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The Fifth String
sneeringly。
‘‘Uncle；'' interposed Mildred tactfully； ‘‘you must not be so persistent。
Signor Diotti prizes his violin highly and will not allow any one to play
upon it but himself；'' and the look of relief on Diotti's face amply repaid
her。
Mr。 Wallace came in at that moment； and with perfunctory interest in
his guest； invited him to examine the splendid collection of revolutionary
relics in his study。
‘‘I value them highly；'' said the banker； ‘‘both for patriotic and
ancestral reasons。 The Wallaces fought and died for their country； and
helped to make this land what it is。''
The father and the violinist went to the study； leaving the daughter and
old Sanders in the drawing…room。 The old man； seating himself in a large
armchair； said： ‘‘Mildred； my dear； I do not wonder at the enormous
success of this Diotti。''
‘‘He is a wonderful artist；'' replied Mildred； ‘‘critics and public alike
place him among the greatest of his profession。''
‘‘He is a good…looking young fellow； too；'' said the old man。
‘‘I think he is the handsomest man I ever have seen；'' replied the girl。
‘‘Where does he come from？'' continued Sanders。
‘‘St。 Casciano； a small town in Tuscany。''
‘‘Has he a family？''
‘‘Only a sister； whom he loves dearly；'' good…naturedly answered the
girl。
‘‘And no one else？'' continued the seemingly garrulous old man。
‘‘None that I have heard him speak of。 No； certainly not；'' rather
impetuously replied Mildred。
‘‘How old is he？'' continued the old man。
‘‘Twenty…eight next month； why do you wish to know？'' she
quizzically asked。
‘‘Simply idle curiosity；'' old Sanders carelessly replied。 ‘‘I wonder if
he is in love with any one in Tuscany？''
‘‘Of course not； how could he be？'' quickly rejoined the girl。
‘‘And why not？'' added old Sanders。
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‘‘Why？ Because； becausehe is in love with some one in America。''
‘‘Ah； with you； I see；'' said the old man； as if it were the greatest
discovery of his life； ‘‘are you sure he has not some beautiful sweetheart
in Tuscany as well as here？''
‘‘What a foolish question；'' she replied。 ‘‘Men like Angelo Diotti do
not fall in love as soldiers fall in line。 Love to a man of his nobility is too
serious to be treated so lightly。''
‘‘Very true； and that's what has excited my curiosity！'' whereupon the
old man smoked away in silence。
‘‘Excited your curiosity！'' said Mildred。 ‘‘What do you mean？''
‘‘It may be something； it may be nothing； but my speculative instinct
has been aroused by a strange peculiarity in his playing。''
‘‘His playing is wonderful！'' replied Mildred proudly。
‘‘Aye； more than wonderful！ I watched him intently；'' said the old man；
‘‘I noted with what marvelous facility he went from one string to the other。
But however rapid； however difficult the composition； he steadily avoided
one string； in fact； that string remained untouched during the entire hour
he played for us。''
‘‘Perhaps the composition did not call for its use；'' suggested Mildred；
unconscious of any other meaning in the old man's observation； save
praise for her lover。
‘‘Perhaps so； but the oddity impressed me； it was a new string to me。 I
have never seen one like it on a violin before。''
‘‘That can scarcely be； for I do not remember of Signor Diotti telling
me there was anything unusual about his violin。''
‘‘I am sure it has a fifth string。''
‘‘And I am equally sure the string can be of no importance or Angelo
would have told me of it；'' Mildred quickly rejoined。
‘‘I recall a strange story of Paganini；'' continued the old man；
apparently not noticing her interruption； ‘‘he became infatuated with a
lady of high rank； who was insensible of the admiration he had for her
beauty。
‘‘He composed a love scene for two strings； the ‘E' and ‘G；' the first
was to personate the lady； the second himself。 It commenced with a
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The Fifth String
species of dialogue； intending to represent her indifference and his passion；
now sportive； now sad； laughter on her part and tears from him； ending in
an apotheosis of loving reconciliation。 It affected the lady to that degree
that ever after she loved the violinist。''
‘‘And no doubt they were happy？'' Mildred suggested smilingly。
‘‘Yes；'' said the old man； with assumed sentiment； ‘‘even when his
profession called him far away； for she had made him promise her he
never would play upon the two strings whose music had won her heart； so
those strings were mute； except for her。''
The old man puffed away in silence for a moment； then with logical
directness continued： ‘‘Perhaps the string that's mute upon Diotti's violin
is mute for some such reason。''
‘‘Nonsense；'' said the girl； half impatiently。
‘‘The string is black and glossy as the tresses that fall in tangled skeins
on the shoulders of the dreamy beauties of Tuscany。 It may be an idle
fancy； but if that string is not a woven strand from some woman's
crowning glory； then I have no discernment。''
‘‘You are jesting； uncle；'' she replied； but her heart was heavy already。
‘‘Ask him to play on that string； I'll wager he'll refuse；'' said the old
man； contemptuously。
‘‘He will not refuse when I ask him； but I will not to…night；'' answered
the unhappy girl； with forced determina… tion。 Then； taking the old man's
hands； she said： ‘‘Good…night； I am going to my room； please make my
excuses to Signor Diotti and father；'' and wearily she ascended the stairs。
Mr。 Wallace and the violinist soon after joined old Sanders； fresh
cigars were lighted and regrets most earnestly expressed by the violinist
for Mildred's ‘‘sick headache。''
‘‘No need to worry； she will be all right in the morning；'' said Sanders；
and he and the violinist buttoned their coats tightly about them； for the
night was bitter cold； and together they left the house。
In her bed…chamber Mildred stood looking at the portrait of her lover。
She studied his face long and intently； then crossing the room she
mechanically took a volume from the shelf； and as she opened it her eyes
fell on these lines：
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The Fifth String
‘‘How art thou fallen from Heaven； O Lucifer； son of the Morning！''
***
Old Sanders builded better than he knew。
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The Fifth String
XI
When Diotti and old Sanders left the house they walked rapidly down
Fifth Avenue。 It was after eleven； and the streets were bare of pedestrians；
but blinking…eyed cabs came up the avenue； looking at a distance like a
trail of Megatheriums； gliding through the darkness。 The piercing wind
made the men hasten their steps； the old man by a semi…rotary motion
keeping up with the longer strides