Violists | Page 7

quite chilly this evening," he said, stepping down once. They
started down the stairs beside each other. "Would you fancy a cup of
coffee, by chance, before making your way home?"
Gretchen smiled. He certainly had a forward manner; but she found it
refreshing, and--after all, she had really been seeking him, had she not?
"Why, that sounds like a delightful diversion, Professor. I believe I
shall."
With that, they set off together across the plaza. Gretchen started
immediately upon a likely topic of conversation: the concert they had
just attended. It was instantly evident that Professor Bridwell had found
the Liszt etudes as breathtaking as she had. And during the Vivaldi, as
well, he agreed that 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