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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Ah, ze sweet leetle white angel!" he would cry, as she tugged and kicked. "I luf you so I luf you, an' will stay always, ah' play ze violon! Ah, mon Dieu, you will be ze gr-r-r-eat bea-utiful white angel lak HER!" He would laugh and coo like a mother, and talk, for at these times Jan Thoreau's tongue was as voluble as his violin.
"Madame, my violon," she resumed after a pause, speaking cheerfully, and wiping her eyes with her apron, "she have many voices, Petie; tousand voices, like all birds, all winds, all song in the world; and she have an angry voice, too, deep down, what make you tr-remble in your heart, if you are bad. Bien! Sometime Coquelicot, he been bad, very bad.
There is no beggary among these strong-souled men of the far North, and Jan's lips did not beg. He unwrapped the bearskin, and whispered: "For the museek of the violon somet'ing to eat!" He played, even as the words fell from him, but only for a moment for the bow slipped from his nerveless grip and his head sank forward upon his breast.
All the dogs, they afraid of Coquelicot, because he have the minds. And he, Coquelicot, he fear nossing, except Madame when she is angry." "Who was she?" asked Petie, "a big dog?" "Ah, dog, no!" cried Marie, her face flushing. "Madame my violon, my life, my pleasure, my friend.
When is it to be mine, M'sieu Fortier?" "Nevare, nevare!" exclaimed M'sieu, gripping on as tightly to the case as if he feared it might be wrenched from him. "Me a lovere, and to sell mon violon! Ah, so ver' foolish!" "Martel," said the first speaker to his companion as they moved on up town, "I wish you knew that little Frenchman. He's a unique specimen.
"For the museek of the violon somet'ing to eat!" he heard, and the thin figure swayed and fell almost into his arms. The voice came weak again. "Thees is Jan Jan Thoreau and his violon " The woman's bloodless face and her great staring dark eyes greeted them as they entered the cabin.
But Fiddlin' Jack lived on in the little house with the curved roof, beside the river, refusing all the good offers which were made to him for his piece of land. "NON," he said; "what for shall I sell dis house? I lak' her, she lak' me. All dese walls got full from museek, jus' lak' de wood of dis violon. He play bettair dan de new feedle, becos' I play heem so long.
All we can state for certain is, that yesterday morning we awoke, the three of us, in a most wretched state, in a strange, nasty place. We learn soon after from a gentleman in a cocked hat, who came to visit us on business, that the imperial hospitality which we had claimed last night had indeed been extended to us—only in the violon, instead of the Elysée.
"Who came with you?" De Arthenay continued. "Who are your folks?" Marie shook her head, and a light crept into her eyes as she thought of Le Boss. "I have nobodies'" she said. "I am with myself, sauf le violon; I mean, wiz my fiddle. Monsieur likes not music, no?" She looked wistfully at him, and something seemed to rise up in the man's throat and choke him.
In his "L'Art du Violon" he points out the chief distinction between the old and the modern style of violin playing to be the absence of the dramatic element in the former, and its predominance in the latter, thus enabling the executive art to follow the progress marked out by the composer, and to bring out the powerful contrasts and enlarged ideas of the modern musical compositions.
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