whose silvery tone recalled a boudoir not
unknown to me, laid his violin on the window-sill and made off like a
swallow who rejoins his companion by a rapid level swoop. The great
monkey, whose chain was sufficiently long, approached the window and
gravely took in hand the violin. I don't know whether you have ever
had as I have the pleasure of seeing a monkey try to learn music, but
at the present moment, when I laugh much less than I did in those
careless days, I never think of that monkey without a smile; the
semi-man began by grasping the instrument with his fist and by
sniffing
at it as if he were tasting the flavor of an apple. The snort from his
nostrils probably produced a dull harmonious sound in the sonorous
wood and then the orang-outang shook his head, turned over the violin,
turned it back again, raised it up in the air, lowered it, held it
straight out, shook it, put it to his ear, set it down, and picked it
up again with a rapidity of movement peculiar to these agile
creatures. He seemed to question the dumb wood with faltering sagacity
and in his gestures there was something marvelous as well as
infantile. At last he undertook with grotesque gestures to place the
violin under his chin, while in one hand he held the neck; but like a
spoiled child he soon wearied of a study which required skill not to
be obtained in a moment and he twitched the strings without being able
to draw forth anything but discordant sounds. He seemed annoyed, laid
the violin on the window-sill and snatching up the bow he began to
push it to and fro with violence, like a mason sawing a block of
stone. This effort only succeeded in wearying his fastidious ears, and
he took the bow with both hands and snapped it in two on the innocent
instrument, source of harmony and delight. It seemed as if I saw
before me a schoolboy holding under him a companion lying face
downwards, while he pommeled him with a shower of blows from his fist,
as if to punish him for some delinquency. The violin being now tried
and condemned, the monkey sat down upon the fragments of it and amused
himself with stupid joy in mixing up the yellow strings of the broken
bow.

Never since that day have I been able to look upon the home of the
predestined without comparing the majority of husbands to this
orang-outang trying to play the violin.

Love is the most melodious of all harmonies and the sentiment of love
is innate. Woman is a delightful instrument of pleas