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Orpheus in Mayfair , livre ebook

The Floating Press - Maurice Baring

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197 pages

English

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British literary jack-of-all-trades Maurice Baring first rose to prominence as a writer of travelogues, which he later parlayed into a career as an intrepid war correspondent. When he shifted his focus to fiction, his prose retained the local color and rich detail that characterized his earlier nonfiction work. The tales collected in Orpheus in Mayfair and Other Stories and Sketches represent a broad cross-section of Baring's oeuvre.

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juin 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776538140
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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ORPHEUS IN MAYFAIR

AND OTHER STORIES AND SKETCHES

* * *

MAURICE BARING

Orpheus in Mayfair And Other Stories and Sketches First published in 1909 PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-814-0 Also available: Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-813-3 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved.

While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.

Visit www.thefloatingpress.com

Con

Note Orpheus in Mayfair The Cricket Match an Incident at a Private School The Shadow of a Midnight a Ghost Story Jean Francois The Flute of Chang Liang "What is Truth?" A Luncheon-Party Fete Galante The Garland The Spider's Web Edward II. at Berkeley Castle by an Eye-Witness (with Apologies to Mr. H. Belloc) The Island The Man Who Gave Good Advice Russalka The Old Woman Dr. Faust's Last Day The Flute-Player's Story A Chinaman on Oxford Venus The Fire The Conqueror The Ikon The Thief The Star

Chun Wa Endnotes

TO ETHEL SMYTH

Not

Most of the stories and sketches in this book have appeared in theMorning Post. One of them was published in theWestminster Gazette. I have to thank the editors and proprietors concerned for their kindness in allowing me to republish them.

Orpheus in Mayfair

Heraclius Themistocles Margaritis was a professional musician. He was a singer and a composer of songs; he wrote poetry in Romaic, and composed tunes to suit rhymes. But it was not thus that he earned his daily bread, and he was poor, very poor. To earn his livelihood he gave lessons, music lessons during the day, and in the evening lessons in Greek, ancient and modern, to such people (and these were rare) who wished to learn these languages. He was a young man, only twenty-four, and he had married, before he came of age, an Italian girl called Tina. They had come to England in order to make their fortune. They lived in apartments in the Hereford Road, Bayswater.

They had two children, a little girl and a little boy; they were very much in love with each other, as happy as birds, and as poor as church mice. For Heraclius Themistocles got but few pupils, and although he had sung in public at one or two concerts, and had not been received unfavourably, he failed to obtain engagements to sing in private houses, which was his ambition. He hoped by this means to become well known, and then to be able to give recitals of his own where he would reveal to the world those tunes in which he knew the spirit of Hellas breathed. The whole desire of his life was to bring back and to give to the world the forgotten but undying Song of Greece. In spite of this, the modest advertisement which was to be found at concert agencies announcing that Mr. Heraclius Themistocles Margaritis was willing to attend evening parties and to give an exhibition of Greek music, ancient and modern, had as yet met with no response. After he had been a

year in England the only steps towards making a fortune were two public performances at charity matinees, one or two pupils in pianoforte playing, and an occasional but rare engagement for stray pupils at a school of modern languages.

It was in the middle of the second summer after his arrival that an incident occurred which proved to be the turning point of his career. A London hostess was giving a party in honour of a foreign Personage. It had been intimated that some kind of music would be expected. The hostess had neither the means nor the desire to secure for her entertainment stars of the first magnitude, but she gathered together some lesser lights—a violinist, a pianist, and a singer of French drawing-room melodies. On the morning of the day on which her concert was to be given, the hostess received a telegram from the singer of French drawing-room melodies to say that she had got a bad cold, and could not possibly sing that night. The hostess was in despair, but a musical friend of hers came to the rescue, and promised to obtain for her an excellent substitute, a man who sang Greek songs.

When Margaritis received the telegram from Arkwright's Agency that he was to sing that night at A— House, he was overjoyed, and could scarcely believe his eyes. He at once communicated the news to Tina, and they spent hours in discussing what songs he should sing, who the good fairy could have been who recommended him, and in building castles in the air with regard to the result of this engagement. He would become famous; they would have enough money to go to Italy for a holiday; he would give concerts; he would reveal to the modern world the music of Hellas.

About half-past four in the afternoon Margaritis went out to buy himself some respectable evening studs from a large emporium in

the neighbourhood. When he returned, singing and whistling on the stairs for joy, he was met by Tina, who to his astonishment was quite pale, and he saw at a glance that something had happened.

"They've put me off!" he said. "Or it was a mistake. I knew it was too good to be true."

"It's not that," said Tina, "it's Carlo!" Carlo was their little boy, who was nearly four years old.

"What?" said Margaritis.

Tina dragged him into their little sitting-room. "He is ill," she said, "very ill, and I don't know what's the matter with him."

Margaritis turned pale. "Let me see him," he said. "We must get a doctor."

"The doctor is coming: I went for him at once," she said. And then they walked on tiptoe into the bedroom where Carlo was lying in his cot, tossing about, and evidently in a raging fever. Half an hour later the doctor came. Margaritis and Tina waited, silent and trembling with anxiety, while he examined the child. At last he came from the bedroom with a grave face. He said that the child was very seriously ill, but that if he got through the night he would very probably recover.

"I must send a telegram," said Margaritis to Tina. "I cannot possibly go." Tina squeezed his hand, and then with a brave smile she went back to the sick-room.

Margaritis took a telegraph form out of a shabby leather portfolio, sat down before the dining-table on which the cloth had been laid for tea (for the sitting-room was the dining-room also), and wrote

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