tones were different. And scarcely had people listened a moment longer when they held their breath.
That violin was all at once in tears and lamentation. The hill-side and the woodland sobbed out in it, and man bewailed. And he bewailed with anguish and with wrath.
The theatre was thrilled anew, it was thrilled again and again. Its aspect was completely changed by the mere swaying of a hand. Venik had brought the public to their senses, and now he played “The Orphaned Child”.
It was a horrible outpouring of grief, and beneath it all lay a hidden tempest of emotion. People wiped away their tears, and their flesh crept.
And that violin seemed to wish to speak as follows: “Like two flower-cups, we grew together on one stalk, and thou, rapacious hand of society, hast torn away the one and I, the other, am orphaned.”
And that violin seemed to say, “Like two birds we fluttered together over the hill-side when they take counsel together of what they shall weave their nest; and thou, insatiable maw of society, didst devise a cunning springe. Thou need’st must catch my mate and I am orphaned.”
And further it seemed to say, “Two hearts we grew together side by side, and one struck root in the other, ’twas I who cherished those hearts till they were like as one, but ye have rent away the one, the roots which ye have torn out with it have left but wounds, and those which ye have not torn out anguish yet more—ye have that heart and I—I am orphaned of it.”
And then it said, “We were that sportive, laughter-loving Nature which maketh music in itself: but ye had a craving for mere craftmanship; ye outraged Nature, and Nature thus outraged has found her way hither, and calls aloud in me because I am orphaned.”
And yet again it said, “Faith have ye expunged out of my life, and what exotics have ye planted there instead? Who of you dares still to submit his prayers to Heaven, when ye have plucked the heart out of my breast for life? But I indeed have a right to tears and bitter accusations and wrath and cursing, and I fling my curse upon you—I hate you and I curse you—I, only an orphaned child.”
And much more in the like strain did that violin say to them, and the public heard it and understood it, trembled, and wept salt tears. It was like a trumpet-call to judgment; an invisible
