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"And the melodies of Handel, are they tunes?" Lady Bar. "They are! They are!" Ips. "And the 'Russian Anthem, and the 'Marseillaise, and 'Ah, Perdona'?" Tal. "And 'Yankee Doodle'?" Lady Bar. "So that Sir Henry, who prided himself on his ignorance, has a wide field for its dominion." Tal. "All good violin players do like me; they prelude, not play tunes." Ips.
"You are aware that good music is a thing to be wedded to immortal verse, shall I recite a bit of poetry to match Talbot's strain?" Miss V. "Oh, yes! how nice." Ips. "A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. J. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. U. V. W. X. Y. Z. Y. X. W. V. U. T. S. O. N. M. L. K. J. I. H. G. F. A. M. little p. little t." Lady Bar. "Beautiful! Superb!
Tal. "A tune is everybody knows what." Lady Bar. "A tune is a tune, that is what you meant to say." Tal. "Of course it is." Lady Bar. "Be reasonable, Ipsden; no man can do two things at once; how can the pupil of Herz condemn a thing and know what it means contemporaneously?" Ips. "Is the drinking-song in 'Der Freischutz' a tune?" Lady Bar. "It is." Ips.
She stood blocking up the doorway with her 'ands on her 'ips, while I explained, with Kumbo still 'anging on my arm and a crowd collecting behind, and the more I explained, the more I could see she didn't believe a word of it. She never 'as believed it. I sent for Mr.
"It is in her book, and not in her soul." Lady Bar., to Lord Ips. "Then it has chosen the better situation of the two." Ips. "Miss Vere is to the fine art of music what the engrossers are to the black art of law; it all filters through them without leaving any sediment; and so the music of the day passes through Miss Vere's mind, but none remains to stain its virgin snow." He bows, she smiles.
Ipsden has been taking lessons on the thinking instrument." Hither. "He has been perdu among vulgar people." Tal. "And expects a pupil of Herz to play him tunes!" Lady Bar. "What are tunes, Sir Henry?" Tal. "Something I don't play, Lady Barbara." Lady Bar. "I understand you; something we ought to like." Ips. "I have a Stradivarius violin at home. It is yours, Talbot, if you can define a tune."
Tearing up the count's letter, and putting the official document carefully in his pocket, he pressed his heel against his horse's flank, and started at a canter. He stopped for the night at Ips, and on the following day rode to Linz. The snow had fallen almost incessantly, and he was glad, indeed, that he had brought the coat as well as the cloak with him. The next night he halted at Freystadt.
At Linz they gave a successful concert and every one was delighted with the playing of the children. From here they continued their journey as far as the monastery of Ips, where they expected to stay for the night. It had been a wonderful day, spent in sailing down the majestic Danube, till they reached the grey old building with its battlemented walls.
Lady Bar., to herself. "Insolent. And the little dunce thinks he is complimenting her." Ips. "Perhaps Talbot will come to our rescue he is a fiddler." Tal. "An amateur of the violin." Ips. "It is all the same thing." Lady Bar. "I wish it may prove so." Miss V. "Beautiful." Mrs. Vere. "Charming." Hither. "Superb!" Ips.
"Sine qua non Ips Dixit Quid pro quo cui bono Ad infininim E Unibus plurum." Brown. Two hours later. Return we again to the Banditti's Cave. Revelry still holds high carnival among the able and efficient bandits. A knock is heard at the door. From his throne at the head of the table the Chief cries, "Come in!" and an old man, haggard, white-haired, and sadly bent, enters the cave.
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