danceable waltz.
Accompaniment and melody vibrated in harmony on the zither, which normally was limited to the production of a mere two simultaneous sounds.
To give some depth to the main theme, the worm raised itself a bit higher, thereby releasing a larger quantity of liquid onto the violently impacted strings.
The slightly hesitant rhythm discretely lent the whole the unique character typical of gypsy ensembles.
After the waltz, a panoply of dances gradually emptied the see-through trough.
Below, the vessel had refilled owing to the continuous flow that had now run dry. Skariovszki lifted it and for a second time decanted its contents into the lightweight receptacle before returning it to its proper place on the ground.
The worm, now completely resupplied, began playing a czardas punctuated by wild and abrupt shifts in tonality. Sometimes, huge tremors of its long reddish body produced clashing fortissimos; at others, imperceptible undulations, which let through only fine droplets, lowered the now tranquil zither to a bare murmur.
There was nothing mechanical about this performance, which radiated fire and conviction. The worm seemed to be like any virtuoso, who, following his spontaneous inspiration, ran through a series of variations, interpreting an ambiguous and delicate passage in new and controversial ways.
A long medley of light opera arias following the czardas again depleted the provision of liquid. Once more Skariovszki performed the rapid decanting while announcing the final piece.
This time, the worm energetically attacked a captivating Hungarian rhapsody, each measure of which seemed to bristle with the most harrowing difficulties.
The acts of agility followed one another seamlessly, spangled with trills and chromatic scales.
Soon, through a series of enormous jerks, the worm accentuated a certain canto of ample texture, each written note of which must have been part of a thick cluster. This theme, which formed the base, was embroidered with numerous light motifs produced by slight twitches of the supple body.
The animal was becoming intoxicated with music. Far from exhibiting the slightest weariness, it grew more animated with every harmonic wave it unleashed so relentlessly.
Its emotion was communicated to the audience, which was strangely moved by the expressive timbre of certain hauntingly plaintive sounds and by the incredible speed of the endless clusters of demisemiquavers.
A frenetic presto brought the annelid’s enthusiastic delirium to a climax, and for several minutes it abandoned itself unreservedly to its chaotic gymnastics.
At the end, it prolonged the perfect cadence by a kind of expanding improvisation, reprising the final chords until the last of the percussive liquid had been entirely depleted.
Skariovszki extended his bare arm, around which the worm coiled itself anew after having scaled the mica slope.
The Negroes came to remove the various objects, including the earthenware vessel that was again as full as when it arrived.
Led by the Hungarian, they disappeared behind the Stock Exchange in single file.
IV
A T RAO’S COMMAND, the entire portion of the black crowd assembled to the right made an about-face and took several steps back to contemplate the Incomparables’ Theater before them.
Immediately, our group moved closer, the better to see Talou, who had just appeared onstage with Carmichael in tow; the young Marseillais’s ordinary brown suit clashed with the extravagant imperial toilette.
Using a falsetto voice, an imitation of a woman’s pitch that matched his dress and wig, Talou executed Dariccelli’s Aubade , a piece requiring the most hazardous feats of vocalization.
Carmichael, score in hand, prompted the melody and its French text measure for measure, while the emperor, his guide’s faithful echo, emitted numerous trills that, after several minutes of effort, ended on a pure and extremely high-pitched final note.
Once this romance was