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The hall shimmered with light, each lamp radiating a warm glow against the white muslin curtains billowing in the Gulf breeze. Orange and lemon branches adorned the room, their dark green contrasting beautifully with the curtains.
It was a lively Saturday night, a few weeks after Taylor and Madame Rogers’s conversation at the beach. Families and friends had gathered for the weekend, enjoying the company and hospitality of Madame Williams. The dining tables had been pushed aside, chairs arranged in clusters, creating an atmosphere of relaxation and camaraderie.
Children, allowed to stay up late, giggled as they flipped through colorful comic papers brought by Mr. McPherson. The McPherson boys, asserting their authority, supervised the younger ones.
Entertainment unfolded spontaneously—music, dancing, and impromptu recitations. The Farival twins, dressed in blue and white as a tribute to the Blessed Virgin, played the piano. Their rendition of pieces like “Zampa” and “The Poet and the Peasant” captivated the audience, except for the parrot outside the door, who squawked disapproval.
Later, a brother and sister performed familiar recitations, evoking nostalgia for winter evenings in the city. A young girl mesmerized the crowd with a skirt dance, her mother accompanying on the piano. The girl, adorned in black tulle and silk tights, moved with grace and confidence, her agile movements captivating everyone in the room.
The hall glowed with the warm light of numerous lamps, casting a cozy ambiance over the evening. Orange and lemon branches adorned the room, their dark green contrasting beautifully against the white muslin curtains swaying in the breeze from the Gulf.
It was a lively Saturday night, a few weeks after Taylor and Madame Rogers had their intimate chat by the beach. Families and friends had gathered for the weekend, and Madame Williams was ensuring everyone was entertained. The dining tables had been cleared for dancing, chairs arranged in clusters, setting the stage for a relaxed and convivial atmosphere.
Children, allowed to stay up later than usual, were scattered around, absorbed in colorful comic sheets brought by Mr. McPherson. The little McPherson boys, exercising their newfound authority, were overseeing this impromptu comic session.
Music filled the air as Madame Rogers, unable to dance, played the piano with skill and enthusiasm. She believed music added warmth to their home, a sentiment shared by her husband. Almost everyone danced, except the Farival twins, who staunchly refused to be separated during the dance.
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As the evening progressed, children were reluctantly sent off to bed, some protesting with dramatic flair as they departed after the ice cream treat, which marked the pinnacle of indulgence.
Victor, taking pride in his ice cream creation, encouraged excessive sampling. Meanwhile, Mrs. McPherson, after a few dances, retired to the gallery, enjoying the moonlit view of the Gulf.
Taylor, noticing Evelyn’s interest in Mademoiselle Reisz’s musical talents, rushed to fetch the pianist. Despite Mademoiselle Reisz’s stern demeanor, she agreed to play, entering the hall with an air of authority tinged with a touch of awkwardness. Her attire, a curious mix of lace and violets, stood out against the elegant backdrop of the evening.
Mademoiselle Reisz, pausing before the piano, turned to Taylor and asked, “What would Mrs. McPherson like to hear me play?” Her request added an air of anticipation and excitement, as the guests eagerly awaited the pianist’s performance.
Evelyn considered herself deeply enamored of music. Well-played melodies had a magical ability to conjure vivid images in her mind. Often, she enjoyed sitting in the room when Madame Rogers practiced or played. One particular piece, which Madame Rogers titled differently but Evelyn called “Solitude,” had a haunting quality. It painted a mental picture of a man standing beside a rugged rock on a lonely seashore, his naked form a symbol of forlorn resignation as he watched a distant bird soar away.
Another melody evoked the image of a graceful young lady in an Empire gown, taking delicate steps down a tree-lined avenue. Yet another brought to mind playful children, while a different tune conjured nothing but the serene image of a lady petting a cat.
The initial chords struck by Mademoiselle Reisz sent a shiver down Mrs. McPherson’s spine. Although she had heard skilled pianists before, this moment felt different. Perhaps it was the first time she was truly receptive, open to absorb the profound truth of the music.
Expecting vivid scenes to materialize in her mind, Evelyn instead found herself consumed by intense emotions—longing, passion, and despair swirled within her like tumultuous waves crashing against a sturdy vessel. She trembled, choked up, tears streaming down her cheeks, her soul stirred to its depths.
As Mademoiselle Reisz concluded her performance and left without waiting for acknowledgment, she casually patted Evelyn’s shoulder, asking, “How did you find my music?” Overwhelmed, Evelyn could only squeeze the pianist’s hand tightly, her emotional response speaking volumes.
Observing Evelyn’s intense reaction, Mademoiselle Reisz reassured her, “You are the one worth playing for. The others? Bah!” With that, she shuffled away towards her room, oblivious to the fervor her music had stirred among the guests.
Despite Mademoiselle Reisz’s misjudgment, her music had ignited a passionate fervor among the listeners. Praises and exclamations filled the air: “Such passion!” “An unparalleled artist!” “No one can interpret Chopin like Mademoiselle Reisz!” The enthusiasm lingered even as the night grew late, prompting someone, perhaps Taylor, to suggest a midnight bath under the enchanting moon’s glow.