Come now,
play something more for me before you go--something that's bright
and happy this time, so as to leave me with a good taste in my mouth.
That last thing you played took me straight to heaven,--but heaven's
awful near to hell, and at the last you tipped me in."
"I don't understand you," said Felix, drawing his fine,
narrow black brows together in a perplexed frown.
"No--and I wouldn't want you to. You couldn't understand unless
you was an old man who had it in him once to do something
and be a MAN, and just went and made himself a devilish fool.
But there must be something in you that understands things--all kinds
of things--or you couldn't put it all into music the way you do.
How do you do it? How in--how DO you do it, young Felix?"
"I don't know. But I play differently to different people.
I don't know how that is. When I'm alone with you I have to play
one way; and when Janet comes over here to listen I feel quite
another way--not so thrilling, but happier and lonelier.
And that day when Jessie Blair was here listening I felt as if I
wanted to laugh and sing--as if the violin wanted to laugh
and sing all the time."
The strange, golden gleam flashed through old Abel's sunken eyes.
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