and on his heart: "It is mine," he said in a
humble voice, "A thousand pardons, Barin! Impossible!"

"I will p-pay you for it!" said the gentleman angrily, "How much do you
w-want?"

Velasco smiled and put his hand to his heart again, shrugging his
shoulders.

"Not that it is of any p-particular value," continued Petrokoff, "but I
like the t-tone. I will give you--hm--s-sixty-five roubles!"

Velasco drew the bow softly over the strings; he was still smiling.

"Seventy! That is exorbitant for a g-gypsey's fiddle! You could buy
a d-dozen other instruments for that, just as good! Come--will you
t-take it?"

Velasco began to trill softly on the G string, and then swept over the
arch with an arpeggio pianissimo.

"You are like a J-Jew!" exclaimed the musician. "You want to bargain!
One hundred r-roubles then! There!" He turned to the landlord,
stretching out his fat hands, palms upwards. "Absurd isn't it? The
f-fellow must be mad!"

"Mad indeed," echoed the landlord, "A miserable, tattered bradjaga, who
can't even keep time. You heard yourself, Professor, how he changed
the beat and threw the dancers out, every moment or so. They are
nothing but tramps; but if you want a fiddle, Barin, old Dimitri, who
is sick in bed with the rheumatism in his legs, he will sell you his
for a quarter the price and be thankful. A nice little instrument,
fine and well polished, not old and yellow with the back worn!"

He twiddled his fingers in contempt.

Velasco ran lightly a scale over the strings. His hair fell over his
brows and he half closed his eyes, gazing at the musician through the
slits mockingly.

"Are you really the great Petrokoff?" he said, "The Professor of the
Violin known through all Russia! From Moscow? Even the gypsies have
heard of you!"

The Professor lifted his fingers to his lips and blew on them as if to
warm the ends, which were flat and stubbed from much playing on the
strings: "Humph!" he said, "You are only a boy! You are talented, it
is true; but what do you know of violinists? You ought to be studying."

"That is true, Barin," said Velasco humbly. "I am only a poor gypsey;
I know nothing!"

"Let me see your hand and your arm," said Petrokoff, "Yes, the shape is
excellent; the muscles are good. You need training of course. If you
come to the Conservatory at Moscow, I may be able to procure for you a
scholarship for one of my classes."

"Ah, Barin--your Excellence, how kind