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mercredi, décembre 21, 2016

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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he 15pq


swung his head and bo15pq began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. o15pq He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms



with slight, intense movements, as 5pq the delicate music 5pq poured out. It l9d3bo1pq 9d3bo15q was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid





and delicate. 15pq The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 3bo15pq bo15pq of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,


exasperatedto the point of intolerable 5pq anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,


in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent 9d3bo15q appeared 3bo15pq in the room. She fidgetted at the



sink. The music was 15pq a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.





She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are l9d3bo1pq 5pq you going out?” She twisted nervously.



“What do you want to know for?” He made 5pq no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet â€" then 5pq over it again â€" then 15pq more closely over it 15pq again.





“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were o15pq angry under knitted brows. “What are l9d3bo1pq 15pq you bothering about?” he 9d3bo15q said.



“I’m not bothering â€" I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 3bo15pq expect I am,” he said quietly.


She recovered at o15pq once, but still 9d3bo15q with 15pq timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 15pq candles for the Christmas tree â€" shall you buy some, because mother




isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling l9d3bo1pq his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes â€" shall you buy o15pq us l9d3bo1pq l9d3bo1pq some, Father? Shall 5pq you?”




“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo o15pq to his mouth and blowing a few l9d3bo1pq piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles o15pq â€" blue 5pq ones and red




ones, in boxes â€" Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see â€" if I see any â€"” “But SHALL bo15pq you?” she insisted 15pq desperately. She 15pq wisely mistrusted his vagueness.



But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, bo15pq shrill, brilliant. He 3bo15pq was playing Mozart. The child’s


face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 15pq out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 9d3bo15q seemed to



possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 15pq went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 3bo15pq In the frosty evening the 3bo15pq sound carried.



people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and l9d3bo1pq .








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