Violists | Page 7

he had felt a sudden chill at precisely the same time as she.
"The ensemble did well," she concluded. "I suppose that is the way Vivaldi would have heard the work too--none of these large, modern orchestras quite out of proportion to the delicacy of the music."
"The modern orchestra," stated the professor, "is well enough suited for modern works, but really, the intimacy required for performing earlier works--as Vivaldi for instance--is really lost in the great crowd of strings."
"Agreed."
Presently they came to the campus gates and found their way to a small cafe. Seated at a tiny marble table, they had a delightful tete-a-tete, and found much to agree upon regarding both the performance, and the subject of music in general. Though he had not quite her madness for Liszt, he agreed with Gretchen's assessment of the "Transcendental Etudes"--divinely inspired, and, like much of Liszt's work, nearly beyond the reach of mortals.
Gretchen was on her second coffee and feeling rather giddy. She could hardly hold her cup steady, and she finally set it down with a laugh.
"Do you play an instrument, Professor?" she asked, pushing her cup away with one hand.
"Well, I would not so much call it playing the instrument," he answered, "as playing at the instrument."
"I see," she laughed. "Rather the way I play at the viola--though I daresay you speak of Liszt's writing as if you have some experience with it."
The professor seemed rather at a loss for an instant. He glanced away over Gretchen's shoulder, but recalled himself quickly and lifted his cup to his lips, meeting her eyes again. "I do admit I have tried." He set his cup down while reaching into his vest pocket, as if searching for something. "But really," he continued, "I haven't the technique. How about yourself, Miss Haviland? I take it you do rather well yourself, upon the viola."
Gretchen blushed, realizing that she must have sounded boastful just then. The professor seemed not to have taken it in stride--she realized that this must have accounted for his momentary loss for words. "Well," she said then, settling herself forward upon her chair. "At one time--when I was quite young, you understand--I fancied I would perform upon the instrument. But..."
"Ah." Professor Bridwell smiled. "Then, other interests swept you away, no doubt. But still you play?" He had pulled a silver cigarette case from his vest pocket, and he turned it over in his fingers.
"Oh, indeed." Gretchen sighed deeply. "I suppose, with all modesty set aside, I was adequate on the instrument--but adequacy in a performer is hardly to be tolerated..." Before he could reply, she rushed onward, feeling her face flush. "I certainly do not practice with any regularity of late!"
Professor Bridwell laughed. "I daresay--at our time of life--leisure hours seem so unobtainable..." He looked at his cigarette case, polishing it with a thumb. Seeming to think better of smoking just then, however, he returned the case to his vest pocket.
Gretchen's smile was thin. She inclined her head, acknowledging the truth of what he said--they were indeed probably of an age. Certainly, she thought he could be no more than thirty-three or thereabouts. "Then, too, music, while an engaging diversion, and the source of much happiness, is better shared, wouldn't you say Professor?" He nodded slightly, and Gretchen clarified her statement. "That is to say--practicing is all very well, but...the joy of music is in sharing it with one's friends--musical soirees and evenings in the parlor with a roaring fire. Old friends gathered around the piano--and champagne!--"
Professor Bridwell warmed to her words, and rubbed his hands together as if before the very fire she had mentioned. "You have hit it precisely," he replied with enthusiasm. "Why--it's no wonder that living, as I do, alone in a house that I fear is far too large for..."
Gretchen thought she detected the professor falter just then, and there was the slightest of pauses in his speech.
"... For myself alone, you see," he finished. He laughed at himself, tossing the black mop of hair to one side. "But I needed some place instantly when I arrived here. I will probably find smaller digs in a year or so, when I've come to know the city more intimately."
"Indeed," Gretchen answered, returning his smile. "I quite understand how one needs permanent lodgings--the more quickly one can find them in a strange city, why, the quicker one is able to settle into life, get one's bearings in a foreign port."
"So true," he replied with a firm nod.
A few moments later, a juncture seemed to have been reached in their conversation. Their coffees were at an end, and neither of them had touched their cups for what seemed ages, so engaged had they become in their conversation.
"But now," Professor Bridwell exclaimed, with a glance to his pocket watch, "I should