Mirko, crouched up by the smoldering fire, was playing the _Chanson Triste_ on his violin when the two reached the studio.

He had a wonderful talent--of that there was no doubt--but his health had always been too delicate to stand any continuous study.

Nor had the means of the family ever been in a sufficiently prosperous condition, in later years, to procure a really good master.

But the touch and soul of the strange little fellow sounded in every wailing note.

He always played the _Chanson Triste_ when he was sad and lonely.