DOI Artikel:
Makower, Stanley V.: Chopin Op. 47
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.38746#0257
By Stanley V. Makower 253
The host after standing under the gas lamp outside the front
door and fumbling for some time with a bunch of keys, selected
one and quickly slipped it into the lock. As he pushed, the door
fell back noiselessly, leaving the key in his hand. When the
others had trooped past him he shut the door behind him and they
were left in darkness. Only the ends of two cigars glowed—tiny
circles of fiery red—as the owners puffed at them.
“Two flights, nine steps each,” said the host, “then wait till I
get a match.”
They stumbled up until some one said, “Stop.”
The host opened the door and vanished into the room to find a
match.
A faint glimmer of green mist made luminous by the gas lamp
outside, indicated the position of a window, and over the landing,
where the party stood waiting for a light, floated a warmer air
loaded with the perfume of flowers which mingled with the heavy
smell of the cigars.
The host was some time finding the match-box.
“ Ah, here it is,” he said at last, advancing to the door with it
in his hand.
The unwieldy figure of the old man passed by him and sank
into a large armchair close to the fireplace, in which glowed a
small heap of dull red coal. His eyelids were half-closed—for the
wine and the fog had made him drowsy, so that he did not see the
others as they followed the host in procession across the room.
He felt several people brush past him, then he heard a confused
babble of voices ; that was all.
Lights glimmered, changing the colour that hung before his
eyelids, and he began to imagine that he was in the little room
of the Saxony, and that, if he were to open his eyes, he would see
the table strewn with its confusion of plates and glasses. And the
The Yellow Book—Vol. XI. q figure
The host after standing under the gas lamp outside the front
door and fumbling for some time with a bunch of keys, selected
one and quickly slipped it into the lock. As he pushed, the door
fell back noiselessly, leaving the key in his hand. When the
others had trooped past him he shut the door behind him and they
were left in darkness. Only the ends of two cigars glowed—tiny
circles of fiery red—as the owners puffed at them.
“Two flights, nine steps each,” said the host, “then wait till I
get a match.”
They stumbled up until some one said, “Stop.”
The host opened the door and vanished into the room to find a
match.
A faint glimmer of green mist made luminous by the gas lamp
outside, indicated the position of a window, and over the landing,
where the party stood waiting for a light, floated a warmer air
loaded with the perfume of flowers which mingled with the heavy
smell of the cigars.
The host was some time finding the match-box.
“ Ah, here it is,” he said at last, advancing to the door with it
in his hand.
The unwieldy figure of the old man passed by him and sank
into a large armchair close to the fireplace, in which glowed a
small heap of dull red coal. His eyelids were half-closed—for the
wine and the fog had made him drowsy, so that he did not see the
others as they followed the host in procession across the room.
He felt several people brush past him, then he heard a confused
babble of voices ; that was all.
Lights glimmered, changing the colour that hung before his
eyelids, and he began to imagine that he was in the little room
of the Saxony, and that, if he were to open his eyes, he would see
the table strewn with its confusion of plates and glasses. And the
The Yellow Book—Vol. XI. q figure