" Jean
said this with a very demure air of mock modesty, knowing well that
the reception of a new ballad from him would equal the furor for a
new aria from the prima donna of the opera at Paris.
"We will all come to hear it, Jean!" cried they: "but take care of
your fiddle or you will get it crushed in the crowd."
"As if I did not know how to take care of my darling baby!" said
Jean, holding his violin high above his head. "It is my only child;
it will laugh or cry, and love and scold as I bid it, and make
everybody else do the same when I touch its heart-strings." Jean
had brought his violin under his arm, in place of a spade, to help
build up the walls of the city. He had never heard of Amphion, with
his lyre, building up the walls of Thebes; but Jean knew that in his
violin lay a power of work by other hands, if he played while they
labored. "It lightened toil, and made work go merrily as the bells
of Tilly at a wedding," said he.
There was immense talk, with plenty of laughter and no thought of
mischief, among the crowd.
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