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The Music Master Novelized from the Play By: Charles Klein (1867-1915) |
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by CHARLES KLEIN Novelized from the
Play as Produced by
David Belasco Illustrated with Scenes
from the Photoplay
A William Fox Production [Frontispiece: "MY LITTLE GIRL HAD JUST SUCH A DOLL IS IT POSSIBLE
THAT YOU ?"] New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers Copyright, 1909
By Dodd, Mead & Company
All rights reserved Published, March, 1909
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO David Warfield, Artist BY THE AUTHOR
List of Illustrations
"My little girl had just such a doll is it possible
that you ?" . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece The "music master" can no longer pay rent for the piano. Anton Von Barwig is compelled to pawn his favourite violin. Beverly brings Hélène a wedding gift. Anton learns that his newly found daughter is to be married. Hélène prepares her trousseau. "I want you to come with us?" Hélène and Beverly find love's haven.
Chapter One Anton Von Barwig rapped on the conductor's desk for silence and laid
down his baton. The hundred men constituting the Leipsic Philharmonic
Orchestra stopped playing as if by magic, and those who looked up from
their music saw in their leader's face, for the first time in their
three years' experience under his direction, a pained expression of
helplessness. "Either I can't hear you this morning, or the first violins are late in
attacking and the wood wind drags drags drags." "What's the matter? We've played this a hundred times," growled
Karlschmidt, the bass clarionet player, to Poons, the Dutch horn
soloist, who sat at the desk next to him. Karlschmidt was a socialist, a student of Karl Marx, and took more
interest in communism than in his allotted share of the score of
Isolde's Liebestodt . Indeed, nearly all the men were interested in
something other than the occupation which afforded them a living. For
them the pleasure of music had died in the business of attaining
accuracy. "What did he say?" asked Poons, losing Von Barwig's next remark in
trying to hear what Karlschmidt was mumbling. "He said it's his own fault," whispered the second flute. "He's quite right," assented Karlschmidt. "Hush, hush!" came from one or two others. Von Barwig was addressing
the men again, and they wanted to hear. "Let's play; cut the speeches out," growled Karlschmidt. "For God's
sake, what's he saying now?" "Damn it! How can we hear when you won't keep quiet?" blurted a
Germanised Englishman who had an engagement at the old Rathaus and
wanted to get away. "We're dismissed," said Poons, who couldn't hear. But the men at the
violin desks down front were rising and putting away their instruments,
and the others were slowly following their example. Karlschmidt's face expanded into a smile; the prospect of avoiding the
unpleasant grind of rehearsal had restored him to good humour. The
lines of men were now breaking up into knots; bows were being loosened,
violins put into cases and brass instruments into bags, while laughing
and chatting became general. Poons looked at Von Barwig, who still
stood on the small dais, staring out into space, and he saw that
something was the matter. He loved Von Barwig; for years before, when
hard times had sent him over the border from Amsterdam toward the
German music centres, Von Barwig had extended him a helping hand,
indeed had almost kept him from starving until he got an engagement in
one of the minor Dresden theatres; Poons was grateful; and gratitude is
a form of love that lies deeper than mere sympathy. "Can I do something for you, Anton?" he asked a few moments later, as
he stood at the conductor's desk. Von Barwig did not answer; and with
his round face, and smiling eyes glancing appealingly at his conductor,
Poons stood waiting like a little dog that patiently wags his tall in
hope of his master's recognition. Presently he shook his head gravely
and sighed. Surely something was wrong, for Anton was not himself.
Never before had he stopped rehearsal and dismissed his men on the
morning preceding a concert night, and, moreover, the night of the
first performance of a new symphony Von Barwig's own work... Continue reading book >>
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Genres for this book |
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Fiction |
Literature |
Music |
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