I have never heard the like from any human throat, and should not
have believed it possible. Only Joachim's violin can do such beautiful
things so beautifully.
Or else he would tell us of wolves he had shot in Brittany, or
wild-boars in Burgundy--for he was a great sportsman--or of his
adventures as a _garde du corps_ of Charles Dix, or of the wonderful
inventions that were so soon to bring us fame and fortune; and he would
loyally drink to Henri Cinq; and he was so droll and buoyant and witty
that it was as good to hear him speak as to hear him sing.
But there was another and a sad side to all this strange comedy of
vanished lives.
They built castles in the air, and made plans, and talked of all the
wealth and happiness that would be theirs when my father's ship came
home, and of all the good they would do, pathetically unconscious of the
near future; which, of course, was all past history to their loving
audience of one.
And then my tears would flow with the unbearable ache of love and pity
combined; they would fall and dry on the waxed floors of my old home in
Passy, and I would find them still wet on my pillow in Pentonville
when I woke.
* * * * *
Soon I discovered by practice that I was able for a second or two to be
more than a mere spectator--to be an actor once more; to turn myself
(Ibbetson) into my old self (Gogo), and thus be touched and caressed by
those I had so loved.
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