Lucky Jim [antikvár]

I!'' 'They made a silly mistake, though,' the Professor of History said, and his smile, as Dixon watched, gradually sank ^ beneath the surface of his features at the memory. 'After the interval we did a litde piece by Dowland,' he went on; 'for recorder and keyboard, you know. I played the recorder, of course, and young Johns He paused, and his trunk grew rigid as he walked; it was as if some entirely different man, some impostor who couldn't copy his voice, had momentarily taken his place; then he went on again: ' young Johns played the piano. Versatile ladj that; the oboe's his instrument, really. Well anyway, the reporter chap must have got the story wrong, or not been listening, or something. Anyway, there it was in the Posi as large as life: Dowland, yes, they'd got him right; Messrs Welch and Johns, yes; but what do you think they said then?' Dixon shook his head. 'I don't know. Professor,' he said in sober veracity. No other professor in Great Britain, he thought, set such store by being called Professor. 'Flute and piano.' 'Oh?' 'Flute and piano; not recorder and piano.' Welch laughed briefly. 'Now a recorder, you know, isn't like a flute, though it's the flute's immediate ancestor, of course. To begin with, it's played, that's the recorder, what they call a beCy that's to say you blow into a shaped mouthpiece like that of an oboe or a clarinet, you see. A present-day flute's played what's known as traverso, in other words you blow across a hole instead of ' As Welch again seemed becalmed, even slowing further in his walk, Dixon relaxed at his side. He'd found his professor standing, surprisingly enough, in front of the Recent Additions shelf in the College Library, and they were now moving diagonally across a small lawn towards the front of the main fir; >' V :