The morning star faded away quickly, and there was only the dull grey dawn in the child’s sky. Her mother treated her request with laughter and put out the little Camilla’s hope with a flat refusal.
CHAPTER II.
SUNRISE.
It was the town talk. The women gathered round the fountain in the Place Royal and filled their water jars and gossiped about Salvatore Urso’s silly whim with his child. Madame Dubois settled her cap and gave it as her opinion that no good would come of such a foolish thing. Madame Tilsit knew better, if the child wanted to play, why, let her play. The priest would not forbid it. Madame Perche knew it was far better than teaching children to read. That would lead them to dreadful infidelity, and what not. Besides, what will you? M. Urso will do as he pleases with the child.
At its best Nantes is a sleepy place, and in those days it was more narrow, petty and gossipy than can be imagined. A small town in New England where every mother’s daughter can read is bad enough, but in a compact French town where every one must live next door or next floor to everybody else gossip runs wild. Totally ignorant of books or any matter outside of their own town, the people must needs fall back on themselves and quietly pick each other to pieces. Everybody had heard that Salvatore Urso, the flute player intended to teach his little girl the violin. Part of the town approved of this bold, audacious step and part of the town thought it eminently improper, if not positively wicked. There was the Urso party and the anti-Urso party. They talked and quarrelled over it for a long time in a fashion that was quite as narrow minded and petty as could be imagined and it was more than a year before the excitement subsided.
In the meantime the little Camilla was perfectly happy over her new violin. The first refusal had not discouraged her. She waited a few days and then repeated her request to her father. No. It could not be. This did not seem to disconcert her, for in a few days she again asked if she might have a violin and a teacher. This time the refusal was not so decided. Again and again did the little one ask for a violin—only a violin—that was enough. The importunate pleading carried the day and the father took the matter into consideration.
Boys might play the violin, but a girl. That was quite another thing. One girl had been known to play the violin. Mlle. Theresa Melanello had played the violin, why not Camilla? If she wished to play so much it must be that she had genius. Should it prove true she might become a famous artist and win a great fortune. Perhaps, even sooner, much money might come from the child’s playing.
Of course the child must at once go to Paris and enter the Conservatory of music. Paris was a long way off. It would cost a deal of money to get there and when there, it would cost a deal more to live, and there was no way of earning anything in Paris. The theatre, the church and the lessons enabled them to live tolerably well in Nantes. To give up these things would be simple folly. It could not be done. The prospect was brilliant, the way seemed inviting, but it was not available. In his doubt and perplexity over the matter M. Urso went to his friend and companion in the orchestra, Felix Simon. M. Simon played the first violin at the theatre, and one night they talked it over between the acts.
If Camilla was so exceedingly anxious to play she must have some latent talent. Should she prove a genius or a prodigy it might be the means of bringing the family a fortune. Paris offered the only field for instruction and Paris meant a very great deal of money. With her present limited resources the thing was not to be considered for a moment.
M. Simon heard it all patiently, talked with the child about it and before her very eyes turned himself into an angel by offering to teach her himself. At first the family could not believe that such good fortune was possible. Still, it was true. M. Simon would teach Camilla one year without pay if he might be allowed to have entire control of her studies. She was to follow his instructions in every thing, she was to have no “pieces” and was to give her whole time to her lessons. If, when the year’s instruction was finished, the child really showed a decided genius for the violin it might be well to talk about Paris. If she then exhibited merely a talent for the art, the instruction could be dropped and no harm or serious loss of time would come from it.
This liberal offer was, of course, accepted. M. Simon was a friend, indeed. They could never repay him. It was of no consequence he said. If Camilla proved her genius it would be reward enough to be known as her first teacher.