Each night, when they were at home, he disappeared into the room, opening the door only enough to let his body pass through; sometimes he remained there for only a few minutes, and occasionally for a long time.

At least once a day, usually in the evening, he played the violin.

It was always the same piece that he played.

There was never a variation, and David could not make up his mind that he had ever heard it before.

At these times, if Mukoki happened to be in the Chateau, as Father Roland called his place, he would sit like one in a trance, scarcely breathing until the music had ceased.