In Midsummer Days and Other Tales | Page 6

in a strange new key, only heard
in the dreams of those who dream of giving a new message to the world.
But they never thought of looking for any outside source, they believed
that it was the song which their own hearts were singing.
Next a couple of annual visitors came sauntering along; they knew the
trick and took a delight in saying in a loud voice:
"It is the submerged piano of the master of the mine."
But whenever there were only new arrivals present, who did not know
anything about it, they were puzzled and enjoyed the music, until some
of the older ones came and enlightened them. And then they enjoyed it
no longer.
The musical box lay there all the summer. The sticklebacks taught their
art to the bass, who became much more expert. And the piano became a
regular fishing-ground for the summer guests, where they could always
be sure to catch bass; the pilots spread out their nets round about it, and
once a waiter fished there for red-eyes. But when his line with the old
bell weight had run out, and he tried to wind it up again, he heard a run
in X minor, and then the hook was caught. He pulled and pulled, and in
the end he brought up five fingers with wool at the fingertips, and the
bones cracked like the bones of a skeleton. Then he was frightened and
flung his catch back into the sea, although he knew quite well what it
was.
In the dog days, when the water is warm and all the fish retire to the
greater depths to enjoy the coolness, the music ceased. But on a
moonlit night in August, the summer guests held a regatta. The master
of the mine and his wife were present. They sat in a white boat and
were slowly rowed about by their sons. And as their boat was gliding
over the black water, the surface of which was like silver and gold in
the moonlight, they heard a sound of music just below their boat.
"Ha ha!" laughed the master of the mine, "listen to our old piano! Ha
ha!"

But he was silent when he saw that his wife hung her head, in the way
pelicans do in pictures; it looked as if she wanted to bite her own neck
and hide her face.
The old piano and its long history had awakened memories in her of the
first dining-room they furnished together, the first of their children
which had had music lessons, the boredom of the long evenings, only
to be chased away by the crashing volumes of sound which overcame
the dulness of everyday life, changed bad temper into cheerfulness, and
lent new beauty even to the old furniture . . . . But that is a story which
belongs elsewhere.
When it was autumn and the winter wind began to blow, the pilchards
came in their thousands and swam through the musical box. It was like
a farewell concert, and nothing else, and the seagulls and stormy petrels
came in crowds to listen to it. And in the night the musical box was
carried out to sea; that was the end of the matter.

THE SLUGGARD
Conductor Crossberg was fond of lying in bed in the morning, firstly,
because he had to conduct the orchestra in the evening, and secondly,
because he drank more than one glass of beer before he went home and
to bed. He had tried once or twice to get up early, but had found no
sense in it. He had called on a friend, but had found him asleep; he had
wanted to pay money into the bank, but had found it still closed; he had
gone to the library to borrow music, but it was not yet open; he had
wanted to use the electric trams, but they had not yet started running. It
was impossible to get a cab at this hour of the morning; he could not
even buy a pinch of his favourite snuff; there was nothing at all for him
to do. And so he had eventually formed the habit of staying in bed until
late; and after all, he had no one to please but himself.
He loved the sun and flowers and children; but he could not live on the
sunny side of the street on account of his delicate instruments, which
were out of tune almost as soon as they were put into a sunny room.

Therefore, on the 1st of April, he took rooms which faced north. He
was quite sure that there was no mistake about this, for he carried a
compass on his watch-chain, and he could find the Great Bear in the
evening sky.