Reel Life (1914-1915)

REEL LIFE Supplement his arm encircling her. And as the sun in a golden riot of color sank down behind the foothills, Enid looked up into Calvin’s face and Calvin looked down into Enid’s — and their engagement was sealed in a kiss. ENID bit her lip and wiped away a tiny tear as she crumpled the short note which Calvin had posted on the night of his departure for Europe. He had not even expressed a desire to see her again— and she had thought— But then what could she have expected? To Calvin perhaps it meant nothing more than a mid-summer’s flirtation. Upon one thing, however, she was determined. She would go to the city and develop her latent talent. She found her father strangely compliant. He even gave her the name and address of the music master whom Calvin had recommended. And the following week found her installed in a kitchenette apartment in the great barn-like studio building up over the bal¬ let school. There fol¬ lowed interminable les¬ sons in fingering, in the correct handling of the bow, in technique and composition, with occa¬ sional visits to the public music chambers where masters of the instrument could be heard. Mizzio found Enid an apt pupil. Long after the other music students had ieft the studio, Enid stayed on. Together she and the master played over old scores that had long lain buried in the aged violinist’s dusty trunks. And with the passing months her prog¬ ress became more notice¬ able. At the end of the first year Mizzio intro¬ duced her to the public at a concert. Wisely, the master chose for her sim¬ ple, appealing selections, and at the conclusion of the recital a theatrical producer approached Enid and offered her the part of a Hungarian violinist in a Viennese operetta. Enid declined the offer and continued with her studies. The following September she learned that Calvin had returned to New York. She though at first that she would drop him a note. She abandoned the idea, how¬ ever, when she saw him in company with a French actress then playing at a theatre near Times Square. Fearing an accidental meeting, Enid finally told Miz¬ zio that she felt that she had made sufficient progress to warrant her discontinuing her violin lessons. The music master said nothing. Calvin already had told him the story of the young violiniste to whom he had virtually engaged himself before his hurried voyage to Europe ; Mizzio also had heard Enid’s pitiful history. Perhaps he had pieced the stories together. WHEN the Academy of Design gave its winter ex¬ hibition, the master took Enid to the gallery to view the exhibits. They wandered through several long corridors lined with the year’s work of a thousand artists, until finally they came to the main salon. And then Enid knew that she was still remembered. In a niche at the end of the hall a life-size portrait stood. The painting showed a girl in a blue gown with flowing golden hair playing a violin. The art critics of the newspapers and magazines were grouped aroundThe painting and many curious glances were cast at Enid as she stood at a distance viewing the reproduction of a scene which never would be erased from her memory. So Calvin had not forgotten, she thought. That night Calvin and the French actress entered the little cabaret frequented by artists, authors and actors, just off Fifth Avenue. As the evening grew late and Calvin felt himself suc¬ cumbing to his infatuation for the actress, he began to wish that he had not invited Mizzio to join him in a supper celebrating the triumph of his picture, “The Call of the Traumerei.” When the flush of the wine Was still upon him, Calvin’s inamorata sug¬ gested that they leave the cabaret. Calvin rose and was adjusting his com¬ panion’s wrap when he heard the first sweet strains of a familiar air. The smoke-filled atmos¬ phere of the cabaret cleared and he seemed to see himself again in a meadow vale seated at the feet of a brown-eyed country girl with her rosy cheeks pressed against a violin. The song was the Traumerei, and as Calvin lis¬ tened the wrap he was holding slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. The actress picked up her cloak impatiently and turned sharply. Calvin, however, had left her. Hurriedly he made his way through the crowded tables and up to the small cabaret stage. He turned to find Mizzio at his elbow. “She played the ‘Traumerei’ exceedingly well; did she not, my boy?” the master inquired. Calvin ignored the question. “Tell me where she is? Where shall I find her?” “She has left the city.” Calvin bowed his head. “Would you care very much to see her again, my boy?” For answer, Calvin tightened his grip upon the music master’s wrists and peered into the age-weary eyes. “Then seek her where you met her — in the Vale of the Traumerei.” And — but we must whisper it — it was there that Cal¬ vin found her! The Tale-teller v.