At this command poor Margari had a veritable ague fit of terror. All
this time he had remained ducking down in the carriage firmly persuaded
that the robbers in this lonely place would cut down every mother's son
of them at nightfall. In such a case he was prepared to swear that he
had never belonged to the party at all, but would pretend he was only a
poor tramp, and so escape that way. And now the baron had ruined his
little plan by ordering him to come forth! The robbers would now
absolutely believe that he also was a swell. Oh, it is a frightful
situation when a poor devil has managed to get a 100 gulden into his
purse for the first time in his life and is obliged the very next
evening to put up at an inn full of robbers! What the devil did the
baron want with the fiddle at all? And then what sort of a thing _was_ a
fiddle? When a man is terrified he easily mistakes one thing for another
and Margari's first experiment was to carry in to the baron a long
leaden box containing the territorial chart of the Kengyelesy
estate--was that what his lordship wanted?

"Have you lost your wits, Margari? How could you possibly get a fiddle
into that? Or has the fellow never cast eyes on a fiddle? Bandi, you go
and look in the carriage for the fiddle!"

But this was not at all to Margari's liking. What, send that vagabond to
the carriage to ferret about there! His lordship must have clean taken
leave of his senses. Why, in the carriage was Margari's own brand-new
mantle, for which he had paid nine and twenty gulden. The vagabond would
be sure to lay his hands upon it. No, he would rather go to look for the
fiddle himself. So he found the violin case at last somehow, and handing
it to the baron through the _csarda_ window (for he durst not trust
himself inside), he retired again beneath the coach-house, although the
rain was now splashing down upon it.

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, on