'Why I mean to say,' replied the Baron, 'that this very night I will make a motion in the House of Lords, to oblige musical composers from henceforth to leave out all those infernal flats from their music, under a heavy penalty.'
'Ah ha!' said Fiorello, bursting into laughter; 'the proposal will be a pleasant one.'
'It will at least have a good moral effect, Sir,' replied the Baron, with dignity. 'Have we not a statute against profane swearing?'
'Certainly, my lord.'
'Well then, were it not for these vile flats, I should not have broken it, for my own part, more than a thousand times, since I commenced the practice of the violin.'
It never appeared, however, that the Baron carried his threat into execution.
One day, when the Baron, after three years of close application, had come to handle the bow passably well, and could execute with tolerable correctness a solo of Jarnovich, leaving out the flats, he declared to Fiorello that he had made up his mind to give his friends a taste of the first fruits of his newly-acquired talent; and he accordingly directed him to make arrangements for a concert for the ensuing Saturday.
By order of the Baron, notes of invitation were sent out to princes of the royal family, to the grand dignitaries of the united kingdoms, to the speakers of the two houses of parliament, and to the lord-mayor of London. So well known in high life were the foibles and eccentricities of the Baron, that each one took a malicious pleasure in accepting the invitation.
The day appointed for the concert at length arrived. Fiorello was very thoughtful; and at breakfast, spite of the repeated invitations of the Baron's niece, a sprightly girl of sixteen, with whom he sat at table, scarcely swallowed a mouthful.
'What ails you, my good master?' said Miss Betsey to him.