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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I call him Italo because I never can remember his other name. Come, let's go into the parlor." It was all rosily lighted. Candles set on the piano at each side of the music-rest enkindled glossy high lights on the nose-bump and forehead bosses of Signor Ceccherelli, who at Mrs. Hawthorne's appearance sprang up to salute. She reached him her hand, over which he deeply bowed.
There was a fire cheerfully burning in the gable, and opposite to that stood a tall old-fashioned cabinet piano, in faded red silk. It was open; and on the music-rest lay Handel's "Verdi Prati," for I managed to glance at it as we left.
She now wheeled upon the stool, and struck some chords. "I wish you'd thought to bring your fiddle, Millicent. I should like to try this piece." The piece lay on the music-rest before her. "I will go and get it for her," said the ex-master of ceremonies. "Do," said Miss Desmond. "No, no," Gaites protested. "I brought Miss Axewright, and I have the first claim to bring her fiddle."
"Ought to hear her do this rag I've been teaching her double-bass." Missy shrank back as he placed the rag-time on the music-rest. "Oh, I'd rather not to-day." Pete smiled down at her his amiable but condescending smile. "What's the matter with to-day?" he asked. Missy blushed again. "Oh, I don't know I just don't feel that way, I guess." "Don't feel that way?" repeated Pete.
A grand piano stood near the richly curtained windows. It was open. A vocal duet occupied the music-rest, and various other pieces for voice and instrument were strewed along the highly polished top. Near the piano was a harp, while a manuscript book of German and Italian songs was placed upon an elegant stand near it, and other pieces filled a gaping portfolio at the foot.
It must be broken, however; something must be done; they could not sit there dumb forever. He looked at the sheet of music on the piano and said, "I see you have been trying that song. Do you like it?" "Yes, very much," and now for the first time she got her voice fairly above a whisper. She took the sheet down from the music-rest and looked at the picture of the lithographed title.
When I turned the singers were gone, and there stood my poor David, frowning at a music-rest so savagely that I fancied he must be suffering from a bad headache, and expressed my sympathy. "'Headache? I haven't a headache, he growled, stalking down stairs in advance. "I thought he needn't have felt so enraged if he hadn't, and walked on in dumb dignity.
Thea, loitering on the stool, reached for a tattered book she had taken off the music-rest when she sat down. It was a very old Leipsic edition of the piano score of Gluck's "Orpheus." She turned over the pages curiously. "Is it nice?" she asked. "It is the most beautiful opera ever made," Wunsch declared solemnly. "You know the story, eh? How, when she die, Orpheus went down below for his wife?"
The blinds were pulled up in the drawing-room, the piano was uncovered, the windows thrown open to the terrace. "You haven't had much time for playing since your mamma has been ill," the woman continued, dusting the keys and setting up the music-rest. "To-day my mother has a visitor; Mrs. Joseph Fleming is spending the afternoon with her," said Hadria.
As if any girl would ever think twice about me!" Thereupon I descended to the drawing-room, which I found empty. It was a true woman's room, daintily furnished, with little knick-knacks here and there, a work-basket put neatly away for the Sabbath, and an open piano with one of Chopin's works upon the music-rest. Leading out of the drawing-room was a small conservatory, filled with plants.
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