The handbags

On May 12th 1936, after a number of years without performing, the pianist Catherine de Sélys felt such an urge to have an audience stirred by her side that she decided to go on a tour that would take her to the four corners of Europe. But she was so afraid of disappointing her loyal listeners, who in the past had been so enthusiastic, that on the first night, she was incapable of playing the slightest note. The silence of the audience seemed to be too much for her. She was so nervous her earrings began to tinkle; as soon as her - hopelessly powerless - hand was lifted in a tremble, her bracelets lightly clicked together; and as they writhed under her dress, with every movement her legs rustled the fabric. The spectators had never heard anything like it. How could a pianist produce sounds so filled with distress and loneliness without even using her instrument, merely through her graceful dress and jewellery?
When Catherine got up and came to the front of the stage to make a public apology for her failure, the audience burst into warm applause, leaving her no time to utter a word. Catherine was so touched by this token of their support that she at last plucked up enough courage to play.
Sadly, her performance was greeted with such stony silence that she could hear gentlemen's shoes grating with their disappointment and the scornful shutting of ladies' handbags.

In the spring of 1926, Oskar Serti was travelling the roads of Europe like a lost soul at the wheel of his brand new Bugatti when his car radio broadcast a recital by the pianist Catherine de Sélys. Serti had never heard anyone play with such intensity before; it was as if Catherine de Sélys were by his side, playing for him and no-one else.
Suddenly, his car passed under a bridge, and for a moment the music was drowned in crackling noise. But far from being put out, he took this crackling to mean that the microphones used for the radio broadcast had just fallen on Catherine's knees and that all that could now be heard was the rustling of her dress.
In this way, each time he passed under a bridge, Serti came a little closer to Catherine de Sélys; he enjoyed picturing her dress, the jewels she was wearing and which were filling his car with their delightful crackling noises.
As the recital was drawing to a close, Serti noticed a man waving in the distance whose vehicle - an old Renault - seemed to have broken down. But when he found the car had been parked right under the arch of a bridge and must have been there for some time already, Serti was filled with a feeling of uncontrollable jealousy and sped past the unfortunate motorist.