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The Prodigal Son. Hall Sir Caine
Читать онлайн.Название The Prodigal Son
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066094690
Автор произведения Hall Sir Caine
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
Helga played brilliantly, and Oscar, who turned over her music, applauded her boisterously.
"And now Oscar ought to play something," said the Governor. "From his earliest years he made us conceive the highest hopes that he might become a great musician."
"He will, too--my son Neils at the College of Music says he will," said the Sheriff.
"Nonsense!" said the Factor. "Oscar has something better to do now than to scrape catgut or blow his lungs through a steam-pipe."
"Still, an occasional flirtation with the muses," said the Hector, "you wouldn't object to that, Factor?"
"I would object to flirtations of all sorts," said the Factor, "and I should think the man a fool who put himself in the way of them."
"Surprising how many men do," said the Governor with a wink at the Rector. "Would you believe it--a certain friend of yours wrote a poem in the days of his youth!"
"Never!" cried the Rector, and while the old people laughed, the Factor said:
"When I was a child I behaved as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things."
"Well, I so far agree with the Factor that I think a man can't have his heart in two places at once," said the Governor. "What do you say, Thora?"
"I suppose not," said Thora.
"Certainly not, any more than a man can love two women at the same time," said the Governor; and then Oscar began to play.
He played as the bird sings because the song is in the soul of it, and when he had finished, the company cheered him lustily, and Helga, putting her face close to his, said in a whisper:
"And you asked me to play--I who only play as I am taught, and you can play like that!"
Oscar was delighted with Helga's praises and suggested that they should play together. They played a difficult selection, full of flourishes, and the company declared they had never heard anything like it.
"Wonderful, wasn't it?" said somebody.
"Yes, wasn't it?" said Thora.
She was feeling utterly eclipsed and forgotten when Helga wheeled round on the music-stool and said:
"And now Thora must give us something on her guitar--Aunt Margret says she plays it beautifully."
"Indeed she does--beautifully!" said Aunt Margret.
But Thora begged off in alarm, saying, "No, indeed, no! I couldn't possibly play after playing like that."
So Oscar and Helga began again. This time it was an English ballad. Helga played the accompaniment, and Oscar sang the air, and there was a chorus which they gave together. The company were completely carried away. "Charming!" "Exquisite!" "But how well their voices harmonize!" "They might have been meant by nature to go together!"
"Might they not?" said Thora.
"But now Thora ought really to play her guitar," said Helga.
"Certainly! Thora and her guitar," said Oscar. "And let her sing one of her Iceland love songs to it."
It was cruel, it was heart-breaking, it was almost as if Helga were trying to humiliate her, as if Oscar were joining her, as if they were conspiring together to expose her inferiority.
"No, no, don't ask me, please don't," she pleaded.
But Helga continued to ask and Oscar to second her, and being able to bear the strain no longer, Thora burst into tears, and fled from the room.
"How extraordinary!" said Helga.
But Oscar followed Thora and coaxed and comforted her and brought her back with a smile on her face, although the tears were scarcely dry in her eyes.
"I was silly," she said. "I don't know what came over me."
"Perhaps it was the heat," said the Governor, and he opened one of the windows.
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