Yes, the tones were very pure, very rich, very clear.
Then he took courage, pressed his fingers into the finger-board, and began to play.
Alas, poor Infant of Prague!
Alas, poor born musician, who preferred doing things he had never learned to do!
The exquisite rise and fall of harmony, came not again.
Bitterly disappointed, Ronnie waited, staring into the mirror.
But a rather weary, very lonely, and exceedingly modern young man stared back at him.
At last he realised that he could no longer play the 'cello by inspiration. So he began very carefully feeling for the notes.
The Infant squeaked occasionally, and wailed a little; but on the whole it behaved very well; and, after half-an-hour's work, having found out the key which enabled him to use chiefly the open strings, Ronnie managed to play right through, very fairly in tune, "O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!"
This gave him extraordinary pleasure. It seemed such a certainty of possession, to be able to pick out all the notes for himself.