Into this, the quivering sigh of Edouard's violin
penetrated like a sunbeam feeling its way into a darkened room, and,
at the sound, the voices, one by one, detached themselves from the
general chorus, until, lacking support, it ceased altogether. Some
were silent, that they might hear the better, others, who preferred
their own talk, were silent out of regard for those who desired to
listen, and a waiter who was so indiscreet as to clatter a tray of
glasses was hushed on the instant. The tribute of attention lent to
Edouard an added power; his head lifted on his shoulders with pride;
his bow cut deeper and firmer, and with more delicate shading; the
notes rose in thrilling, plaintive sadness, and flooded the hot air
with melody.
Edouard made his way to within a short distance of the table at which
Miss Warriner was seated, and halted there as though he had found his
audience. He did not look at her, although she sat directly facing
him, but it was evident to all that she was the one to whom his
effort was directed, and Corbin, who was seated with his back to
Edouard, recognized this and turned in his chair.
The body of the young musician was trembling with the feeling which
found its outlet through the violin.
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