The violinist examined the instrument with the practised eye of an expert, and turning to Satan said: “The four strings are beautifully white and transparent, but this one is black and odd looking.
“What is it wrapped with?” eagerly inquired Diotti, examining the death string with microscopic care.
“The fifth string was added after an unfortunate episode in the Garden of Eden, in which I was somewhat concerned,” said Satan, soberly. “It is wrapped with strands of hair from the first mother of man.” Impressively then he offered the violin to Diotti.
“I dare not take it,” said the perplexed musician; “it’s from—”
“Yes, it is directly from there, but I brought it from heaven when I—I left,” said the fallen angel, with remorse in his voice. “It was my constant companion there. But no one in my domain—not I, myself—can play upon it now, for it will respond neither to our longing for pity, hope, love, joy, nor even death,” and sadly and retrospectively Satan gazed into vacancy; then, after a long pause: “Try the instrument!”
Diotti placed the violin in position and drew the bow across the string of joy, improvising on it. Almost instantly the birds of the forest darted hither and thither, caroling forth in gladsome strains. The devil alone was sad, and with emotion said:
“It is many, many years since I have heard that string.”
Next the artist changed to the string of pity, and thoughts of the world’s sorrows came over him like a pall.
“Wonderful, most wonderful!” said the mystified violinist; “with this instrument I can conquer the world!”
“Aye, more to you than the world,” said the tempter, “a woman’s love.”