a jay's scold jangled out from the trees. Then, she heard from the hushed Valley, the low flute trill of a blue bird's love song.
And then the Shadow, with that wonderful power of accurate mimicry which is so strong in all natural human beings, began to trill out at once, with a very good Parisian accent, a few lines from a well-known song in "La Fille de Madame Angot:"
For music to be heard constantly, right under one's window, it could scarcely be improved; sweet, brief, and remarkably unobtrusive, without sharpness or emphasis; a trill not altogether unlike the pine-creeping warbler's, but less matter-of-fact and business-like. I used to listen to it before I rose in the morning, and it was to be heard at intervals all day long.
The ground grew moist and green, and flowers abounded, many of them new to me, and so lovely and fragrant that in my admiration for them I almost forgot my pain. The sun went down, but no house appeared in sight. Over the western heavens flamed the brilliant hues of the afterglow, and from the long grass came the sad, monotonous trill of some night insect.
The composer, of course, wastes no music upon her; flinging to her only an occasional recitative in two notes, but always ending in a reef of a scale, trill, or roulade, for her to wreck her voice on before the audience.
She laughed with discordant gaiety. "Really, for the moment I thought I was being punished," replied May. And she too laughed, a melodious trill. A quarter of an hour passed. Lady Ogram presented herself at the library door, and saw May reading, whilst Constance Bride sat writing at the table. "Come, both of you!"
Calling the chairman "an old messer," and telling him for Gawd's sake to shut up if that was all he could do for his living, she came down to the front, and took the case into her own hands. She did not waste time on the rest of the audience. She went direct for that coalheaver, and thereupon ensued a slanging match the memory of which sends a trill of admiration through me even to this day.
An artistic staccato should, like the trill, be plastic and under control; for different schools of composition demand different styles of treatment of such details. "Octaves the unison, not broken I did not find difficult; but though they are supposed to add volume of tone they sound hideous to me.
Another trill of nervous laughter, and then a burst of earnest English: "But tell me, you've come for good you are not going back to " "No, I am not going back to the Brotherhood, Glory." How friendly his low voice sounded! "And you?" "Well, I've left the hospital, you see." "Yes, I see," he said.
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