“Encore!” said he, with a kind sneer: “who ever could sing or play the same thing twice! Are you fond of music, sir?”
“Very much so, indeed. I fancied I recognised that air. You are an admirer I imagine, of Mozart?”
“I never heard of him; I know nothing of those gentry. But if you really like music, I will play you something worth listening to.”
Mr. Beckendorff began a beautiful air very adagio, gradually increasing the time in a kind of variation, till at last his execution became so rapid that Vivian, surprised at the mere mechanical action, rose from his chair in order better to examine the player’s management and motion of his bow. Exquisite as were the tones, enchanting as were the originality of his variations and the perfect harmony of his composition, it was nevertheless extremely difficult to resist smiling at the contortions of his face and figure. Now, his body bending to the strain, he was at one moment with his violin raised in the air, and the next instant with the lower nut almost resting upon his foot. At length, by well-proportioned degrees, the air died away into the original soft cadence; and the player, becoming completely entranced in his own performance, finished by sinking back on the sofa, with his bow and violin raised over his head. Vivian would not disturb him by his applause. An instant after, Mr. Beckendorff, throwing down the instrument, rushed through an open window into the garden.
As soon as Beckendorff was out of sight, Vivian looked at the Prince; and his Highness, elevating his eyebrows, screwing up his mouth, and shrugging his shoulders, altogether presented a comical picture of a puzzled man.
“Well, my dear friend,” said he, “this is rather different from what we expected.”
“Very different; but much more amusing.”
“Humph!” said the Prince, slowly; “I do not think it exactly requires a ghost to tell us that Mr. Beckendorff is not in the habit of going to court. I do not know how he is accustomed to conduct himself when he is honoured by a visit from the Grand Duke; but I am quite sure that, as regards his treatment of myself, to say the least, the incognito is well observed.”
“Mr. von Philipson,” said the gentleman of whom they were speaking, putting his head in at the window, “you shall see my blue passion-flower. We will take a walk round the garden.”
The Prince gave Vivian a look which seemed to suppose they must go, and accordingly they stepped into the garden.