After Supper, During Which He Charmed Us With His Conversation And
Pure Castilian, Which Was Like Music As He Spoke It, We Formed A
Circle Before A Wood Fire In The Dining-Room And Made Him Take The
Middle Seat.
For he had confessed that he performed on the guitar, and
we all wanted to sit where we could see as well as listen.
He tuned
the instrument in a leisurely way, pausing often to continue the
conversation with my parents, until at last, seeing how eager we all
were, he began to play, and his music and style were strange to us,
for he had no jigging tunes with fantastic flights and flourishes so
much affected by our native guitarists. It was beautiful but serious
music.
Then came another long pause and he talked again, and said the pieces
he had been playing were composed by his chief favourite, Sara sate.
He said that Sara sate had been one of the most famous guitarists in
Spain, and had composed a good deal of music for the guitar before he
had given it up for the violin. As a violinist he would win a European
reputation, but in Spain they were sorry that he had abandoned the
national instrument.
All he said was interesting, but we wanted more and more of his music,
and he played less and less and at longer intervals, and at last he
put the guitar down, and turning to my parents, said with a smile that
he begged to be excused - that he could play no more for thinking.
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