Philip, who had been examining some rare and beautiful musical instruments which were in the room, opened his violin case at once and stood, bow in hand, looking inquiringly from Lord Ashden to Signor Marini, with a simple desire to know their pleasure and an utter absence of embarrassment or nervousness which rather surprised the Italian.
“What shall I play, sir?” asked the boy, and the teacher named a rather difficult étude which, fortunately for Philip, he had been practising within the week.
The maestro pretended at first not to be listening very attentively; indeed, he yawned once or twice and walked to the window, where he stood drumming noiselessly upon the pane with his dirty fingers; but, after a little, he began to listen more attentively, and when the first few wailing notes of the violin had melted into the very passionate intensity of the second measure of the composition, he wheeled suddenly around, sat down with his arms folded on the back of a chair, and listened with unbroken attention to the end.
When Philip had finished playing he laid his violin down carefully on the table and turned toward Lord Ashden with an inquiring smile as though he would have said:
“Was it all right, my friend?”
Lord Ashden did not reply, but he looked at Signor Marini with an amused smile. The whole expression of the latter’s face had changed, and presently he said to Philip:
“Come here, my boy.”
Philip went over to him at once, with a pretty, respectful inclination of the head, which seemed to please the old man. He asked him a few short, rapid questions about his practising, his instrument, and his plans for the future.
“You have formed some rather bad habits in your playing,” he said. “They can only be corrected by very hard work.” He paused a moment with his glittering eyes fixed upon the boy’s upturned face. “Tell me, are you willing to work hard, very hard? to practise all day, and, if necessary, all night, too? Are you willing to give up everything—pay attention now to what I am saying—to give up everything for your art?” And, as Philip nodded gravely, fixing his earnest eyes full upon the old man’s face, the latter got up from his chair, which he pushed away from him with so much violence that it fell over on the floor.
“Very well,” he said, “I believe you; when can you begin—at once?”