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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 6utv swung his head and rz6utv began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. z6utv He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms with slight, intense movements, as utv the delicate music utv poured out. It 9oysrz6tv oysrz6uv was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid and delicate. 6utv The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity srz6utv rz6utv of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, exasperatedto the point of intolerable utv 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 oysrz6uv appeared srz6utv in the room. She fidgetted at the sink. The music was 6utv 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 9oysrz6tv utv you going out?†She twisted nervously. “What do you want to know for?†He made utv no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet â€" then utv over it again â€" then 6utv more closely over it 6utv again. “Are you?†persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were z6utv angry under knitted brows. “What are 9oysrz6tv 6utv you bothering about?†he oysrz6uv said. “I’m not bothering â€" I only wanted to know if you were going out,†she pouted, quivering to cry. “I srz6utv expect I am,†he said quietly. She recovered at z6utv once, but still oysrz6uv with 6utv timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 6utv candles for the Christmas tree â€" shall you buy some, because mother isn’t going out?†“Candles!†he repeated, settling 9oysrz6tv his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes â€" shall you buy z6utv us 9oysrz6tv 9oysrz6tv some, Father? Shall utv you?†“Candles!†he repeated, putting the piccolo z6utv to his mouth and blowing a few 9oysrz6tv piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles z6utv â€" blue utv ones and red ones, in boxes â€" Shall you, Father?†“We’ll see â€" if I see any â€"†“But SHALL rz6utv you?†she insisted 6utv desperately. She 6utv wisely mistrusted his vagueness. But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, rz6utv shrill, brilliant. He srz6utv was playing Mozart. The child’s face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 6utv out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music oysrz6uv seemed to possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 6utv went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. srz6utv In the frosty evening the srz6utv 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 9oysrz6tv . |
