Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
123
He
had
not
considered
what
he
would
play
tonight.
Nor,
maybe,
was
he
conscious
now
of
choosing.
His
fingers
caressed
the
keyboard
vaguely;
and
anon
this
ivory
had
voice
and
language;
and
for
its
master,
and
for
some
of
his
hearers,
arose
a
vision.
And
it
was
as
though
in
delicate
procession,
very
slowly,
listless
with
weeping,
certain
figures
passed
by,
hooded,
and
drooping
forasmuch
as
by
the
loss
of
him
whom
they
were
following
to
his
grave
their
own
hold
on
life
had
been
loosened.
He
had
been
so
beautiful
and
young.
Lo,
he
was
but
a
burden
to
be
carried
hence,
dust
to
be
hidden
out
of
sight.
Very
slowly,
very
wretchedly
they
went
by.
But,
as
they
went,
another
feeling,
faint
at
first,
an
all
but
imperceptible
current,
seemed
to
flow
through
the
procession;
and
now
one,
now
another
of
the
mourners
would
look
wanly
up,
with
cast-back
hood,
as
though
listening;
and
anon
all
were
listening
on
their
way,
first
in
wonder,
then
in
rapture;
for
the
soul
of
their
friend
was
singing
to
them:
they
heard
his
voice,
but
clearer
and
more
blithe
than
they
had
ever
known
it--a
voice
etherealised
by
a
triumph
of
joy
that
was
not
yet
for
them
to
share.
But
presently
the
voice
receded,
its
echoes
dying
away
into
the
sphere
whence
it
came.
It
ceased;
and
the
mourners
were
left
alone
again
with
their
sorrow,
and
passed
on
all
unsolaced,
and
drooping,
weeping.
Soon
after
the
Duke
had
begun
to
play,
an
invisible
figure
came
and
stood
by
and
listened;
a
frail
man,
dressed
in
the
fashion
of
1840;
the
shade
of
none
other
than
Frederic
Chopin.
Behind
whom,
a
moment
later,
came
a
woman
of
somewhat
masculine
aspect
and
dominant
demeanour,
mounting
guard
over
him,
and,
as
it
were,
ready
to
catch
him
if
he
fell.
He
bowed
his
head
lower
and
lower,
he
looked
up
with
an
ecstasy
more
and
more
intense,
according
to
the
procedure
of
his
Marche
Funebre.
And
among
the
audience,
too,
there
was
a
bowing
and
uplifting
of
heads,
just
as
among
the
figures
of
the
mourners
evoked.
Yet
the
head
of
the
player
himself
was
all
the
while
erect,
and
his
face
glad
and
serene.
Nobly
sensitive
as
was
his
playing
of
the
mournful
passages,
he
smiled
brilliantly
through
them.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
