"I will accommpany you a little way, if you will allow me."
Nino stared hard at the stranger, wondering what could induce him to
take so much interest in a singer. Then he nodded gravely and turned
toward his home, inwardly hoping that his aggressive acquaintance
lived in the opposite direction. But he was mistaken. The tall man
blew a quantity of smoke through his nose and walked by his side. He
strode over the pavement with a long, elastic step.
"I live not far from here," he said, when they had gone a few steps,
"and if the Signor Cardegna will accept of a glass of old wine and a
good cigar I shall feel highly honoured." Somehow an invitation of
this kind was the last thing Nino had expected or desired, least of
all from a talkative stranger who seemed determined to make his
acquaintance.
"I thank you, signore," he answered, "but I have supped, and I do not
smoke."
"Ah--I forgot. You are a singer, and must of course be careful. That
is perhaps the reason why you wander about the streets when the nights
are dark and damp. But I can offer you something more attractive than
liquor and tobacco. A great violinist lives with me,--a queer,
nocturnal bird,--and if you will come he will be enchanted to play for
you. I assure you he is a very-good musician, the like of which you
will hardly hear nowadays. He does not play in public any longer, from
some odd fancy of his."
Nino hesitated. Of all instruments he loved the violin best, and in
Rome he had had but little opportunity of hearing it well played.
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