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She rose from the music-stool and stood facing him; he saw her bosom rise and fall, he marked the varying color in her cheeks, the light and shadow in her troubled eyes, as she poured out the impetuous words with which her heart was charged. "I could not have borne it! I do not know how to put up with insult and contempt. I feel that I hate all the world when it treats me in that way.

Still, he was Dutch, so he did not like giving up, and he went on playing for twenty-four hours, without stopping for more than five minutes at a time. The ladies always exclaimed: "Please go on if you can; we're not tired at all," though they looked very pale and ill; so he didn't stop until he tumbled off his music-stool, and had to be carried away to bed, where he lay for two days.

She went back to the piano when she was alone, and sat down on the music-stool, but her hands did not go to the keys till she was sure that Lushington was already far from the house. A few chords, and then she suddenly began to sing with the full power of her voice, as if she were on the stage.

Bailey regarded this as the primary purpose of music-books; and so it was, at the home of her niece, who could play quite nicely. There was only two and they "just did." She referred to this while Mr. Torrens was spinning the music-stool to a suitable height for himself. He responded with perfect gravity not a fraction of a smile that books were apt to be too high or too low.

"Adieu, 'graceful consort," said Stephen, buttoning his coat across when he had done singing, and smiling down from his tall height, with the air of rather a patronizing lover, at the little lady on the music-stool. "My bliss is not incessant, for I must gallop home. I promised to be there at lunch." "You will not be able to call on Philip, then?

He dashes the fair hair from his brow: he sits down to the piano, and plays one or two of them, warbling a faint vocal accompaniment, and looking as if he would be lifted off the screw music-stool, and flutter up to the ceiling. "Oh, it's just seraphic!" says the widow. "It's just the breath of incense and the pealing of the organ at the Cathedral at Montreal. Rosey doesn't remember Montreal.

His words were lost in the uproar. For five minutes the din prevailed. Then, with a final crash, Fenn finished. He got up from the music-stool, bowed, and walked back to his place by the senior door. The musical efforts of the gallery changed to a storm of cheering and clapping. The choir rose to begin the next piece. Still the noise continued.

The Indiarubber Man slid on to the music-stool again, put his foot on the soft pedal, lightly touched the familiar chords, and began humming under his breath: "We don't want to lose you But we think you ought to go . . ." There are many ways of saying Moriturus te saluto. All night long the wind, blowing in across the dunes from the North Sea, had brought the sound of firing.

Victorine had her music lesson, and I don't know what could have upset her; but "the Tug," who always sits in the room with her, came flying out, saying Victorine was faint and she must get her a glass of water; so I ran into the salle d'étude to see if I could help her. There she was flopping on the music-stool, with Monsieur Dubois kneeling by her, looking cross and reproachful, and just like the villain in the pantomimes. I heard her say, "Cela doit être complètement oublié entre nous

Lancy had no eyes for anything but the piano, and as Susan opened it she smilingly exclaimed: "Confess, now, that you think there is little music to be got out of this ancient-looking thing." "Well, it is an odd make, certainly, but some of these old pianos have a fine tone. Sit down and play something for us, Miss Taylor," and he drew the music-stool in place. "Oh, no!