"A short time afterwards, I had been playing some very difficult duetts with Haak. As he laid his fiddle down, he said, 'Now, Carl, put your Sunday coat on to-night, and your silk stockings. We will go together to the Baron's. There won't be many there, and it will be a good opportunity to introduce you to him.' "My heart throbbed with delight, for I expected to meet with things unheard-of and extraordinary, though I did not know why this was my expectation. "We arrived there. The Baron, a rather small gentleman, advanced in age, wearing an old Frankish embroidered gala dress, came to meet us as we entered the room, and shook my master cordially by the hand. Never had I felt, at the sight of a man of rank, more sincere reverence, a more infelt, sincere, pleasant attraction. His face expressed the most genuine kindliness, whilst from his eyes flashed that darksome fire which so often indicates the artist who is, in verity, penetrated by his art. All that diffidence with which I, as an inexperienced neophyte, would otherwise have had to contend, fled from me instantly. "'How are you, my dear Haak?' the Baron said. 'How are you getting on? Have you been having a right good study at my concerto? Good, good; we shall hear tomorrow. Oh, I suppose this is the young virtuoso you were telling me about?' "I cast my eyes down bashfully. I felt that I blushed over and over again. "Haak mentioned my name, praised my natural talent, and lauded the rapid progress which I had made in a short time. "'And so you have chosen the violin as your instrument,' said the Baron. 'Have you considered, my son, that the violin is the most difficult of all instruments ever invented, and that it is one which, whilst it seems, in its extreme simplicity, to comprehend in itself the most luxuriant richness of music, is, in reality, an extraordinary mystery, which only discloses itself to a rare few, specially organized by nature to comprehend it? Do you know of a certainty, does your spirit tell you with distinctness, that you will be the master of that marvellous mystery? Many a one has thought this, and has remained a miserable bungler all his days. I should not wish, my son, that you should swell the ranks of those wretched creatures. However, at all events, you can play me something, and then I will tell you what you are like, what state you are in as regards this matter, and you will follow my counsel. Perhaps it is with you as it was with Carl Staunitz, who thought he was going to turn out a marvellous virtuoso. When I opened his eyes, he threw his fiddle behind the stove, and took to the Tenor and Viol d'Amour, and a very good job he made of them. On them he could stamp about with those broad stretching fingers of his, and play quite fairly well. But, however, just now I want to hear _you_, my little son.'