"I am at your disposition entirely, Princess," Lensky hastened to assure her.
"It is about my violins," she began, in a drawling, whining voice, which was her manner, and meant nothing.
"But, mamma," Natalie hastily interrupted her, "this is not the moment----"
"Pray, permit me," said Lensky; and turning to the princess, "so it is about your violins?"
"Yes. My husband--you know what an excellent player he was," continued the old lady, "has left three violins. People have always told me they were worth a small fortune, but I did not wish to part with them at any price. I ask you--a souvenir. But finally--times are hard, and one must not be too hard on the peasants, and, besides, as none of my children play the violin, however musical they are--well, I would be very glad if you would try the instruments and incidentally value them.
"You could perhaps advise me--yes---- What is the matter, Natascha?"
For Natalie had blushed to the roots of her hair. Tears stood in her eyes.
Boris guessed that she feared he would look upon the explanation of her mother as a bid.
"I remember the violins very well," he hastened to assure her; "especially one of them excited my envy. It would please me very much to try them again."
The servant brought the violins and at the same time a pile of hastily snatched-up violin music, smelling of dust, dampness, and camphor. The wonderfully beautiful instruments were in a pitiable condition--half of the strings were gone, those that remained were brittle and dry. But still there was a small stock of them. After Boris, with the loving patience and surgical skill with which only a true violinist handles an Amati, had put it in a suitable condition and then tuned it, he drew the bow softly across it. A strangely sweet, tender, sad sound vibrated through the great empty room. It seemed as if the violin awoke with a sigh from an enchanted sleep. A pleasant shudder passed over Natalie.