Behind him walked Theodore.
There was a little, impersonal burst of applause. Stock
mounted his conductor's platform and glanced paternally
down at Theodore, who stood at the left, violin and bow in
hand, bowing. The audience seemed to warm to his
boyishness. They applauded again, and he bowed in a little
series of jerky bobs that waggled his coat-tails. Heels
close together, knees close together. A German bow. And
then a polite series of bobs addressed to Stock and his
orchestra. Stock's long, slim hands poised in air. His
fingertips seemed to draw from the men before him the first
poignant strains of Theodore's concerto. Theodore stood,
slim and straight. Fanny's face, lifted toward him, was a
prayerful thing. Theodore suddenly jerked back the left
lapel of his coat in a little movement Fanny remembered as
typical in his boyish days, nuzzled his violin tenderly, and
began to play.
It is the most excruciating of instruments, the violin, or
the most exquisite. I think Fanny actually heard very
little of his playing.
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