Books › The Red Book 1912-04: Vol 18 Iss 6, 1912 › scan 141
Scan 141
The Red Book 1912-04: Vol 18 Iss 6, 1912
40 lines. Read by computer on 14 September 2026. Printed page 1100. See the scan on archive.org.
1the cab that drove them from Bloomsbury to this Piccadilly restaurant. It had made him uneasy as he sat by her side and they glided over the asphalted roads. And it mounted slowly, slowly to his brain as he and she dined, almost under the palms and lilies on the edge of the platform where the string band played La Poupée.
3He had found her in London, two years back. He had taken her to his beloved Hungary to teach her music as it should be taught. He had worshiped her for the sheer glamour of the genius in her; then her absolute obedience to his teaching, and her profound gratitude, and the sweetness of her nature, and her clinging trust, had made her altogether a part of his existence. Every night he thanked God for this child and for the privilege of sheltering her with his plenty, and his simplicity, and his two decades more of life.
5He had brought her to London only this day. It was already as good as stormed. But he had insisted on rest, first. And scarcely anyone knew that Margaretta Heilson, who had captured Buda and enchanted Vienna, was in London with Valentine Saros, her master.
7"I am glad that I signed no contracts, for I feel that I shall not stay long in this place," said Margaretta slowly.
9Saros looked at her, and his gaze became entangled in her wonderful hair, which was of the texture of spun silk, and the color of champagne. He did not answer, and was unaware of a waiter's deft hand removing his scarcely tasted entrée. There was a curious exalted expression in his brown eyes that quite transformed his long, thin face.
11"I am half afraid of it, as a burned child dreads the fire. I suffered so here. How can I move all these hundreds of thousands of hearts which are occupied only with struggling to live?"
13At that moment some one in the orchestra began to execute the "Angels' Serenade," of Braga, upon the violin.
15The delicate strains, vibrant with the player's nervousness, hardly penetrated through the murmur of voices, through the restrained sounds which rose from every table in the immense salle à manger. Some eyes wandered to the program of music.
17"Ah, ah, that deplorable nervousness," said Saros. "He will recover, however. He has emotion, but his technique is that of a schoolgirl. Que voulez-vous? To have to accompany a clatter of knives and forks. Sacrilege!"
19"We must begin somehow, professor. Remember the third-rate concert where you found me."
21"Ah, pardon. It was a tenth-rate one."
23His smile was not returned. He perceived, instead, veiled anxiety. He watched her apprehensively, and observed the white Malmaisons at her bosom heave and fall. She leaned more over her plate.
25An amethyst glimmered in her hair, reflecting in pale fire the dazzling electroliers. She wore a soft heliotrope. Fair, ethereal, nebulous, she was. Her lashes, a shade too light, rested for a second on the soft rise of the cheek. Saros regarded these lashes suspiciously, and with a weighted heart, for he noticed the jewels that struggled to free themselves from beneath. Whence had this cloud come?
27Suddenly a jewel did escape. It splashed upon the Malmaisons and vanished. Margaretta looked up bravely.
29"How foolish of me," she smiled. "It—it was the Serenata."
31The maestro opened amazed eyes. "Not really?"
33"Really. I had not heard it since—since—"
35The waiter was attending to her glass, and she was glad of the interruption. He glided away, and she continued, this time without an effort—
37"Since I left home. Robert played it."
39Saros smiled an interest. He had heard her speak that name a few times during the two years abroad, and had believed that at some time or other his pupil had cared for Robert—whoever Robert might be. He had respected her silence on the matter, which, indeed, had not troubled him. But now the word brought with it a vague pain. He
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