Riven Bonds. Vol. I. / A Novel, in Two Volumes

by E. Werner

He ceased, as Hugo, who until now had been talking to the ladies, came to them, and immediately after the concert commenced.

The first part and half of the second passed, according to the programme, with more or less lively interest for the audience. Only towards the close did Signora Biancona appear, whose performance, notwithstanding all that had so far been heard, formed the point of attraction of the evening. The audience received and greeted their favourite, whose pale features were more charming than ever, with loud applause. Beatrice was indeed radiantly beautiful as she stood under the streaming light of the chandelier, in a flowing gauze dress strewn with flowers, and roses in her dark hair. She acknowledged it with smiling thanks on all sides, and, when the conductor, who undertook the accompaniment, had seated himself at the piano, began her recitative.

This time it was one of those grand Italian bravura airs, which at every concert and on every stage are certain of success, and demand the audience's applause without at the same time fulfilling higher requirements. A number of brilliant passages and effects made up for the depth, which was really wanting in the composition, but it offered the Italian an opportunity for perfect display of her magnificent voice. All these runs and trills fell clearly as a bell from her lips, and took such entrancing possession of the hearers' ears and senses, that all criticism, all more serious longings, vanished in the pure enjoyment of listening. It was a charming playing with tones--to be sure, only playing, nothing more--but combined with the finished certainty and grace of the performance, it acted like electricity upon the audience, who overwhelmed the singer more lavishly than usual with applause, and stormily encored the air da capo.

Signora Biancona seemed also inclined to accede to this wish as she came forward again, but at the same moment the conductor left the piano, and a young man, who had hitherto not been observed among the other performers, took his place. The spectators stared in astonishment, the Consul and his wife gazed at him in surprise; even Hugo at the first moment looked almost shocked at his brother, whose presence he had not suspected, but he began to guess at the connection. Only Dr. Welding said quietly, and without the least surprise, "I thought it!" Reinhold looked pale, and his hands trembled on the keys; but Beatrice stood at his side--a softly-whispered word from her mouth, a glance out of her eyes, gave him back his lost courage. He began the first chords steadily and quietly, which at once told the audience it was not to be a repetition of their favourite piece. All listened wonderingly and eagerly, and then Beatrice joined in.

That was certainly something very different from the bravura air just heard. The melodies which now flowed forth had nothing in common with those runs and trills, but they made their way to the hearers' hearts. In those tones, which now rose as in stormy rejoicing, and again sank in sad complaint, there seemed to breathe the whole happiness and sorrow of a human life; a long-fettered yearning seemed at last to struggle forth. It was a language of affecting power and beauty, and if it was not quite understood by all, yet all felt that there was a sound of something powerful, everlasting in it; even the most indifferent superficial crowd cannot remain void of feeling when genius speaks to it.

And here genius had found its mate, who knew how to follow and perfect it. There was no more talk of a risk for both, as the one met the idea of the other. The most careful study could not have given so perfect a mutual understanding as was here created in a moment and by inspiration. Reinhold found himself comprehended in every note, grasped at every turn, and never had Beatrice sung so enchantingly, never had the spirit of her singing displayed itself so much. She took her part with glowing abandon; the talent of the singer and the dramatic power of the actress flowed together. It was a performance which would have ennobled even the most insignificant composition--here it became a double triumph.

The song was ended. The breathless silence with which it had been listened to continued a few seconds longer; no hand moved, no sign of applause was heard; but then a storm broke forth, such as even the fêted prima donna had seldom heard, and at any rate is unknown in a concert-room. Beatrice seemed only to have waited for this moment; in the next she had stepped to Reinhold, seized his hand, and drawn him with her to the foot-lights, introducing him to the audience. This one movement said enough; it was understood at once that the composer stood before them. The storm of applause for both raged anew, and the young musician, still half-bewildered by the unexpected success, holding Beatrice's hand, received the first greeting and first approbation of the crowd.

Reinhold only returned clearly to consciousness in the assembly-room, whither he had accompanied Signora Biancona; a few moments of solitude still remained to him; beyond, in the concert-room, the orchestra was playing the finale to a most indifferent audience, which was still completely impressed by what it had just heard. Beatrice withdrew her arm which lay in that of her companion.

"We have conquered," she said, softly; "were you satisfied with my song?"

With a passionate movement, Reinhold seized both her hands, "Ask not this question, Signora! Let me thank you, not for the triumph, which was more yours than mine, but that I was also permitted to hear my song from your lips. I composed it in the recollection of you--for you alone, Beatrice. You have understood what it says to you, otherwise you could not have sung it in such a manner."