Camilla: A Tale of a Violin

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C.J. Barnard. Camilla: A Tale of a Violin

PREFATORY NOTE

PART I

CHAPTER I. BEFORE DAWN

CHAPTER II. SUNRISE

CHAPTER III. THE DAY BEGINS

CHAPTER IV. THE WOLF GROWLS

CHAPTER V. A GOOD FIGHT

CHAPTER VI. THE ROSE OF MONTHOLON

CHAPTER VII “CAMILLA URSO HAS ARRIVED.”

PART II

CHAPTER I. INTO EACH LIFE SOME RAIN MUST FALL

CHAPTER II. THE SILVER BRICK

CHAPTER III. THE GOSPEL OF WORK

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About thirty miles from the sea, on the River Loire, in France, stands the quaint, sleepy old town of Nantes. The Erdre and the Sevre, two smaller streams unite with the Loire just here and the town is spread out in an irregular fashion over the islands, the little capes between the rivers, and the hills that stand round about. The old part of the town is on the hill-side and occupies the two islands called Freydean and Gloriette, the more modern city has spread over the surrounding country among the groves of chestnut, and the vineyards that fill every available spot where the grapes can get a good look at the sun all through the long sunny days.

The river runs swift and bright through the town and flashes under the handsome bridges with their long rows of stone arches. In the river are boats, ships, and steamers, for the good people there spend much of their time in commerce and in catching and curing the silver-white pilchards that swim in such great schools in the neighboring sea.

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Slowly and patiently she crept along. By day and by night the beloved violin was ever near her. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes late at night, when ever her teacher could find the time, she listened to his instructions and played over the endless exercises. Seven hours practice every day. Three lessons a week; nothing allowed to interfere. Sleep, eat, a little exercise in the open air, practice and lessons, lessons and practice. Such was her young artist life.

The lessons gradually increased in variety and difficulty. Scales in every key, running passages of every imaginable character; and with it all not a single piece, song, or pretty melody of any kind. Ten months of finger exercises; nearly a year of dry scales.

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