It was this the Lieutenant had anticipated; so now he went for the instruments he had hurriedly assembled. His violin he offered to Sexton Melanoz, who most humbly protested that there were those in the room far more worthy than he to handle this, the greatest of all musical instruments. But when none claimed the distinction, he was as pleased as if he had suddenly come into a fortune, and at once proceeded to tune up.
The flute went to Herr Tyberg, of course. It had been his instrument in the regiment, when he had outgrown the drum. He was well acquainted with the old flute at Mårbacka, and knew it to be always dry and leaky. So he ran out to the kitchen to dip the flute in pale beer and bind it round with tow, to make it hold together.
The guitar was handed to Bookkeeper Geijer, who had a long thin face, a long slender neck, limpid blue eyes, and long slim fingers. There was a certain wistfulness about him, a sort of languishing grace. With a little girlish laugh, he strung the guitar-ribbon round his neck and tenderly pressed the instrument to his heart, as if embracing a sweetheart. The guitar had only three strings, but they were enough for him who was wont to perform on nothing better than a deal table.
Church-beadle Asker had had the foresight to bring his own clarinet. It was in the back pocket of his greatcoat, so that he had only to go down to the office and fetch it.
Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt, sitting in his usual corner by the fire, tried to put on a good face, though he could not perform on any musical instrument with his gout-stiffened fingers. But the Lieutenant now went over to him with the triangle, which he could manage with ease. So the Colour-Sergeant, too, was happy.
Major Ehrencrona sat blowing smoke through his big white moustache. He saw how one after another had been provided with an instrument, but feigned indifference.
“Just give me a couple of pot-lids,” he said to the Lieutenant, “so that I may at least join in the noise-making. I know, of course, that the instrument I play is not to be found in this house.”
Like a streak, the Lieutenant darted into the parlour and came back with a brilliantly polished French horn, with green silk cord and tassel, he had managed to procure for the Major.
“What do you say to this, Uncle?” he asked him.
The old major beamed.