Lydia did not press him, thinking that probably it was too painful for him to revive memories of the old days.
When hardships thickened, he would have sold the instrument, in spite of every pang, but for the certainty that Lydia would miss it from his room.
He lived more and more to himself.

Till the beginning of November he was able just to keep body and soul together after paying his rent, then the rent was no longer forthcoming.

Not one article remained to him for which he could obtain money, not one save the violin.

He durst not sell it.

In spite of everything, he clung to a vague hope that someone would find work for him.