Here's
money for
you. Come;
lend it to
me. I am a
great
violinist.""Vraiment,
monsieur!"
"Ah!
Vraiment!
Voyons!
Donnez--un
instant--vous
verrez."The
fiddler,
doubting
but
hypnotized,
handed him
the
fiddle;
his dark
face
changed
when he
saw this
stranger
fling it
up to his
shoulder
and the
ways of
his
fingers
with bow
and
strings.
Fiorsen
had begun
to walk up
the
street,
his eyes
searching
for the
flower-boxes.
He saw
them,
stopped,
and began
