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Updated: June 9, 2025
Anita remained silent, but Mrs. Fortescue noticed the happy smile on her lips, as she picked a little air upon the strings; she longed to show off her accomplishments before Broussard and to accompany his singing seemed a little incursion into Paradise. It was arranged that Neroda should come at half-past nine and have the violin tuned.
Fortescue, listening and delighted with Anita's progress, came in to the drawing-room as Neroda was shouting bravos in rapture over the way his best pupil caught the soul of music in her delicate hands and made it prisoner. "Good-morning, Mr. Neroda," said Mrs. Fortescue in her pretty and affable manner Mrs.
Broussard is coming to the dinner," continued Mrs. Fortescue after a moment. "He sings so charmingly. It would be delightful to have him sing and Anita to play a violin obligato." "Admirable! Admirable!" cried Neroda, "Mr. Broussard has a superb voice much too good for an amateur." Mrs. Fortescue laughed; Broussard's beautiful voice was one of the Colonel's grave objections to him.
Anita's first glance at Broussard showed her that he was thin and sallow, and that his clothes hung loosely upon him, and that, in spite of his smile and playful words, his mind was not at ease. Neroda, standing near, saw the glow in the eyes of Anita and Broussard, and as they had evidently forgotten his existence, he slipped, without a word, out of the room.
When she finished, and stood, smiling and triumphant, still holding the violin and bow, Neroda said to her: "Are you not tired, Signorina?" "Not a bit," cried Anita. "I feel that I could play as long as you did, in the days of which you told me when you first came to America and would play the violin all night long for dancers on the East Side in New York."
If Neroda had been puzzled at Anita's inability he was now surprised at her strength. She stood up to her full height and the bow was firm in her grasp. Neroda was a hard master, but Anita succeeded in pleasing him. Even Kettle, who had an artistic rivalry with Neroda, passing the drawing-room door, cried: "Lord, Miss 'Nita, you kin play the fiddle mos' as well as I kin." As Mrs.
Never had Neroda a pupil who was willing to work so hard as Anita, and the result charmed him. On this afternoon Anita was at her lesson in the great drawing-room, the red sunset pouring in through the long windows and flooding the room with crimson lights and purple shadows.
At five minutes to midnight, when the great floor was a whirl of dainty young girls, their heads crowned with roses or with flashing ornaments that matched their sparkling eyes, and with dashing young officers, glittering in gold and blue, the band, with Neroda leading, stopped suddenly.
Broussard was not loth to show his accomplishments and he had a very good will to try the magic of his voice upon Anita, gracious, and obstinate and smiling. The guests, in a circle in the drawing-room, watched and listened to the group at the piano Neroda, short and swarthy, with a rancorous voice; Anita, in her blonde beauty, looking like another St.
But to-night the master hand failed Anita, and she played fitfully and sadly and could do nothing as Neroda directed her. "Shall we give up the rehearsal?" asked Neroda presently, seeing that Anita was not concentrated and that her bow arm showed strange weakness. "No," replied Anita, with a new courage in her violet eyes, "Let us rehearse for the whole hour."
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