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Updated: May 17, 2025
Laudersdale rose and stretched out her arm, blindly. "The room is quite dark," she murmured; "the flowers must soil the air. Will you take me up-stairs?" Meanwhile, the unconscious object of their remark was turning over a pile of pages with one hand, while the other trifled along the gleaming keys. "Here it is," said he, drawing one from the others, and arranging it before him, a gondel-lied.
Raleigh tossed the gondel-lied aside, and rising, they continued their stroll. "You have more than your share of the good things of life, Raleigh," said Mr. McLean, as the person addressed poured out wine for Mrs. Purcell. "Two affairs on hand at once? You drink deep. Light and sparkling, thin and tart, isn't it Solomon who forbids mixed drink?" "I was never the worse for claret," replied Mr.
He stood up and threw his light, thin body gracefully into the skier's pose. "See? You slide on one foot, then on the other. It's as easy as dreaming, and as still." "It's like a gondola " suggested Sheila. Dickie put his head on one side and Sheila explained. She also sang a snatch of a Gondel-lied to show him the motion. "Yes'm," said Dickie. "It's like that. It kind of has a has a " "Rhythm?"
"And there's one song you sometimes play that makes me feel floating on and on like a great white swan." She hummed a few bars of the Gondel-Lied flawlessly. "Dear me! you have an ear!" he said, pinching it. "And how did you like what I was playing just now?" he went on, growing curious to know how his own improvisations struck her.
"And there's one song you sometimes play that makes me feel floating on and on like a great white swan." She hummed a few bars of the Gondel-Lied flawlessly. "Dear me! you have an ear!" he said, pinching it. "And how did you like what I was playing just now?" he went on, growing curious to know how his own improvisations struck her.
As soon as it was over, I looked up and laughed in his face with sheer pleasure." Nothing of the kind was ever half so delightful, if one excepts Mr. Dwight's translation of a Gondel-lied. As literal description it is wondrous, but as imagination it equals the music itself.
Purcell, standing beside the player, laid a careless arm across the instrument, and bent her face above him like a flower languid with the sun's rays. Suddenly the former smile suffused it, and, as the gondel-lied fell into a slow floating accompaniment, she sang with a swift, impetuous grace, and in a sweet, yet thrilling voice, the Moth Song.
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