“Ah, but it has come back, Claire. It came back like a flash, just as suddenly as it left me. Listen!”
He strode over to the piano, and taking his violin out of the case, fingered it caressingly.
“Of course, they won’t let me practice yet. And I am all thumbs. But listen!”
Violin nestled beneath his chin, he began to play. Superlatively toned, the instrument hummed beneath his sweeping bow like a human thing. The penetrating sweetness pierced Claire’s heart. It sang a plaintive melody, simple as an ancient love song. The mellow tones rose higher and higher, finally repeating themselves in head notes clear and brittle as crystal. As the last note shrilled lingeringly upon the air, Claire smiled through tears into Alexis’ exalted face.
“Oh, Alexis, how happy I am for you! Shall you play in public again soon?”
He replaced the violin within its case, and crossing the room sat down beside her. “I hope to be ready for a recital the middle of January. From now on I shall practice every moment. Do you remember my old manager, Rosenfield? I’ve engaged him again. Funny fellow, but enthusiastic as ever.”
“Have you made any special plans?” Claire’s voice was strained. Would he never come to the point?
“Well,” he hesitated a moment, dreading how she might take what he was going to say, “Yes, I have. The doctors wanted me to go South for the rest of the winter, but I couldn’t bear to go away so far from” he faltered a little—“so far from New York and Rosenfield. I’m so anxious to get to work again. So we compromised on Long Island. The air is wonderful there. I have taken Karzimova’s house, the Russian actress, you know, until the first of May. It is an Italian villa, and rather gorgeous. She didn’t want to rent it, although she is in Europe, but when they cabled her who I was and that I had been ill, she gave in rather graciously, and let me have it for a ridiculous price. They say she is mad about music.”
So this was what she had come to hear? She was to lose Alexis entirely, then?
“When are you moving out?”