Baron Leonard took from its morocco case his splendid Straduarius, that
relic of the greatest master of fiddle-making, for which he had paid a
small fortune, and following the lead of the young vagabond's _tilinka_
played the bitter-sweet melancholy air on the sonorous instrument, and
at the third trial he enriched it with so many variations as to astonish
everyone. Then Ripa became enthusiastic and chimed in with his hoarse
old voice.
When the baron once had the violin in his hands, he was not content with
playing a single song, one melody enticed another forth, and so, one
after another, his fiddle-bow ran through all those rhapsodies of the
last century, those compositions of the "Gipsy-Beethoven," Bihari, and
other great popular masters, with the most classical variations. Princes
listen not to such a concert as now resounded through that wretched,
desolate _csarda_. Even Henrietta arose from her couch the better to
enjoy these melancholy airs. If ever in her life, it was at this moment
that she beheld her husband in an aureole of dazzling light which
irresistibly attracted, overpowered, subdued.
One thing, however, struck her as strange, incredible--how could a
fashionable man brought up in the atmosphere of elegant saloons, find
any pleasure in playing _bravoura_ pieces in the tap room of a miserable
_csarda_ to an audience of half-tipsy vagabonds? Was this an habitual
diversion of these wealthy magnates, or was it only Hatszegi's bizarre
humour?
However, when "the lads" began to chime in a little too vigourously,
Hatszegi restored the violin to its case, took out his pocket-book,
opened it before them all and nonchalantly displayed as he did so the
bundles of thousand-gulden notes which it contained.
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