can you help me?"

"Very easily. You have been wasting time, energy and health in a wild
desire to play better. The trouble lies not with you."

"Not with me?" interrupted the violinist, now thoroughly interested.

"The trouble lies not with you," repeated the visitor, "but with the
miserable violin you have been using and have just destroyed," and he
pointed to the shattered instrument.

Tears welled from the poor violinist's eyes as he gazed on the
fragments of his beloved violin, the pieces lying scattered about as
the result of his unfortunate anger.

"It was a Stradivarius," said Diotti, sadly.

"Had it been a Stradivarius, an Amati or a Guarnerius, or a host of
others rolled into one, you would not have found in it the melody to
win the heart of the woman you love. Get a better and more suitable
instrument."

"Where is one?" earnestly interrogated Diotti, vaguely realizing that
Satan knew.

"In my possession," Satan replied.

"She would hate me if she knew I had recourse to the powers of darkness
to gain her love," bitterly interposed Diotti.

Satan, wincing at this uncomplimentary allusion to himself, replied
rather warmly: "My dear sir, were it not for the fact that I feel in
particularly good spirits this morning, I should resent your ill-timed
remarks and leave you to end your miserable existence with rope or
pistol," and Satan pantomimed both suicidal contingencies.

"Do you want the violin or not?"

"I might look at it," said Diotti, resolving mentally that he could go
so far without harm.

"Very well," said Satan. He gave a long whistle.

An old man, bearing a violin case, came within the room. He bowed to
the wondering Diotti, and proceeded to open the case. Taking the
instrument out the old man fondled it with loving and tender
solicitude, pointing out its many beauties--the exquisite blending of
the curves, the evenness of the grain, the peculiar coloring, the
lovely contour of the neck, the graceful outlines of the body, the
scroll, rivaling the creations of the ancient sculptors, the solidity
of the bridge and its elegantly carved heart, and, waxing exceedingly
enthusiastic, holding up the instrument and looking at it as one does
at a cluster of gems, he added, "the adjustment of the strings."

"That will do," interrupted Satan, taking the violin from the little
man, who bowed low and ceremoniously took his departure. Then the
devil, pointing to the instrument, asked: "Isn't it a be