Then the music rose into a high shrill call
and ended abruptly.
"What has happened?" asked the lady. "Has he forgotten the words?"
"I think the song is over," said the man. "That's one comfort at any
rate. I hate songs which I can't understand."
But their comments were stopped by the beginning of another song. The
second song was soft and very low, and seemed to be almost entirely on
one note. It was still shorter than the first one, and ended still more
abruptly.
"I don't believe he's a Greek at all," said the man. "His songs are just
like the noise of bagpipes."
"I daresay he's a Scotch," said the lady. "Scotchmen are very clever.
But I must say his songs are short."
An indignant "Hush!" from a musician with long hair who was sitting not
far off heralded the beginning of the third song. It began on a high
note, clear and loud, so that the audience was startled, and for a
moment or two there was not a whisper to be heard in the drawing-room.
Then it died away in a piteous wail like the scream of a sea-bird, and
the high insistent note came back once more, and this process seemed
to be repeated several times till the sad scream prevailed, and stopped
suddenly. A little desultory clapping was heard, but it was instantly
suppressed when the audience became aware that the song was not over.
"He's going on again," whispered the man.
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