_To Mrs. William Murray_
BALAK, _January 31_.
MY DEAR MAMMA,--Certainly I got your last letter. I have not
forgotten you at all, and the draft came all right. Bella Seymour
exaggerates so. Herr Klug kisses all his pupils in the class, but just
as Grandpa Murray would. He's old enough to be our grandfather; besides,
as Mrs. Ransom says, it is not for our beauty, but when we play well,
that he rewards us. I'm sure I don't like it, and if Mrs. Klug, or his
six or seven cousins who live with him, caught him they would make a
lively time. I never saw such a jealous set of relatives in my life. How
am I improving? Oh, splendid; just splendid. I do wish you wouldn't coax
and worm out of Bella Seymour all I write. You know girls exaggerate so.
Good-by, darling mamma. Give my love to pa and Harry. I'll write soon.
Yes, I need one new morning frock. I owe for one at a store here where
the Ransoms go. Lizzie Ransom is the nicest, but I play better than she
does.
Your affectionate daughter,
IRENE.
_To Miss Bella Seymour_
BALAK, _March 2_.
YOU MEAN OLD THING,--I got your letter, Bella, but I don't
understand yet how you came to tell mamma the nonsense I wrote. Such a
lot of things have happened since I wrote last fall. I haven't improved
a bit. I have no talent, old man Kluggy says--he's such a soft old
fool. He can't play a bit, but he's always talking about his method,
his virtuosity, his wonderful memory and his marvellous touch. He must
have played well when he was painted with Beethoven in the same picture.
Yes, he knew Beethoven. He's as old as old what's-his-name who ate grass
and died of a colic, in the Bible. Golly, wouldn't I like to get out of
this hole, but I promised pa I'd stick it out until spring. I play
nothing but Klug compositions, his valses, mazurkas--mind _his_ nerve,
he says he gave Chopin points on mazurkas; and Bella, Bella, what do you
think, I've found out all about his cousins! I wrote ma that all the old
hens in his house were his cousins, and I spoke of his wife. Bella, _he
has no wife_, he has _no cousins_. What do you think? I'll tell you how
I found it out. The Ransom girls know, but they don't let on to their
mother. The first lesson I took, Klug--I hate that man--motioned me to
wait until the other girls had gone. He pretended to fool and fuss over
some autographs of Bach and a lot of other old idiots--I hate Bach, too,
nasty dry stuff--and I knew what he was up to. He glared at me through
his spectacles for a while and then mumbled out:
"You may kiss me before you go." Not much, I thought, and told him so.
He rang a bell. The servant came. "Send my wife down. Schnell, du." She
hesitated and he yelled out, "Dummkopf" and then turned to me and
smiled. The old monkey had forgotten that he had introduced me to Frau
Klug two days before. In a minute I heard the swish of a silk dress and
a fine-looking old lady entered. I was introduced to--what do you think?
Frau Klug, please. I nearly fell over, for I remembered well the
frightened-looking German girl--a pretty girl, too, only dressed
_rotten_. Well, I got out the best I could--I couldn't talk German or
Balakian--a hideous language, full of coughing and barking sounds--so I
bowed and got out. Now comes the funny part of it, Bella. Every time the
old fool tries to kiss me I ask him to introduce me to his wife, and he
invariably answers: "What, you have not met my wife?" and rings for the
ugly servant who stands grinning until I really expect her to say "Which
one?" but she never does. I've counted seventeen so far, all sizes, ages
and complexions.
The class says they are old pupils who couldn't pay their bills, so
Kluggy got a mortgage on them, and they have to stay with him until they
work the mortgage off by sewing, washing, cooking and teaching
beginners. I've not seen them all yet, and Anne Sypher, from Cleveland,
swears that there is a dungeon in the house full of girls from the
eighteenth century who hadn't money enough to pay for their lessons. I'm
sure ugly Babette, the servant, is an old pupil, for one day I sneaked
into the dining-room and heard her playing the Bella Capricciosa, by
Hummel, on an upright piano that was almost falling apart. Heavens! how
she started when she saw me! The old lady he introduced me to the second
time was a pupil of Steibelt's, and she played the "Storm" for us in
class when the professor was sick. She must have been good-looking. Her
fingers were quite lively. Honest, it is the joke of Balak, and we girls
have grown so sensitive on the subject that we never walk out in a
crowd, for the young men at the corners call out, "Hello, there goes the
new crop for 1902." It is very embarrassing.
Bella, I want to tell you something. Swear that you will never tell my
father or mother. I don't give a rap for music; I hate it, but I like
the young men here in Balak, no, not the citizens. They are slow, but
the soldiers, the regiment attached to the Royal Household. I've met a
Lieutenant Fustics--oh, he's lovely, belongs to the oldest family in
Serbia, is young, handsome and so fine in his uniform. He is crazy over
music and America, and says he will never bear to be separated from me.
Of course he's in love and of course he's foolish, for I'm too young to
marry--fancy, not eighteen yet, or, is it nineteen?--this place makes me
forget my name--besides, pa wouldn't hear of such a thing. Herr
Lieutenant Fustics asked my father's business, and told me all Americans
were millionaires, and I just laughed in his face. I play for him in
the salon--oh, no, not in my room--that would be a crime in this
tight-laced old town. Now, Bella, _don't_ tell mamma this time. Why
don't you write oftener? Love to all.
Your devoted IRENE.
P.S.--Bella, he's lovely.
_To William Murray, Esq._
BALAK, _May 12_.
DEAR PA,--Yes, I need $500, and Herr Klug says if I stay a year
more I can play in public when I go back. Five hundred dollars will be
enough _now_.
Your loving daughter, IRENE.
_To Miss Bella Seymour_
BALAK, _May 25_.
DEAR, SWEET BELLA,--I'm gone; Hector, that's his name, proposed
to me--and proposed a secret marriage--he says that I can study quietly,
inspired by his love, for a year, for his regiment will stay in Balak
for another year. Oh, Bella, I'm so happy. How I wish you could see him.
I simply don't go near the piano. Old Klug is cross with me and I'm
sure the Ransoms are jealous. Good-by, Bella, don't tell mamma.
Remember I trust you.
Your crazy IRENE.
P. S.--I'm wild to get married!
_To Frau Wilhelm Murray_
BALAK, _June 25_.
HIGH RESPECTED AND HONORABLE MADAME,--I've not seen your
daughter, the Fräulein Irene Murray, since April, although she has been
in Balak. I fear she has more talent for a military career than as a
pianist. She does owe me for two lessons. Please send me the amount--40
marks. Send it care of Frau Klug--Frau Emma Klug. With good weather,