nto the hat, into the hat." I dropped the
coin into his hat, which was lying in front of him. The old man
immediately took it out and put it into his pocket, quite satisfied.
"That's what I call going home for once with a rich harvest," he said
chuckling.

"You just remind me of a circumstance," I said, "which excited my
curiosity before. It seems your earnings today have not been
particularly satisfactory, and yet you retire at the very moment when
the real harvest is beginning. The festival, as you no doubt know, lasts
the whole night, and you might easily earn more in this one night than
in an entire week ordinarily. How am I to account for this?"

"How are you to account for this?" replied the old man. "Pardon me, I do
not know who you are, but you must be a generous man and a lover of
music." With these words he took the silver coin out of his pocket once
more and pressed it between his hands, which he raised to his heart.

"I shall therefore tell you the reasons, although I have often been
ridiculed for them. In the first place, I have never been a
night-reveler, and I do not consider it right to incite others to such a
disgusting procedure by means of playing and singing. Secondly, a man
ought to establish for himself a certain order in all things, otherwise
he'll run wild and there's no stopping him. Thirdly, and finally, sir, I
play for the noisy throng all day long and scarcely earn a bare living.
But the evening belongs to me and to my poor art. In the evening I stay
at home, and"--at these words he lowered his voice, a blush overspread
his countenance and his eyes sought the ground--"then I play to myself
as fancy dictates, without notes. I believe the text-books on music call
it improvising."

We had both grown silent, he from confusion, because he had betrayed
the innermost secret of his heart, I from astonishment at hearing a man
speak of the highest spheres of art who was not capable of rendering
even the simplest waltz in intelligible fashion. Meanwhile he was
preparing to depart. "Where do you live?" I inquired. "I should like to
attend your solitary practising some day."

"Oh," he replied, almost imploringly, "you must know that prayers should
be said in private!"

"Then I'll visit you in the daytime," I said.

"In the daytime," he replied, "I earn my living among the people."

"Well, then, some morning early."

"It almost looks," the old man said smiling, "as though you, my dear
sir, were