Читать «Cup of Gold (Золотая чаша)» онлайн - страница 111

"I am sure yours were great, if your modesty would let you admit it," she was saying demurely. "Do you know, I used to tremble at the tales they told of you, and hope that you were not in need or trouble."

"Did you? Why did you? I didn't think you ever noticed me."

Her eyes had filled with tears. "I have had trouble, too."

"I know. They told me about your trouble, and I was sorry for you, little cousin Elizabeth. I hope you will let me help you in your trouble. Won't you sit here beside me, Elizabeth?"

She looked shyly at him. "I'll play for you, if you like," she said.

"Yees-yes, do."

"Now this is 'The Elves' Concourse.' Listen! You can hear their little feet pattering on the grass.

Everybody says it is very sweet and pretty." Her fingers methodically worked at the strings.

Henry thought her hands lovely as they flew about. He forgot about the music in watching her hands.

They were like little white moths, so delicate and restless. One would hesitate in touching them because handling might ruin them, and yet one wanted to stroke them. The piece was ending with loud bass notes.

Now it was finished. When the last string had ceased its vibration, he observed: "You play very-precisely, Elizabeth."

"Oh, I play the notes as they come," she said. "I always think the composer knew his business better than I do."

"I know, and it is a comfort to hear you. It is nice to know that everything is to be in its place-even notes. You have eradicated a certain obnoxious freedom I have noticed in the playing of some young women. That kind is very lovable and spontaneous and human, of course, but given to carelessness in the interest of passion. Yes, as I become older, I grow to be taking satisfaction in seeing the thing I expected come about. Unsure things are distracting. Chance has not the tug on me it once had. I was a fool, Elizabeth. I went sailing and sailing looking for something-well, something that did not exist, perhaps.

And now that I have lost my unnamable desires, I may not be happier, but there is more content on me."

"That sounds wise and worldly, and a little bit cynical," she observed.

"But if it is wisdom, then wisdom is experience beating about in an orderly brain, kicking over the files.

And how could I be otherwise than worldly. And cynicism is the moss which collects on a rolling stone."

"That is clever, anyway," she agreed. "I suppose you have known a great many of those young women you spoke of."

"What young women, Elizabeth?"

"The ones who played badly."

"Oh! Yes, I have met a few."

"And did you-did you-like them?"

"I tolerated them because they were friends of my friends. "

"Did any of them fall in love with you? I know I am not delicate, but you are my cousin, and almost my-my brother. "

"Oh, some said they did-but I suspect they wanted my money. "

"Surely not! But I shall play for you again. This will be a sad piece-'God Bears the Weary Soul to Rest.' I always think it is better to have seriousness with the lighter music. "