His violin was under his arm, and he raised it to his chin, tuned it softly, and quickly began a little tune. Hungarians love music and it was but a moment before a crowd gathered around. He played a gay little song, "_Nezz roysám a szemembe_," one of the old Magyar love songs in which a lover implores his sweetheart to look into his eyes and read there that for him she shines like a star in the blue of heaven, and when he had finished everyone cried for more. This time he whisked into a dance tune and feet patted in time to the music and faces were fairly wreathed in smiles. When he stopped with a gay flourish, everybody cried, "More, boy, more!" and Banda Bela smiled happily as one in the crowd tossed him a _krajczar_.[9] He took off his cap and passed it around among the crowd. Many a _krajczar_ fell into it and one silver piece came from a Magyar officer, a tall fine-looking man with a sad face, who stood on the edge of the crowd. "Who are you, boy, and why do you play? Do you need money?" asked the officer. "Not for myself, Your Gracious Highness, but the little one wishes red-topped boots and also a jacket," said the boy simply. "These of course she must have," said the officer, with a smile which lighted up his sad face. "Where is this little sister of yours? At home with her mother?" "No, Most High-Born Baron," said Banda Bela. "The mother I have not, but Aszszony Semeyer is very kind to us, and Marushka is here with me. That little maid by the cooking stall." "She is a fair little maid, of course she must have her boots," said the officer. "But you have earned them, for your music is like wine to empty hearts. What is your name, boy, and where do you live?" "My name is Banda Bela, Most Gracious Baron. I live since yesterday at the house of Emeric Semeyer. My father was Gergeley Banda, the musician, now dead." "I have often seen and heard your father in Buda-Pest," said the officer kindly, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You will play as well as he did if you keep on." Banda Bela's eyes shone. "That would please me more than anything else in all the world," he said. "I think now I have enough for Marushka's boots, so I need not play more, save one thing for the pleasure of those who have paid me. I will play a song of my fathers," and he played a gentle little melody, with a sad, haunting strain running through it, which brought tears to the eyes. "Boy, you are a genius! What is that?" asked the baron when he had finished. "It is called the 'Lost One,'" said Banda Bela. "The little song running through it is of a child who has been lost from home. The words are: "The hills are so blue, The sun so warm, The wind of the moor so soft and so kind! Oh, the eyes of my mother, The warmth of her breast, The breath of her kiss on my cheek, alas!" The officer put a whole silver dollar in the boy's hand and turned away without a word, and Banda Bela wondered as he saw tears in the stern eyes.