It was a scamper of hieroglyphics which could only mean anything to a musician.
"Well, what do you think of him ?" Ingolby asked as the Romany lowered the bow.

"Paganini--Joachim--Sarasate--any one, it is good enough," was the half-abstracted reply.
"It is good enough for you--almost, eh ?" Ingolby meant his question as a compliment, but an evil look shot into the Romany's face, and the bow twitched in his hand.

He was not Paganini or Sarasate, but that was no reason why he should be insulted.
Ingolby's quick perception saw, however, what his words had done, and he hastened to add: "I believe you can get more out of that fiddle than Sarasate ever could, in your own sort of music anyhow.

I've never heard any one play half so well the kind of piece you played this afternoon.
I'm glad I didn't make a fool of myself buying the fiddle.

I didn't, did I?
I gave five thousand dollars for it." "It's worth anything to the man that loves it," was the Romany's response.