The Concert

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Title:     The Concert
Author: Anthon B. E. Nilsen [More Titles by Nilsen]

There was to be an evening concert at the Assembly Rooms. The local papers for the previous day had leading articles about "Hans Martinsen, the boy musician who has been studying in Christiania, and is now appearing for the first time in public in his native town. Critics from all quarters are unanimously agreed as to his remarkable talent, and already prophesy a brilliant future, though his powers, at this early stage, have naturally not yet attained their full development. It is to be hoped that the music-loving section of our community will be numerously represented, that the promising young artist may receive the support and encouragement he deserves."

The fine hall was splendidly illuminated. The great windows fronting the street shed a glow of light over the crowd of staring idlers outside.

Malla Trap crossed the road, making towards the entrance, but meeting a group of young girls who were admiring the illuminations, she stopped to speak to them.

"Well, children, going to the concert?"

"No--o," answered one or two regretfully, curtsying as they spoke. They knew Miss Trap as a sister at the poor school, which most of them had attended.

"Well, come along, and I'll get you in."

The girls followed delightedly, and Malla Trap took tickets for them all.

Across the bridge came Hans Martinsen, with his mother. On reaching the entrance he had to stop and look round, everyone was nodding and waving to him in kindly greeting.

"Good-day, Hans!" came in a fresh young voice behind him. He turned, and saw a girl smiling and nodding. "I'm coming in to hear you play." And she waved a big yellow ticket.

"Why, surely--is it you, Amanda? How are you getting on?"

"Splendid, thanks. This is Carljohan; he's just come back from a voyage."

"And your father and mother? Give them my love, won't you?"

"Thanks, I will. Oh, but Hans"--she came close to him and whispered--"Dear Hans, do play 'The Little Fisher-Maid' to please me--will you?"

"I'm not sure if I can, Amanda."

"Oh, of course you can. Why, you played it hundreds of times at old Clemmetsen's."

"Well, I'll see.... But I must go in now. Good-bye."

The great hall was filled to overflowing. All the musical element was present as a matter of course, and in addition a number of those who never went to concerts as a rule, as for instance the Mayor and Broker Vindt, who took seats at the back. Up in the gallery were a number of Hans' old schoolfellows, all greatly excited at the event.

Suddenly the buzz of talk was hushed, and all eyes were turned towards a group coming up the centre of the hall.

It was Banker Hermansen, still and solemn, with Mrs. Rantzau, fresh and smiling, at his side. Behind them walked William Holm and Miss Rantzau, evidently somewhat embarrassed by the general scrutiny.

Holm senior, who was also one of the party, lagged behind a little, stopping to exchange a word with the Mayor and his friend.

Mrs. Rantzau found her place in one of the upper rows, and stood looking down for Holm, beckoning with a smile when she caught his eye. She let her gaze wander over the assembly, and something like a murmur of applause went up. Mrs. Rantzau was undeniably a splendid woman, and was at her best that evening.

"Get along up to the front with you, old fossil," said Vindt, with a friendly nudge, and Holm walked up, nodding genially to acquaintances all round.

"Fine figure of a woman, what?" whispered the Mayor, glancing towards Mrs. Rantzau.

"H'm," said Vindt. "Handsome enough to look at, but a bit of a handful to look after, if you ask me. Like the cakes in a cookshop window--I like 'em, but they don't agree with me!"

* * * * *

There was silence in the hall as the first notes rang out. All were watching the young performer; a little anxiously perhaps, as if in fear lest he should break down. And all felt that in some degree the honour of the town was here at stake, for the boy was one of their own.

But the little figure at the piano sat calm and free from nervousness; he was in another world, where he felt himself at home. The watching eyes and listening ears did not trouble him; he seemed gazing inwardly at a starry sky far above them all.

The music swelled and sank, now wild and furious as the north-east wind raging over the rocky coast in autumn, then gentle as the evening breeze of a summer's day.

Eyes glistened now with fervour, hearts beat proudly. All present seemed to share in his happiness, to have some part in the triumph of his genius.

The applause was hearty and unanimous.

"Bravo, Hans!" came a deep voice from the gallery. All turned to see who had spoken. Ah, there--it was Bramsen, standing up with both hands outstretched and clapping thunderously.

Amanda flushed with embarrassment, and nudged her father to make him stop. But he snapped out impatiently, "You leave me alone!" and went on clapping.

Among the numerous extras was a "Ballad theme with variations," which the more exacting critics considered somewhat out of place. One there was, however, who thought otherwise, and that was Amanda. The soft, swaying rhythm of "The Little Fisher-Maid" filled her with delight, and she clapped as enthusiastically as her father had done.

* * * * *

"Father, I think I've learned something from that concert this evening," said William, as they walked home.

"Well, my boy, and what was that?"

"Why, that genius is like pure gold; if Nature hasn't put it there it's no use trying to make it."

"You're right, my son. And sensible people don't try. It's no good setting up to do the work of your Creator. What do you say, Banker?"

"Eh, what's that?" Hermansen was walking arm in arm with Mrs. Rantzau, and the pair of them were evidently oblivious of all but each other.

"I say, the best thing we can do in this life's to live like sensible people."

"Errors and omissions excepted," answered the banker, and he pressed his fiancée's hand long and tenderly.

[The end]
Anthon B. E. Nilsen's short story: Concert

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