ake
something of. He has availed himself assiduously of my lessons, and
will again, when I get back to Paris. That concerto of mine which you
are studying, Haak, he played not at all badly a short time since. But
he hasn't the hand, yet, to wield my bow. Giarnovichi shall never cross
my doorstep again. There's a stupid coxcomb for you! A fellow who has
the effrontery to turn up his nose at the grand Tartini--master of all
masters--and despises my lessons. What I should like to know is, what
that boy Rhode will turn out after he has had lessons from me? He
promises well, and I have an idea that he will master my bow.'

"The Baron turned to me, saying, 'He is about your age, little son, but
of a more serious, deep-thoughted nature. You appear to me--don't take
it ill if I say so--to be a little bit of a--well, I mean, you lack
purpose. However, no matter. Now you, dear Haak, I have great hopes of.
Since I have been teaching you you have become quite another man. Keep
up your unresting zeal and industry. Never waste a single hour. You
know that is what distresses me.'

"I was turned to stone with amazement and admiration at what I heard. I
could not wait the necessary time to ask the concert-meister if it was
all true---if the Baron was, really, the greatest violinist of the
day--if he, my master himself, did actually take lessons from him.

"'Undoubtedly,' Haak said, 'he had no hesitation in accepting the
profitable instruction which the Baron placed at his disposal; and he
told me that I should do well if I went, some morning, to him myself,
and asked him to let me have some lessons from him too.'

"To all the questions which I then put to him concerning the Baron and
his artistic talent, Haak would give me no direct reply, but kept on
telling me that I ought to do as he advised me, and I should then find
out all about it myself.

"The peculiar smile which passed over Haak's face as he said this did
not escape me. I did not understand the meaning of it, and it excited
my curiosity to the highest point.

"When I bashfully made my request to the Baron, assuring him that the
most unbounded zeal, the most glowing enthusiasm for my art inspired
me, he looked at me seriously and fixedly. But soon his face put on
an expression of the most benevolent kindliness. 'Little son! little
son!' he said, 'that you have betaken yourself to me--the only real
violin-player now living--proves that you possess the true artistic
spirit