But the culmination of the enthusiasm occurred during the performance of the slow movement. Here the air, a gem of imperishable beauty, passes from one instrument to another. When the theme falls to the second violin, the violino primo accompanies, the viola and ’cello being silent, if I remember aright. Here was Mr. Whacker’s opportunity. The movement is without technical difficulties, but the mere idea that he had a solo to perform made the old gentleman as nervous as a graduating Miss. He lightly touched his strings to be quite sure they were in tune—gave a turn to a peg—wiped his spectacles—blew his nose—lifted the violin to his left ear, softly plucking D and G as though still in doubt—smoothed down the page—tightened his bow—and, with a bow to M. Villemain, began. He had scarcely played a half-dozen notes when the Herr cried out, “Goot for de Barrone!” “Bravo, Secondo!” echoed the Primo from the midst of his rapid semiquavers. Deeply gratified and encouraged, the old man gave an unconscious but perceptible toss of the head; and his snowy locks trembled upon his temples. Charley lifted his eyes from the floor with a sigh of relief. His anxiety lest his old friend should break down had been touching to see,—the more so as he had tried so hard to conceal it. The performer reached the appoggiatura about the middle of the air, and turned it not without grace. It was nothing to do,—absolutely nothing,—but the two artists were bent on giving applause without stint. “_Parbleu! Tourné à merveille!_” cried the First Violin, in his native language. “Py Tam!” shouted the Bass, in an unknown tongue. “_Je crois bien!_” rejoined the Belgian, as though he understood him. One of the Herr’s foibles was his fondness for making what it was his happiness to consider puns in the English language. “De Barrone served us a good turn dere!” he whispered to his unoccupied comrade. The Viola smiled without taking his eyes off the Second Fiddle. “You take?” inquired the Violoncello, stimulating his neighbor’s sense of humor by a gentle punch in the ribs with his bow. “Very good, very good!” answered Charley; and my grandfather, taking the compliment to himself, rather laid himself out on a _crescendo_ and _forte_ that he encountered just then. Mr. Whacker had practised his part over, hundreds of times, during the week preceding its execution by him on this occasion, and he really played it very creditably. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that, at its end, he should have been greeted with a small tempest of clappings and bravos and goots; and it remained his conviction ever after, that of all the quartets of Haydn, the Kaiser most nearly approaches the unapproachable perfection of Mozart. He looked at the matter from the Second Violin point of view. Who shall cast the first stone? CHAPTER XXI.