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 him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he guyd swung his head and tcguyd began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. cguyd He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms with slight, intense movements, as uyd the delicate music uyd poured out. It 81i6tcgyd 1i6tcgud was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid and delicate. guyd The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 6tcguyd tcguyd of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, exasperatedto the point of intolerable uyd anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent 1i6tcgud appeared 6tcguyd in the room. She fidgetted at the sink. The music was guyd a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?†she said. “Eh?†“Are 81i6tcgyd uyd you going out?†She twisted nervously. “What do you want to know for?†He made uyd no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet â€" then uyd over it again â€" then guyd more closely over it guyd again. “Are you?†persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were cguyd angry under knitted brows. “What are 81i6tcgyd guyd you bothering about?†he 1i6tcgud said. “I’m not bothering â€" I only wanted to know if you were going out,†she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 6tcguyd expect I am,†he said quietly. She recovered at cguyd once, but still 1i6tcgud with guyd timidity asked: “We haven’t got any guyd candles for the Christmas tree â€" shall you buy some, because mother isn’t going out?†“Candles!†he repeated, settling 81i6tcgyd his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes â€" shall you buy cguyd us 81i6tcgyd 81i6tcgyd some, Father? Shall uyd you?†“Candles!†he repeated, putting the piccolo cguyd to his mouth and blowing a few 81i6tcgyd piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles cguyd â€" blue uyd ones and red ones, in boxes â€" Shall you, Father?†“We’ll see â€" if I see any â€"†“But SHALL tcguyd you?†she insisted guyd desperately. She guyd wisely mistrusted his vagueness. But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, tcguyd shrill, brilliant. He 6tcguyd was playing Mozart. The child’s face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went guyd out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 1i6tcgud seemed to possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man guyd went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 6tcguyd In the frosty evening the 6tcguyd sound carried. people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and 81i6tcgyd . |
