Usually she did it with beautiful accuracy, but on this evening it was utterly inharmonious.

As she drew her bow across the strings Neroda jumped as if he were shot.
"Great God! Signorina," he shouted, "every string is swearing at the G-string! The spirit of music will not come to you to-night unless you tune your violin better." Anita stopped and laid down her bow, and once more holding the violin to her ear, began tuning it.

That time the tuning was so bad that she handed the violin to Neroda.
"You must tune it for me, Maestro," she said, with a wan smile.

"The spirit of music seems far away to-night." Neroda, in a minute, handed her back the instrument in perfect tune.
Anita, testing the strings, her bow wandered into the soft heart-moving music of Mascagni's Intermezzo.

Neroda said nothing, but watched his favorite pupil.