Books › The Red Book 1907-01: Vol 8 Iss 3, 1907 › scan 33
Scan 33
The Red Book 1907-01: Vol 8 Iss 3, 1907
50 lines. Read by computer on 14 September 2026. Printed page 322. See the scan on archive.org.
1fessor quietly; "there's a difference, Robert. But I am sorry, almost as much disappointed as you, my boy. I never put so much of myself into the training of a pupil in all my experience; I sympathized with your desire."
3There was silence for a moment, and the sounds from the street became jarringly audible.
5"Have you written to my uncle?" inquired Archer at last, his tones studiously indifferent. "I might as well have it over at once. As you say, it was a square deal, and I must do my part."
7"No," replied Professor Gastrow, slowly, "I have not written, Robert, because—"
9"Well?"
11"Because you have another chance. You are tired, just now; overworked, perhaps. Will you do as I say once more? It is your last hope, but it's worth trying."
13"I have obeyed you implicitly for five years, professor, and I can do it again. Force of habit is strong."
15Professor Gastrow passed his hand across his hair, smoothing down his rampant locks mechanically; it was an involuntary act hailed with relief by unhappy pupils, for it indicated that peace was near at hand.
17"There's a place," he said, slowly, "up among the hills, with trout brooks and things. Go there for the summer; loaf, fish, dance, if you choose. Try fresh air and frivolity, girls—"
19"Girls?" inquired the lad, doubtfully, "but why girls?"
21"Sometimes, at rare intervals," remarked the professor, indifferently, "they are stimulating. But small doses, Robert, varying in quality. Variety, my boy, is the spice of life, especially in women. You will start Monday; I will arrange it."
23"Just as you say," said Archer, rising, "but it's only putting off the evil hour."
25He reached out his hand for his violin. but the professor interfered
27"This stays with me," he said decidedly. "no music whatever for you this summer In October, Robert, you may come here again and play to me After that I will write to your uncle."
29He closed the case and put the violin in a closet, and turned to the young fellow who watched him with a puzzled expression.
31"Be ready to start Monday," he said, quietly. "I will tell you then where you are going."
33That night Professor Gastrow, an acknowledged authority in the musical world, wrote a letter, read it over carefully, folded and stamped it with precision, and then weighed it doubtfully in his hand.
35"Nonsense," he said at last, rousing himself abruptly, "a surgeon does not hesitate to apply the knife because it hurts."
37And walking quickly to the nearest corner he posted his letter.
39There were many hills. Green hills near at hand, glowing with verdure, throbbing with every sort of life, and delightfully human in their companionship; purple hills in the distance, indistinct and misty, awesome in their alliance with the unexplored horizon and wonderfully fascinating in their suggestiveness.
41There was a brook with lights and shadows. A riotous brook, leaping noisily about moss covered rocks, dancing fantastically in the sunshine, and shouting its paean to whom it might concern; a dangerous brook, lapping softly over little white pebbles, sidling unobtrusively into peaceful, shady pools by fern-fringed banks—rippling, murmuring, beckoning, as it whispered to credulous youth strange melodies of life and its possibilities.
43There was a girl, wide-eyed and wondering, with womanhood before her; and a lad, alert and eager, almost—not quite—a man. They sat beside the brook and listened to it; moreover they had sat there often before, and had come to regard it with a sense of possession. Usually the girl talked, while he lay on the soft green moss, gazing at the bits of blue sky visible between the leaves and unconsciously drifting toward the inevitable.
45Today, however, he told her a story and she listened with growing disapproval, an occasional frown knitting her white brow.
47"I like men who do things," she remarked, as he paused for an appropriate word
49"Mozart did things," he said dreamily. "Mozart and Beethoven, and—"
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