"Yes. I was a shoemaker, and a poor one at that. I have worn out more shoes than I ever made. But I was brought up to it for many years."
"You did not study music from a child, then?"
"No. But I always loved it; and I used to play in the evenings when I had been cobbling all day long."
"And one day you found out you were a great artist and became famous. I see! What a strange beginning!" cried Nino.
"Not exactly that. It took a long time. I was obliged to leave my home, for other reasons, and then I played from door to door, and from town to town, for whatever coppers were thrown to me. I had never heard any good music, and so I played the things that came into my head. By and bye people would make me stay with them awhile, for my music sake. But I never stayed long."
"Why not?"
"I cannot tell you now," said Benoni, looking grave and almost sad: "it is a very long story. I have travelled a great deal, preferring a life of adventure. But of late money has grown to be so important a thing that I have given a series of great concerts, and have become rich enough to play for my own pleasure. Besides, though I travel so much, I like society, and I know many people everywhere. To-night, for instance, though I have been in Rome only a week, I have been to a dinner party, to the theatre, to a reception, and to a ball. Everybody invites me as soon as I arrive. I am very popular,—and yet I am a Jew," he added, laughing in an odd way.
"But you are a merry Jew," said Nino, laughing too, "besides being a great genius. I do not wonder people invite you."
"It is better to be merry than sad," replied Benoni. "In the course of a long life I have found out that."
"You do not look so very old," said Nino. "How old are you?"