'Yes, Miladi,' said the young man, 'they are real violin hands. What were you playing just now, my lad?'
'I don't know, sir,' I said. 'I play just what comes into my head.'
Lady Greville looked at her nephew with a glance of triumph.
'What did I tell you?' she cried. 'The boy is a genius, Felix. I shall have him educated.'
'All your geese are swans, Auntie,' said the young man in English.
Lady Greville, however, ignored this thrust.
'Will you play for me now, my dear,' she said, 'as you did before—just what comes into your head?'
I nodded, and was getting my fiddle to my chin, when she stopped me.
'Not that thing,' bestowing a glance of contempt at my instrument.
'Felix, the Stradivarius.'
The young man went to the other side of the room, and returned with the case which I had noticed. He put it in my hand, with the injunction to handle it gently. I had never heard of Cremona violins, nor of my namesake Stradivarius; but at the sight of the dark seasoned wood, reposing on its blue velvet, I could not restrain a cry of admiration.