After long residence in the north, I arrived here at half-past eight in the evening.
“What is there at the theatre to-night?” said I to the butler.
“Nothing of consequence. But you should go to the concert, mein Herr. A violin player—”
“I have had enough of violin players.”
“But this one is a wonder. The critic, Rellstab, writes his pen to the stump in praises of him. Look here, in the paper.”
“Very well. What is the name of the wonderful performer so praised by the critic?”
“His name? I will tell you in a moment. It has just escaped me. An Italian—”
“An Italian?”
“Yes. It begins with a P.”
“A P? I must go instantly to the concert. Where will I find a ticket?”