Schneller, and Lucy sat in a deep
corner of the sofa, remembering the mistakes she had made.
Presently she heard Sebastian thanking the two young men and
telling Auerbach they were a credit to him.
"Now, my boys, I won't keep you any longer. We will have another
practice morning one of these days. I'm going to detain Miss
Gayheart; she was a little nervous and I want her to try again." He
shook hands with Schneller and Patterson, and they left. Then he
took Auerbach's arm and walked with him toward the sofa where Lucy
was sitting. "On the whole, Paul, I think Miss Gayheart would be
the best risk. She is a little uncertain, but she has much the best
touch."
Auerbach spoke up for her.
"She's not usually uncertain. I was surprised when she went
wrong in the Massenet. She reads well at sight."
"I was frightened, Mr. Auerbach," Lucy said feebly.
The large man in the double-breasted morning coat stood before
her and smiled encouragingly. "I know when people are frightened,
my dear. I've seen it before. The point is, you do not make ugly
sounds; that puts me out more than anything. After the holidays you
must come to my studio and we'll try an hour's practice together.
That's the only way to arrive at anything. Just when do you get
back from your vacation?"
On the 3rd of January, she told him.
"Very well, shall we say January 4th, at ten o'clock, in my
studio on Michigan Avenue?" He took a notebook from his pocket and
wrote it down. "You might take the score of Elijah with you and
glance over it." Again he looked at her intently, with real
kindness in his eyes. "Good-bye, Miss Gayheart, and a pleasant
holiday."
That was the last time she had seen him.
Tonight she would hear his Schubert program, and tomorrow
morning at ten she was to be at his studio.
Lucy sprang up from her bed; it was almost time to start for the
concert. She slipped into her only evening dress and put on the
velvet cloak she had bought just before she went home for
Christmas. It was very pretty, she thought, and becoming (she had
quite impoverished herself to have it), but it was not very warm.
Tonight there was a bitter wind blowing off the Lake, but she was
going to have a cab—anyway, she was not afraid of the cold. She
rather liked the excitement of winding a soft, light cloak about
her bare arms and shoulders and running out into a glacial cold
through which one could hear the hammer-strokes of the workmen who
were thawing out switches down on the freight tracks with gasoline
torches. The thing to do was to make an overcoat of the cold; to
feel one's self warm and awake at the heart of it, one's blood
coursing unchilled in an air where roses froze instantly.
Chapter 5
The recital this evening was given in a small hall, before an
audience made up of Germans and Jews. Lucy arrived very early and
was able to change her seat (which was near Auerbach's) for one at
the back of the house, in the shadow of a pillar, where she could
feel very much alone. She had never heard Die Winterreise sung
straight through as an integral work. For her it was being sung the
first time, something newly created, and she attributed to the
artist much that belonged to the composer. She kept feeling that
this was not an interpretation, this was the thing itself, with one
man and one nature behind every song. The singing was not dramatic,
in any way she knew. Sebastian did not identify himself with this
melancholy youth; he presented him as if he were a memory, not to
be brought too near into the present. One felt a long distance
between the singer and the scenes he was recalling, a long
perspective.
This evening Lucy tried to give some attention to the
accompanist— there was good reason, surely, if she were to attempt
to take his place tomorrow! Even at the other concert she had felt
that she had never heard anyone play for the voice so well. Die
Krahe, Der Wegweiser … there was something uncanny in that
young man's short, insinuating fingers. She admired him, but she
didn't like him. Was she jealous, already? No, something in his
physical personality set her on edge a little.
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