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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Now for the rest of the toast, to the one you love and who loves you," came from Sanders. "To the one I love and who loves me, God bless her!" fervently cried the guest. "Is she a Tuscan?" asked old Sanders slyly. "She is an angel!" impetuously answered the violinist. "Then she is an American!" said the old man gallantly. "She is an American," repeated Diotti, forgetting himself for the instant.
The old man, seating himself in a large armchair, said: "Mildred, my dear, I do not wonder at the enormous success of this Diotti." "He is a wonderful artist," replied Mildred; "critics and public alike place him among the greatest of his profession." "He is a good-looking young fellow, too," said the old man. "I think he is the handsomest man I ever have seen," replied the girl.
"Foolish fellow," retorted Sanders, skeptically; "women imagine, they don't reason. A scented note unopened on the dressing table can cause more unhappiness to your wife than the loss of his country to a king. My advice to you is: do not marry; but if you must, choose one who is more interested in your gastronomic felicity than in your marital constancy." Diotti was silent.
All this preliminary, and it is but necessary to recall that on the evening of December the twelfth Diotti made his initial bow in New York, to an audience that completely filled every available space in the Academy of Music a representative audience, distinguished alike for beauty, wealth and discernment.
Perkins jumped like one shot from a catapult, and rushing toward the silent figure in the doorway exclaimed: "Bless my soul, are you a ghost?" "A substantial one," said Diotti with a smile. "Are you really here?" continued the astonished impresario, using Diotti's arm as a pump handle and pinching him at the same time.
He is a hard nut to crack, but he did himself proud this time. Great critic when he wants to be." Perkins cleared his throat and began: "Diotti combines tremendous feeling with equally tremendous technique. The entire audience was under the witchery of his art." Diotti slowly negatived that statement with bowed head.
The conductor stood beside his platform, ready to ascend as Diotti appeared. The audience, ever ready to act when those on the stage cease that occupation, gave a splendid imitation of the historic last scene at the Tower of Babel.
Your position will be stronger with Mildred if you show no open opposition to the man or his aspirations; bring us together at your house some evening, and if I can not enter a wedge of discontent, then they are not as others." Mildred was delighted when her father told her on his return in the evening that he was anxious to meet Signor Diotti, and suggested a dinner party within a few days.
But no one in my domain not I, myself can play upon it now, for it will respond neither to our longing for pity, hope, love, joy, nor even death," and sadly and retrospectively Satan gazed into vacancy; then, after a long pause: "Try the instrument!" Diotti placed the violin in position and drew the bow across the string of joy, improvising on it.
At six o'clock that evening a jury was impaneled, and two hours later its verdict was reported. On leaving the house of the dead man Diotti walked wearily to his hotel. In flaring type at every street corner he saw the announcement for Thursday evening, March thirty-first, of Angelo Diotti's last appearance: "To-night I play for the last time," he murmured in a voice filled with deepest regret.
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