I don't blame him.
So we came over here and Paul started at work. I was fighting for him and
with him every moment. How he worked! Six months, like a coal heaver. Then
he finished and played it over. He tore it all up. Every note.
VERA
Why?
JEAN
He said it was written in an old-fashioned style. It was curious--in his
playing he appreciated the most advanced technic, but when be came to
compose he found himself imitating the things he had admired when he was
eighteen. It had to be worked out of his mind. Well, he did it all through
again. This time he said he was only about two years behind. Tore it up
again. But now he was convinced he could succeed. And he was magnificent!
I would have shared him with the world gladly, but I knew it was best for
him to do this work. The hours this room has seen! Well, he made a few
notes, stopped a few days to take breath, and then caught the cold that
wore him out. Over there, in that drawer, are the notes, a few scraps of
paper. The rest of it--the experience of a strong life, a visioning life,
are with the mind that is dumb.
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