A Russian Proprietor, and Other StoriesTolstoy, Leo, graf
General
A Russian Proprietor, and Other Stories
Tolstoy, Leo, graf
Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Tolstoy, Leo, graf, 1828-1910 -- Translations into English
Now bitter-sweet, now vehemently despairing, the notes, freely
intermingling, poured forth and poured forth, so sweetly, so powerfully,
and so spontaneously, that it was not so much that sounds were heard, as
that some sort of beautiful stream of poetry, long known, but now for the
first time expressed, gushed through the soul.
At each note that he played, Albert grew taller and taller. At a little
distance, he had no appearance of being either crippled or peculiar.
Pressing the violin to his chin, and with an expression of listening with
passionate attention to the tones that he produced, he convulsively moved
his feet. Now he straightened himself up to his full height, now
thoughtfully leaned forward.
His left hand, curving over spasmodically on the strings, seemed as though
it had swooned in its position, while it was only the bony fingers that
changed about spasmodically; the right hand moved smoothly, gracefully,
without effort.
His face shone with complete, enthusiastic delight; his eyes gleamed with a
radiant, steely light; his nostrils quivered, his red lips were parted in
rapture.
Sometimes his head bent down closer to his violin, his eyes almost closed,
and his face, half shaded by his long locks, lighted up with a smile of
genuine blissfulness. Sometimes he quickly straightened himself up, changed
from one leg to the other, and his pure forehead, and the radiant look
which he threw around the room, were alive with pride, greatness, and the
consciousness of power. Once the pianist made a mistake, and struck a false
chord. Physical pain was apparent in the whole form and face of the
musician. He paused for a second, and with an expression of childish anger
stamped his foot, and cried, "_Moll, ce moll!_" The pianist corrected his
mistake; Albert closed his eyes, smiled, and, again forgetting himself and
everybody else, gave himself up with beatitude to his work. Everybody who
was in the room while Albert was playing preserved an attentive silence,
and seemed to live and breathe only in the music.
The gay officer sat motionless in a chair by the window, with his eyes
fixed upon the floor, and drawing long heavy sighs. The girls, awed by the
universal silence, sat along by the walls, only occasionally exchanging
glances expressive of satisfaction or perplexity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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