Books › The yellow violin, 1902 › scan 317
Scan 317
The yellow violin, 1902
2 lines. Read by computer on 3 September 2026. Printed page 301. See the scan on archive.org.
1A mist had come before his eyes, a singular tremor in all his limbs. The transition from acute anguish, from the frightful strain upon his nerves that had at times almost paralyzed his manhood, was too much for his strength. The lemonade did something to restore him, but he still felt dizzy and faint, and disinclined to move. And yet there was a sweet delight at his heart, that thrilled him as he sat there, struggling for composure. He was no longer a criminal who had eluded justice. His victim, whose cold-blooded language had moved him to wrath, had been living and prosperous all these years, while he had suffered untold agonies, and moved about as one with a price set on his head. A series of revolving pictures came before his mind's vision—first and most terrible of all the fall and cry of his victim. Then he saw himself in hiding, no one to shield him but the faithful wife—then disguised as a tramp leaving the city—then a common hand on a ship—and lastly, a fugitive in the land of his birth, fair Switzerland. Under an assumed name he made his way and earned his bread by playing the violin, hearing, but very occasionally, and at last not at all, from his little family. Some guiding hand led him to a distant
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