The Fifth String Page 6

  VI

  When Diotti left New York so precipitately he took passage on a coastline steamer sailing for the Bahama Islands. Once there, he leased asmall cay, one of a group off the main land, and lived alone andunattended, save for the weekly visits of an old fisherman and his son,who brought supplies of provisions from the town miles away. Hisdwelling-place, surrounded with palmetto trees, was little more than arough shelter. Diotti arose at daylight, and after a simple repast,betook himself to practise. Hour after hour he would let his muse runriot with his fingers. Lovingly he wooed the strings with plaintivesong, then conquering and triumphant would be his theme. But neithersatisfied him. The vague dream of a melody more beautiful than everman had heard dwelt hauntingly on the borders of his imagination, butwas no nearer realization than when he began. As the day's work closed,he wearily placed the violin within its case, murmuring, "Not yet, notyet; I have not found it."

  Days passed, weeks crept slowly on; still he worked, but always withthe same result. One day, feverish and excited, he played on inmonotone almost listless. His tired, over-wrought brain denied afurther thought. His arm and fingers refused response to his will. Withan uncontrollable outburst of grief and anger he dashed the violin tothe floor, where it lay a hopeless wreck. Extending his arms he cried,in the agony of despair: "It is of no use! If the God of heaven willnot aid me, I ask the prince of darkness to come."

  A tall, rather spare, but well-made and handsome man appeared at thedoor of the hut. His manner was that of one evidently conversant withthe usages of good society.

  "I beg pardon," said the musician, surprised and visibly nettled at theintrusion, and then with forced politeness he asked: "To whom am Iindebted for this unexpected visit?"

  "Allow me," said the stranger taking a card from his case and handingit to the musician, who read: "Satan," and, in the lower left-handcorner "Prince of Darkness."

  "I am the Prince," said the stranger, bowing low.

  There was no hint of the pavement-made ruler in the information hegave, but rather of the desire of one gentleman to set another right atthe beginning. The musician assumed a position of open-mouthed wonder,gazing steadily at the visitor.

  "Satan?" he whispered hoarsely.

  "You need help and advice," said the visitor, his voice sounding likethat of a disciple of the healing art, and implying that he hadthoroughly diagnosed the case.

  "No, no," cried the shuddering violinist; "go away. I do not need you."

  "I regret I can not accept that statement as gospel truth," said Satan,sarcastically, "for if ever a man needed help, you are that man."

  "But not from you," replied Diotti.

  "That statement is discredited also by your outburst of a few momentsago when you called upon me."

  "I do not need you," reiterated the musician. "I will have none ofyou!" and he waved his arm toward the door, as if he desired theinterview to end.

  "I came at your behest, actuated entirely by kindness of heart," saidSatan.

  Diotti laughed derisively, and Satan, showing just the slightestfeeling at Diotti's behavior, said reprovingly: "If you will listen amoment, and not be so rude to an utter stranger, we may reach someconclusion to your benefit."

  "Get thee behind--"

  "I know exactly what you were about to say. Have no fears on thatscore. I have no demands to make and no impossible compacts to insistupon."

  "I have heard of you before," knowingly spoke the violinist nodding hishead sadly.

  "No doubt you have," smilingly. "My reputation, which has suffered atthe hands of irresponsible people, is not of the best, and places me attimes in awkward positions. But I am beginning to live it down." Thestranger looked contrition itself. "To prove my sincerity I desire tohelp you win her love," emphasizing her.

  "How can you help me?"

  "Very easily. You have been wasting time, energy and health in a wilddesire to play better. The trouble lies not with you."

  "Not with me?" interrupted the violinist, now thoroughly interested.

  "The trouble lies not with you," repeated the visitor, "but with themiserable violin you have been using and have just destroyed," and hepointed to the shattered instrument.

  Tears welled from the poor violinist's eyes as he gazed on thefragments of his beloved violin, the pieces lying scattered about asthe result of his unfortunate anger.

  "It was a Stradivarius," said Diotti, sadly.

  "Had it been a Stradivarius, an Amati or a Guarnerius, or a host ofothers rolled into one, you would not have found in it the melody towin the heart of the woman you love. Get a better and more suitableinstrument."

  "Where is one?" earnestly interrogated Diotti, vaguely realizing thatSatan knew.

  "In my possession," Satan replied.

  "She would hate me if she knew I had recourse to the powers of darknessto gain her love," bitterly interposed Diotti.

  Satan, wincing at this uncomplimentary allusion to himself, repliedrather warmly: "My dear sir, were it not for the fact that I feel inparticularly good spirits this morning, I should resent your ill-timedremarks and leave you to end your miserable existence with rope orpistol," and Satan pantomimed both suicidal contingencies.

  "Do you want the violin or not?"

  "I might look at it," said Diotti, resolving mentally that he could goso far without harm.

  "Very well," said Satan. He gave a long whistle.

  An old man, bearing a violin case, came within the room. He bowed tothe wondering Diotti, and proceeded to open the case. Taking theinstrument out the old man fondled it with loving and tendersolicitude, pointing out its many beauties--the exquisite blending ofthe curves, the evenness of the grain, the peculiar coloring, thelovely contour of the neck, the graceful outlines of the body, thescroll, rivaling the creations of the ancient sculptors, the solidityof the bridge and its elegantly carved heart, and, waxing exceedinglyenthusiastic, holding up the instrument and looking at it as one doesat a cluster of gems, he added, "the adjustment of the strings."

  "That will do," interrupted Satan, taking the violin from the littleman, who bowed low and ceremoniously took his departure. Then thedevil, pointing to the instrument, asked: "Isn't it a beauty?"

  The musician, eying it keenly, replied: "Yes, it is, but not the kindof violin I play on."

  "Oh, I see," carelessly observed the other, "you refer to that extrastring."

  "Yes," answered the puzzled violinist, examining it closely.

  "Allow me to explain the peculiar characteristics of this magnificentinstrument," said his satanic majesty. "This string," pointing to theG, "is the string of pity; this one," referring to the third, "is thestring of hope; this," plunking the A, "is attuned to love, while thisone, the E string, gives forth sounds of joy.

  "You will observe," went on the visitor, noting the intense interestdisplayed by the violinist, "that the position of the strings is thesame as on any other violin, and therefore will require no additionalstudy on your part."

  "But that extra string?" interrupted Diotti, designating the middle oneon the violin, a vague foreboding rising within him.

  "That," said Mephistopheles, solemnly, and with no pretense ofsophistry, "is the string of death, and he who plays upon it dies atonce."

  "The--string--of--death!" repeated the violinist almost inaudibly.

  "Yes, the string of death," Satan repeated, "and he who plays upon itdies at once. But," he added cheerfully, "that need not worry you. Inoticed a marvelous facility in your arm work. Your staccato andspiccato are wonderful. Every form of bowing appears child's play toyou. It will be easy for you to avoid touching the string."

  "Why avoid it? Can it not be cut off?"

  "Ah, that's the rub. If you examine the violin closely you will findthat the string of death is made up of the extra lengths of the otherfour strings. To cut it off would destroy the others, and then pity,hope, love and joy would cease to exist in the soul of the violin."

  "How like life itself," Diotti reflected, "pity,
hope, love, joy end indeath, and through death they are born again."

  "That's the idea, precisely," said Satan, evidently relieved byDiotti's logic and quick perception.

  The violinist examined the instrument with the practised eye of anexpert, and turning to Satan said: "The four strings are beautifullywhite and transparent, but this one is black and odd looking.

  "What is it wrapped with?" eagerly inquired Diotti, examining the deathstring with microscopic care.

  "The fifth string was added after an unfortunate episode in the Gardenof Eden, in which I was somewhat concerned," said Satan, soberly. "Itis wrapped with strands of hair from the first mother of man."Impressively then he offered the violin to Diotti.

  "I dare not take it," said the perplexed musician; "it's from--"

  "Yes, it is directly from there, but I brought it from heaven when I--Ileft," said the fallen angel, with remorse in his voice. "It was myconstant companion there. But no one in my domain--not I, myself--canplay upon it now, for it will respond neither to our longing for pity,hope, love, joy, nor even death," and sadly and retrospectively Satangazed into vacancy; then, after a long pause: "Try the instrument!"

  Diotti placed the violin in position and drew the bow across the stringof joy, improvising on it. Almost instantly the birds of the forestdarted hither and thither, caroling forth in gladsome strains. Thedevil alone was sad, and with emotion said:

  "It is many, many years since I have heard that string."

  Next the artist changed to the string of pity, and thoughts of theworld's sorrows came over him like a pall.

  "Wonderful, most wonderful!" said the mystified violinist; "with thisinstrument I can conquer the world!"

  "Aye, more to you than the world," said the tempter, "a woman's love."

  A woman's love--to the despairing suitor there was one and only one inthis wide, wide world, and her words, burning their way into his heart,had made this temptation possible: "No drooping Clytie could be moreconstant than I to him who strikes the chord that is responsive in mysoul."

  Holding the violin aloft, he cried exultingly: "Henceforth thou artmine, though death and oblivion lurk ever near thee!"