IV
It was the evening of the fourteenth, In front of the Academy astrong-lunged and insistent tribe of gentry, known as ticketspeculators, were reaping a rich harvest. They represented a beaconlight of hope to many tardy patrons of the evening's entertainment,especially to the man who had forgotten his wife's injunction "to besure to buy the tickets on the way down town, dear, and get them in thefamily circle, not too far back." This man's intentions were sincere,but his newspaper was unusually interesting that morning. He wasdeeply engrossed in an article on the causes leading to matrimonialinfelicities when his 'bus passed the Academy box-office.
He was six blocks farther down town when he finished the article, onlyto find that it was a carefully worded advertisement for a new patentmedicine, and of course he had not time to return. "Oh, well," said he,"I'll get them when I go up town to-night."
But he did not. So with fear in his heart and a red-faced woman on hisarm he approached the box-office. "Not a seat left," sounded to hishen-pecked ears like the concluding words of the black-robed judge:"and may the Lord have mercy upon your soul." But a reprieve came, forone of the aforesaid beacon lights of hope rushed forward, saying: "Ihave two good seats, not far back, and only ten apiece." And thegentleman with fear in his heart and the red-faced woman on his armpassed in.
They saw the largest crowd in the history of the Academy. Every seatwas occupied, every foot of standing room taken. Chairs were placed inthe side aisles. The programs announced that it was the secondappearance in America of Angelo Diotti, the renowned Tuscan violinist.
The orchestra had perfunctorily ground out the overture to "DerFreischuetz," the baritone had stentorianly emitted "Dio Possente," thesoprano was working her way through the closing measures of the madscene from "Lucia," and Diotti was number four on the program. Theconductor stood beside his platform, ready to ascend as Diotti appeared.
The audience, ever ready to act when those on the stage cease thatoccupation, gave a splendid imitation of the historic last scene at theTower of Babel. Having accomplished this to its evident satisfaction,the audience proceeded, like the closing phrase of the"Goetterdaemmerung" Dead March, to become exceedingly quiet--thenexpectant.
This expectancy lasted fully three minutes. Then there were someimpatient handclappings. A few persons whispered: "Why is he late?""Why doesn't he come?" "I wonder where Diotti is," and then cameunmistakable signs of impatience. At its height Perkins appeared,hesitatingly. Nervous and jerky he walked to the center of the stage,and raised his hand begging silence. The audience was stilled.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he falteringly said, "Signor Diotti left hishotel at seven o'clock and was driven to the Academy. The call-boyrapped at his dressing-room, and not receiving a reply, opened the doorto find the room empty. We have despatched searchers in every directionand have sent out a police alarm. We fear some accident has befallenthe Signor. We ask your indulgence for the keen disappointment, and begto say that your money will be refunded at the box-office."
Diotti had disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowedhim.
The Fifth String Page 4
