LEGEND OF THE FIRST VIOLIN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6120, 5 March 1898, Page 7

LEGEND OF THE FIRST VIOLIN.

[Bt A tjbertine .Woodward Moore.] (Harper's Bazaar.) In the quiet town of Salo there dwelt, late in the sixteenth century, a skilful lute-maker, who taught his only son, Gaspar, all the mystorie3 of his own trade. The lad was bright and industrious, his f attar's delight, his mother's pride. Mother Gasparo know lifctlo about the tone of the instruments her boy helped fashion, but she did know they were pleasing to behold, with their decorations o£ gold, silver, ivory, and mother-of-pearl. She also knew that Gaspar was handsome, and thought a smile flashed from his sparkling black eyes, while his rosy lips displayed pearly teeth, must win any highborn lady in the cities where he sold lutes. She aspired to a grand marriage for him. But Gaspar cared only for Marietta, a pupil of the Franciscan nuns, who sang iu the covent choir. Like a golden wave of lieht her voice flooded the chapel where he attended mass every morning, making the ! lad's heart leap with rapture. She was a motherless fishermaiden, and from earliest childhood shu and Gaspar had been playmates in the perf uineJ groves and on the pebbly strand. They had chased each other from rock to rock, and had parsed hours together darting over the waves in a tiny fishinjr-smack, while white-wingee birds slowly circled above their heads. The pretty child exercised a wonderful | influence over the lute-maker's son with her winning ways, and still more with her silvery clear voice. People said she bewitched the fi3h so they sought her father's nets to listen to her singing. Marietta was a welcomo visitor at the Gasparo workshop, and she loved to watch the construction of the lutes, in which she said Father Gasparo imprisoned the tones. When she sang, every string vibrated in response to her voice, and the old lute-maker smiled with approval, while young Gasparo floated in blisslul dreams. Mother Gaspar alone was dissatisfied, and bitterly bemoaned the spell being cast over her son. At length a mighty storm swept Lake Garda, such as the oldest inhabitant ' had never before known. The waves lashed each other in fury, and hideous wailing was heard. Not one of the, fishermen who rowed merrily forth in the morning evei" came home. Among them was Marietta's father. Gaspar led the orphan girl to his mother. With much show of sympathythe wily woman offered Marietta a home; but first, duty would compel the girl, she said, to retire for a few weeks to the convent to pray for her. father's unshrived soul. Once having lured her victim into the cloister, Mother Gasparo proposed to keep her there. Weeks became months, and still Marietta remained with the nuns. When Gaspar. sent her loving messages by his mother, imploring her to couie home, word was brought him that she was having her voice trained, and was happier where she was. Caspar's sole consolation was the maiden's singing at morning mass. He ceased to speak of her at last, and hie mother began to hope that a brilliant match might yet be possible. His father wistfully wondered why Marietta muGfc needs be a nun. Meanwhile, the youth's cheeks lost their freshness, his eyes their fire, and one day word went out that he was ill unto death. In his delirium he called for Marietta,, praying she might be transformed into a lute and brought to him. It was night when the crisis came; a priest was summoned, and the young life seemed fast ebbing away. Gaspar's father prayed at his bedside, but his mother sped wildly to the Franciscan chapel. Prostrating herself before the Madonna's shrine, she rowed that Gaspar should marry Marietta if his life were spared. At this moment Gaspar was roused by a kiss softly breathed on his brow. Before him appeared a slender form robed in the cloister's sombre garb. "It is I, Gaspar, your own Marietta," fell on his ear. " They would have made me a nun to-morrow, but I know a better veil than this I wear. Wait for me." Gaspar recovered. The Blessed Virgin had wrought a miracle, it was said, in answer to a mother's prayer. But Gaspar declared Marietta had kissed him to life.

water-lilies on the. morning after-his- vision, v It was not until he was well enough to attend mass that he was told Marietta had joined tho angelic choir. Hjb did not murmur ; he shed no tear; but he asked for a workshop of his own where he might labour undisturbed. "Marietta's voice hovers about me night and day," said .he, wearily. "I must transform it into a lute^ He toiled early and late, but years passed before the golden tones were 'imprisoned in. the first violin.