Not until she had drawn the bow across the strings and heard the deep, sweet tones of the old Cremona, did Dorothy realize that in her hands she held an instrument constructed by one of the finest of the old masters--an instrument that had come down, perfectly preserved through the ages, growing better with each pa.s.sing year.

As the girl played one of the simple pieces which lay uppermost on the piano-rack, the big living-room was filled to overflowing with matchless melody. So clear and pure were the tones that Dorothy could hardly believe her ears. Was it indeed she who made such delightful music, or was she dreaming?

Herr Deichenberg's voice brought her back to her normal state of mind.

"It iss beautiful--de melody. I did not believe you could do it, even on a Cremona."

"It is not me, Herr, but this wonderful violin," the girl cried in admiration.

"Oh, come, now, vhen ve simmer t'ings down to a fine point, de Cremona iss not so different from your own instrument, Miss Dorothy."

"Oh, Herr, surely you are mistaken. Why, I seem to be dreaming when I am playing on the Cremona."

"Und vhy iss dat? Because you have made up your mind dat dis iss absolutely de finest violin in de whole vorld, und have prepared yourself to hear somet'ing vhich iss not there. De tones are clear und full, but so are those of your own violin, on vhich you played for me vhen I va.s.s here before."

Dorothy shook her head in disbelief, unable to appreciate the full truth of his words.

Herr Deichenberg smiled.

"You von't believe me, eh? Very vell. Let us on with de lesson. I shall convince you at another time."

"I'm afraid you will have a hard time ever convincing me of that,"

the girl replied.

Dorothy's own violin was tuned, and on this, under the music master's direction, she ran scales for the better part of an hour--to limber her fingers, Herr Deichenberg said.

"But they are already limber, Herr," she returned, in a tone of mild protest.

"Vait, vait," he good-naturedly said. "Vait just a few veeks und den you vill see vhat you shall see. I vill have you doing vhat you Americans call 'stunts' on dat violin. Really, it vill surprise you!

Your fingers are stiff. See; I vill show you. Now, try dis exercise--here!" He opened one of her music books and pushed the music before her.

"Right there, now. One--two--t'ree! One--two--t'ree!--"

Dorothy swung off into the exercise with apparent ease, but soon reached a difficult scale in the third position. Somehow her fingers would not go where she intended them. She tried it once--twice--then stopped, flushing.

"You see?" said the Herr professor. "If I vant to be mean, I vould say, 'I told you so.'"

"Oh, Herr, I beg your pardon! I will never dispute your word again--never--never! My fingers _are_ stiff. They are all right for ordinary music in the first and second positions, but the third I can hardly do at all, and I'm sure I have practiced and practiced it."

"Surely you have practiced it, but never as you shall during de next few veeks. It iss only by constant application to a certain method dat great violin players are made. Dey are expected to accomplish de impossible. Dat may sound rather vague to you, but you vill some day understand vhat I mean."

"I understand what you mean now, Herr. I find an exercise which it is impossible for me to play. But I keep everlastingly at it until I can play it. In that way I have achieved what _seemed_ to be the impossible."

"Dat iss it--dat iss it! You catch my idea exactly. Do you t'ink you vill be able to accomplish many of those impossible t'ings?"

"I shall perform every task you set for me, no matter how long or how hard I have to try."

"Ah, now, dat iss de proper spirit. If all young ladies vere like you vhat a beautiful time de moosic teachers vould have."

"They would, Herr?"

"Oh, yes; dey vould be so overjoyed dat dey vould be avay on a vacation most of de time."

"I suppose you have all sorts of pupils, Herr?" said Aunt Betty, who had been an interested listener to the conversation between the girl and the professor.

"Yes; mostly young girls, madame, und to say dat dey are a big trouble iss but expressing it mildly. In fact, dey are de greatest of my troubles. Dey pay me vell, yes, but vhat iss pay vhen you must labor with dem hour after hour to get an idea t'rough their heads?

Vy, for example I vill show you. A lady pupil vill valk into my studio, t'row off her t'ings und prepare for a lesson. Vhen I say now you do dis or dat, she vill reply, 'Oh, Herr, you should not ask of me de impossible!' Und I try to explain dat it iss only by practice dat she vill ever make a great musician. Den perhaps she vill reply: 'Vell, if I had known it va.s.s such hard vork maybe I vould not have tried to play,' und den she heaves such a sigh dat for a moment I really feel ashamed of myself for making her vork so hard. Oh, madame, it iss awful! Sometimes I almost go crazy in my head." He turned again to Dorothy. "But, come, young lady, back to de lesson, und ve vill soon be t'rough."

Dorothy nodded her willingness, which caused the Herr professor to smile and nod delightedly at Aunt Betty.

"Dat iss de proper spirit," he kept repeating, half aloud.

Scale after scale the girl ran over, repeating dozens of times the same notes, until Herr Deichenberg would nod his head that she had played it to his satisfaction. Then on to another and the same performance over again.

Her work won from the Herr the heartiest of commendation, and when he left he told both Dorothy and Aunt Betty that he would look forward to the next lesson with a great deal of pleasure.

Thereafter, twice each week, the Herr came to Bellvieu. He seemed to dearly love the old place, for during her first four weeks of lessons Dorothy was unable to win from him his consent to take her to his home.

Finally, he agreed that the next lesson should be in the studio, but only after considerable pleading on her part.

"I am doing it to please you," he told her, "for if I have my vay, I vould much rather come to dis beautiful place."

Dorothy could hardly wait for the time of the visit to come.

The Herr had asked Aunt Betty to accompany her great-niece, to meet Frau Deichenberg, and on the morning in question they set out together in the barouche.

Metty finally drew up on a quiet street before the quaintest-looking little house Dorothy had ever seen. It was not a bungalow, yet about it were certain lines which suggested that type of structure. It was all in one story, with great French windows on two sides, and with trailing vines climbing the porch posts onto the roof in thoroughly wild abandon.

Herr Deichenberg came out to meet them and lead them into the living-room of the house, where Dorothy and Aunt Betty met for the first time Frau Deichenberg, who had been out on the occasion of Aunt Betty's first visit. The Frau proved to be a kindly German lady who spoke English with even more accent than her distinguished husband.

The welcome to the studio was complete in every way, and as Dorothy went from room to room examining the rare curios and works of art, which the Herr and his wife had gathered from various parts of the world, she felt that her visit had not been in vain.

In the large, well-lighted music room, where the Herr received his pupils, Dorothy found the things of greatest interest. Half a dozen violins were scattered about on the shelves, or lying on the old-fashioned piano, while clocks of every conceivable size and shape, bronze statues from the Far East, and queerly woven baskets from the Pampas, mingled with the Mexican pottery and valuable geological specimens from her own United States.

Finally, when the girl's curiosity had been thoroughly satisfied, Aunt Betty and Frau Deichenberg were shown into another room and the music master and his pupil began their lesson.

It was not until the lesson was over that the Herr turned to his pupil with a merry twinkle in his eyes and observed:

"You are so fond of moosic, perhaps you do not know dat every year I give a concert in de theater before de opening of de regular season."

"Oh, yes, I have often heard of your concert," the girl replied. "I have longed to go to them, but something has always kept me from it."

"Vell, you are going to my next one."

"I am? Oh, how good of you, Herr!"

"Yes, it iss very good of me, for there you shall meet one of my most promising pupils."