... His volant touch,
Instinct through all proportions, low and high,
Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue.
Hear till ’t! It’s gran’—even though ye dinna ken what it means a bit.”
“I do know what it means,” said Florimel. “Let me see: volant means —what does volant mean?”
“It means fleein’, I suppose.”
“Well, he means some musician or other.”
“Of coorse: it maun be Jubal—I ken a’ the words but fugue; though I canna tell what business instinct an’ proportions hae there.”
“It’s describing how the man’s fingers, playing a fugue—on the organ, I suppose,——”
“A fugue ’ll be some kin’ o’ a tune, than? That casts a heap o’ licht on ’t, my leddy—I never saw an organ: what is ’t like?”
“Something like a pianoforte.”
“But I never saw ane o’ them either. It’s ill makin’ things a’thegither oot o’ yer ain heid.”