He produced from a case a bottle of wine and two silver cups, and placed them on the table.
"But where is your friend, the violinist ?" inquired Nino, who was beginning to be impatient; for except that the place was dusty and old, there was nothing about it sufficiently interesting to take his thoughts from the subject nearest his heart.
"I will introduce him to you," said the other, going to one of the valises and taking out a violin case, which he laid on the table and proceeded to open.

The instrument was apparently of great age, small and well shaped.

The stranger took it up and began to tune it.
"Do you mean to say that you are yourself the violinist ?" he asked, in astonishment.

But the stranger vouchsafed no answer, as he steadied the fiddle with his bearded chin and turned the pegs with his left hand, adjusting the strings.
Then, suddenly and without any preluding, he began to make music, and from the first note Nino sat enthralled and fascinated, losing himself in the wild sport of the tones.

The old man's face became ashy white as he played, and his white hair appeared to stand away from his head.
The long, thin fingers of his left hand chased each other in pairs and singly along the delicate strings, while the bow glanced in the lamplight as it dashed like lightning across the instrument, or remained almost stationary, quivering in his magic hold as quickly as the wings of the humming-bird strike the summer air.