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Her "Dramatic Overture" was given by the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1893, and in the same year Theodore Thomas performed her overture, "Witichis." Still another overture, "Totila," is in manuscript. An orchestral ballade won much success in Baltimore in 1901. She has also written an orchestral cantata, a string quartette, and several works for violin and piano.
"Sit up, can't you?" he went on, giving another shake to the murdered body. "Tread out that fire, Nick!" But Nick was better employed; he was quietly taking Villon's purse, as the poet sat, limp and trembling, on the stool where he had been making a ballade not three minutes before.
Indeed, there can be no better pastime for a lonely man than the mechanical exercise of verse. Such intricate forms as Charles had been used to from childhood, the ballade with its scanty rhymes; the rondel, with the recurrence first of the whole, then of half the burthen, in thirteen verses, seem to have been invented for the prison and the sick-bed.
The rhymer's eyes widened as he drew breath to blow forth the envoi of his ballade. "Louis the Little, play the grand; Buffet the foe with sword and lance; 'Tis what would happen, by this hand, If Villon were the King of France!" A roar of enthusiasm came from the full throats of the band. Montigny slapped Villon on the back with a "Well crowed, Chanticleer!"
The second appearance of the latter leads to an urging, restless coda in A minor, which closes in the same key and pianissimo with a few bars of the simple, serene, now veiled first strain." Rubinstein bore great love for this second Ballade.
Canale surpasses himself here, for he loved State ceremonies; he gives a paragraph to the advance of each gild, its salutation and withdrawal, and the cumulative effect of all the paragraphs is enchanting, like a prose ballade, with a repeated refrain at the end of every verse.
Some said of this, and some said of that, but in the long run it was decided by the narrow majority of eight in a full house that Nothing was the only proper material out of which to make this World of theirs, and out of Nothing they made it: as it says in the Ballade: Dear, tenuous stuff, of which the world was made.
After they had returned aboard and just as I was laboriously undressing, I heard music floating across from Mary's. It was the same sweet, entrancing, will-o'-the wisp music that her touch always created. But to-night, she played the shadowy, mysterious, light and elusive Ballade No. 3 of Chopin.
So he straddled, grumbling, and cut the room in half with the shadow of his portly frame. On the right, Villon and Guy Tabary were huddled together over a scrap of parchment; Villon making a ballade which he was to call the "Ballade of Roast Fish," and Tabary sputtering admiration at his shoulder. The poet was a rag of a man, dark, little, and lean, with hollow cheeks and thin black locks.
From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized? as it had been those other times?
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