Ingolby had purposely given
the warning about the fiddle, in the belief that it might break the
unwelcome intensity of the scene. He detested melodrama, and the scene
came precious near to it. Men had been killed before his eyes more than
once, but there had been no rodomontade even when there had been a woman
in the case.
This Romany lover, however, seemed anxious to make a Sicilian drama out
of his preposterous claim, and it sickened him. Who was the fellow that
he should appear in the guise of a rival to himself! It was humiliating
and offensive. Ingolby had his own kind of pride and vanity, and they
were both hurt now. He would have been less irritable if this rival had
been as good a man as himself or better. He was so much a gamester that
he would have said, "Let the best man win," and have taken his chances.
His involuntary strategy triumphed for the moment. The Romany looked at
the fiddle for an instant with murderous eyes, but the cool, quiet voice
of Ingolby again speaking sprayed his hot virulence.
"You can make a good musician quite often, but a good fiddle is a prize-
packet from the skies," Ingolby said. "When you get a good musician and
a good fiddle together it's a day for a salute of a hundred guns.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80