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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Yes; rag-time stuff, an' such. Real pop'lar." "No," said Kreutzer, sadly, "I fear I do not know good music of the kind you name." He made as if to turn away, but then bethought himself and whirled back hopefully. "But I can learn," he said. "Simple things, without a doubt, I could play on sight." "Off the notes, you mean?" "Yah; so." "Take this, then."
"When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing what terrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy. "No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa. "But I have done all in my power." "That you have, ma'am." "I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Why should a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry a girl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?"
"I'm going to have a concert," she said abruptly, and laughed uneasily and hovered at the pigeon-holes. "Now now what shall I have?" She chose more of Brahms. Then we came to the Kreutzer Sonata. It is queer how Tolstoy has loaded that with suggestions, debauched it, made it a scandalous and intimate symbol.
"No, father; it could never be goodbye with us. Together always, father always always us together." She ran to him and hid her head upon his breast. A moment later and the girl had been borne off by Mrs. Vanderlyn in triumph. John gave his hand to Kreutzer and the aged flute-player pressed it, smiling at him with approval.
She threw herself into his arms and Kreutzer, there enfolding her, looked proudly out above the wonderful bowed head of the distressed and sobbing girl at Mrs. Vanderlyn. This time there was a note of triumph in his voice a note of triumph which had not been there, even when he had made the announcement of the glory of his birth and family. Mrs. Vanderlyn looked at them in chagrin.
He laughed a little bitterly. "The little feast has cost the last cent in my pocket! When night comes I must walk back to the Garden!... Well what matter? Anna is not suffering, and to-day she will be happy here with me." "Hi, she's comin'," M'riar screamed and dashed out of the room. Herr Kreutzer gazed after her with a wide smile of toleration.
Every day a new religion is born somewhere and it always finds followers. But art endures, it outlives dynasties, religions, divinities. It is with Tolstoy the artist we are enamoured. He may deliver his message of warning to a careless world which only pricks up its ears when that message takes on questionable colour, as in the unpalatable Kreutzer Sonata.
Laboriously he made things clear to her, Herr Kreutzer helping and coming to an understanding just before she did. "Ach!" said the old flute-player, "We cannot. We have not so much." "Sure. I know that," the man replied. "That is why I say th' girl has got to be sent back."
Now we had the Kreutzer Sonata exquisitely performed by amateur musicians, now we listened to selections from Lamartine, Nadaud, Victor Hugo and others, as admirably rendered by a member of this accomplished family, all the members of which were now gathered together. I saw something alike of their poorer and richer neighbours, all of course being their country-people.
She turned, now, again to Kreutzer. Everything considered she made good weather of it on a difficult occasion. "My dear Count," she pleaded, "won't you reconsider, please?" The old flute-player shook his head. "I do not wish to hurt your feelings, Madame, but it is impossible impossible." "Mother," said John Vanderlyn, not viciously, but, still, a little wickedly, "you are up against it.
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