LOVE SONG

Auckland Star, 2 September 1933, Page 11 (Supplement)

LOVE SONG

By ARTHUR HARDY

CHAPTER L Telmar. The great opera of "Aida" was finished. Radames, clasping Aida in his arms, had sung the inspired music with an intensity that held the vast audience spellbound. Tenor and soprano had united in the final addio, and the concluding lines of the opera, beautifully voiced by the Amneris, wailed in infinite sadness to the remotest corners of the mighty opera house. And then —silence. Nobody moved. The season at Covent Garden was the most brilliant within living memory, and the young tenor Paul Telmar, heard that night for the first time in the part of Radames, had scored triumph upon triumph. "Boheme," " Tosca," "Eigoletto," "Carmen," "Faust"—these made up the sequence of performances up to date, and in every opera Telmar had scored an unequivocal triumph. In " Boheme " the art student, in " Tosca " the despairing Cavaradossi, in "Rigoletto" the graceful and youthful duke, in " Carmen" the spellbound eoldier, in "Faust" the passionate lover; all had been brilliantly played. Old habitues and patrons of the Royal Opera House could not recall within memory a singer who united such elegance and boyish grace with a voice of unexampled timbre and exquisite purity. Telmar convinced. And apart from his magnificent singing he had proved himself be to an actor of exceptional ability. Not only did ho sing with consummate mastery the music of the role ho portrayed, but he lived the character. And to-night, ae Radames, from the very first notes of "Celeste Aida," he held the distinguished and critical audience in the hollow of his hand. His triumphant entry, borne upon the shoulders of his victorious warriors, in the third scene of the great second act, had created a. sensation. Young, handsome, athletically built, he looked the conqueror to the life.

His ringing notes rose above blaring trumpets and thundering voices, and, moving onward unsparingly from strength to strength, he soared to a climax which completely eclipsed the famous soprano Maria Jonitz. The most perfect, if not the most elaborate or pretentious opera house in the world, shook under the thunder of cheering and handclapping which followed the flooding of the lights. "Bravo! Telmar! Telmar! H-r-r-rh!" The ranging boxes of crimson and gold provided a perfect setting for the beautiful women and well-groomed men who had come to hear Telmar sing. Perhaps the slow-moving tide of prosperity,' following upon desperate and difficult times, was responsible for the display of diamonds and flashing jewels, which once again niado the brilliant picture complete. Jonitz advanced bowing, her beautiful if somewhat petulant face aglow as she listened to the thunder of applause, and reached her" hand down for tho great basket of orchids which one of the musicians handed up to her from the orchestra. welL Cora Schumann, tho Amneris, was led closer to the footlights by Telmar. The'Amonasro and the other principals came on from the side and the applause thundered anew. "Telmar Telmar." Paul Telmar shook his head and laughed. He had bowed his acknowledgments with the others, but he did not wish to be singled out for special praise when there were so many who had contributed magnificently to the great performance. With a gesture ho pointed to the conductor and then with a sweep of his hand included the entire orchestra. The Maestro bowed. "Telmar! Telmar!" Maria jonitz turned and taking the tenor by, the arm'led him forward, then pushed him right in front of the principals, shaking her pretty head and pointing to Paul as if resigning to him the entire credit of an unexampled performance. • ■ , Telmar, caught, bowed, then turned smilingly away. ■ , , But the theatre was rocking to the din of handclapping and cheering. And again Jonitz pushed Telmar forward, and this time eho and Cora Schumann prevented him from backing away. The other principals were adding their applause to that of the audience. The members of the orchestra were up to their feet applauding,, too, as they do when, on rare occasions, they have listened to an exceptional artist.

The thunder deepened. • ; "Paul," said Maria, "they want you. It is not for us they applaud, they want y °Her lips tightened, then relaxed in a generous smile. The momentary flame of jealousy in her fine eyes died. , "Oil, you were wonderful, she signed. It was the first time she had ever felt lierself completely eclipsed; out then what would you have, when you find yourself nip against eucli a voice. ?'Bravo! Bravo!" Telmar bowed. He turned away, was caught by Schumann and bowed again and° again, radiant, boyish, smiling. And then Jonitz, snatching her basket of orchids, gave it to him, tip-toed to reach him and kissed him spontaneously first on one cheek and then on the other, leaving the imprint of highly coralled lips upon a sun-tanned make up. It was the tribute of one great artist to another, the gracious .gesture-arous-ing the audience to a further pitch of frenzy. ' 'laughter mingled with the cheers. There came a roar of Jonitz. "I say," said Paul blushing beneath his grease paint and laughing at Jonitz, "you shouldn't have done that, Maria." "Why not?" she asked. "Men have often earned a kiss from me, but not for their singing before. Yousang so gloriously you made me feel like a — fool." The curtains fell in place, shutting the stage from view. But the clamorous audience had not finished. : They called again for Telmar, and as the etage was. revealed once more a mighty shout of "C-a-m-br-i-d-g-e" rang .'above the, thunderous plaudits. • And then the curtains closed again to a roar of delighted laughter. That cry C-a-m-b-r-i-d-g-e had been heard at Fenners when Paul had scored in inter-College sports. It ■ had been heard a<*ain when Paul had won the half-mile for his 'Varsity against Oxford at the White City Stadium in 1.53 1-.5. 'But it was the first time in operatic records that a 'Varsity blue had scored triumph after triumph at Covcnt Garden and very likely it would be the last, and so the old cry was heard once more. A physically " fc n ? KI trained athletic" tenor gifted with a voice of magic ..was truly something of an anomaly. '■-'■*, ... • .

CHAPTER IL A Birthday Invitation. Paul Telmar's one great desire, the opera ended, was to gain his dressing room and change, but he stood no chance at all. Upon one pretext or another wealthy patrons of Coveiit Garden came to see him. A prince, many titled peopfe from abroad, brilliant amateurs, beautiful women a-glittor with diamonds or bedecked with precious gems, crowded to meet him. An eminent musical critic, a famous conductor of other days, some mighty singers of a past decade, inany of whom were brilliant even now, came to shower upon him their congratulations. Paul escaped from one greup, was imprisoned by another. He 6miled graciously, took his honours easily and without fass. "Wherever did you cultivate such a wonderful vojco?" asked a simpering dowager tapping him coquettishly with her fan. Paul laughed gaily. "Oh, it is natuial I suppose. My father was a great singer. My mother, too. My great-great-grandfather was a music teacher in Italy in the time of Napoleon. I could always eing, madame." "But your acting! So spontaneous, so vivid, so—convincing." "You flatter me. I suppose I am lucky. It comes easy to me to act. But then I had great examples to follow; my father, my grandfather, and tho incomparable Pcratti, who was my father's greatest friend. I used to watch rehearsals at La Scala almost as eoon as I could walk, madame." And then a tall, monocled peer, who detained Paul as the singer attempted onco more to get away. "A great show, Telmar," said he vacuously. "The way you topped that second act was marvellous. I'm not a lover of Verdi, mind; too old fashioned; but it was a damned good evening."

' The manager came to Paul, drew him away, introduced him to a prince -who ' was fluttering round Jonitz, and still the • ordeal went on. 1 Paul graciously endured the flattery. J After all, it was nice to be praised. His ' eyes roamed the faces near him. If only ho could find eome excuse to get . away ? , It was Augustus Falder, tho very ( popular composer of light songs and jazz tunes, who provided him with the opportunity. 'tunity. ' "Paul!" Falder cried, as tio advancec towards the brilliant circle that sur--1 rounded Jonitz, spreading wide his arms. "My dear fellow, you were superb." Paul gripped Falder by the arm. "Gue," he whispered, "Get mo out of ; here. I hate it. Talk! Talk! Nothing 1 but talk. I want to change, to get rid of the make-up—and I have other things in view." Augustus Falder linked arms graciously and drew Telmar away. "I am sure you will all excuse us," he said, looking round at the eager faces. "Wo liavo a matter of importance- to discuss." Falder was a very striking personality in his dapper little way. A small man, but perfectly groomed. Complexion clear, and habitually pale, eyes grey and frank and open, lips upward curved in an everlasting smile, hair always elaborately oiled and brushed right back; his clothes fitted perfectly, his voice was soft and every word perfectly : articulated. Augustus knew everybody and was greatly liked. And if there were severe critics, who declared that he never wrote ■ real music in his life, yet tho composi- . tions which bore his name were immensely popular and he earned a fortune in fees in one year from Einaldi the publisher alone. With the hand of his linked right arm he patted Paul playfully. "My boy," he declared, "you were great. Almost the best ever, not forgetting Caruso. It is not only that you have such a splendid voice, but you can eing; and that cannot be said of everyone. You deserved your triumph." "I say, do you mean that?" Paul was blushing beneath his make-up. Falder was not one to be carried away by a flood tide of enthusiasm, i "Of course I do. What a Hadames! From the very first note to the last, my boy. I felt eorry for poor Jonitz. And for the first time I saw her sung to pieces and she did not mind. Actually rewarded her conqueror with a basket of flowers." Paul laughed at Falder's quizzical glance and friendly smile. '•I told Preston to take them to Maria's dressing room when I came off," he said'. "I couldn't allow, that." "Well, it will mean a row, my boy," predicted Falder. "Maria likes everything her own way. Have you forgotten she kissed you?" "In front of the audience. It was spontaneous, Gus." "H'm, yes. Maria is often spontaneous. And each time that happens she chooses another husband. She divorced Count Ravello last November, and there's nothing she detests more than living alone. Look out, Paul, or else you'll become her fourth husband." "Oh, rot! Maria is just a friend —she "She has marked you down, my boy," returned Falder, "so watch, your step. Now slip along while you have the chance, and change." The door was near. Paul darted through it. To his relief he found the way to his dressing room almost clear. And he ran. Preston, his dresser, a withered looking man in sombre black, with wisps of hair straggling over an almost bald head, closed the door behind him, and came at once to help to remove the clothes the singer wore. Paul greased his face and wiped the colour off with a towel which he threw into a basket. Then he washed, and leaning hack in his chair, studied his •eflection in the great mirror. A suntanned boyish face looked out at him. Not the slightest trace of Eadames the conqueror remained. "A great night, sir," ventured Preston. "It was! I don't think I have ever sung as well, Preston. And it seemed so easy. I actually felt sorry when the opera was over." "Madame Jonitz wishes you to take supper with her to-night. She informed me before she went on for the last act, sir." "No," said Paul. And Preston eyed him quizzically. Preston had performed the functions of dr<v«or to of tin , grf'nt opei'll singers of hie tiiue; lie know their faulty and their virtues; lie had witnessed.hyeterical • scenes, temperamental outbursts

of astonisMng violence among the big operatic etars, and Ilia experiences would have filled and made a startling book. "Is that wise, sir?" he asked. Paul swung himself round in.his chair. "Wise? What the devil do you mean? Did you take that baeket of orchids to Madame Jonitz's dressing room ae I told you ?" "Yes, sir." "Good! Now I want yon to go round to Signor Pegler and ask him to come to my dressing room when he is ready. Ask Cora Schumann too. Tell Madame I would like- her to come to me as soon as ehe w dressed. Find Mr. Falder. I want him also. Oh," ae Preston was opening the door, "invite Signor Frattini and Monsieur Dumont ae well. Tell them I have a surprise waiting for them." "Very good, eir." Preston vanished on his mission. Paul, left to hiineelf, quickly changed. A pull at his white bow tie, a smoothing into position of hie tail coat, a flick of tho brush over his curly hair, while he hummed a tune. He slipped a note case into hie breast pocket, a bunch of keye and money off the dressing table were stowed away. He lit a cigarette, was ready. And not too soon; for laughing, happy voices rang in the paesage, and the door opened to admit Maria Jonitz, followed by Preston, carrying in his right hand tho basket of orchids. Behind them crowded the men, headed by Falder and the baritone Pegler, a bigbodied, good-natured giant. Maria, as usual, looked entrancingly beautiful. Perhaps a trifle mature, Paul thought, but very beautiful. Her flashing eyes devoured him as, behind her shoulder, Falder favoured him with a warning frown. "You naughty boy," cooed the diva. "Don't you know it is rude to refuse a present from a gracious lady; I insist that you take the orchids home." "But what about the poor devil who sent them you?" Paul asked. Maria shrugged her rounded shoulders. "Count Zamoyski! He ie of no consequence. They are mine. I give them to you. And now, what is the little secret, Paul?" "The secret! Ah, the secret!" Paul' 3 eyes danced as he faced the company. "Well—it ie my birthday" A chorus of delight and protest interrupted him. "You didn't let us know. Was that fair? His birthday. What then?" "Paul's birthday! Then I insist that he accept my flowers!" Thi3 from Jonitz. "Very well, Maria. I will take them. Thanks! And now I want you all to come and have supper with me. I have arranged it as a surprise." They showered their congratulations upon him and accepted gladly. Maria linked her bejewelled right arm with Paul's, gazing languishingly out of her violet eyes into his eyce of blue. "Where shall wo have supper, then, Paul?" "I have reserved tables at the Malmaison. I thought you would like it." "Lai La! That ie splendid." "I have cars waiting. And as soon as you are ready we will go.' J "I am coming with you, Paul!" eaid the prima donna coquettish'y, and Faider inwardly groaned. He could remember three marital adventures of Maria's which had begun in just this particular way. Paul would have to be a he-man to escape the net. "Gue will come with us,' , said Paul hastily, scenting tho trap. "Otherwise we ehall overcrowd tho other care." "Of course!" Maria smilingly linked her other arni with Falder'3. "Gus must come with us. Bring along the flowers, Preston. I am just longing for my supper." With a wink at Paul, Falder swept tho prima donna to the door, whilst tiie others, one by one, shook hands with Telmar ae they offered their good wishes. Then the whole party trooped along the passage to the stage door of the opera house, where the cars were waiting. (To be continued daily.)