“Unfortunately I know practically nothing about him really, only his name. His name’s Abraxas.”

The musician looked distrustfully around, as if someone might be eavesdropping. Then he bent towards me and said in a whisper: “I thought so. Who are you?”

“I’m a student from the school.”

“How do you know about Abraxas?”

“By chance.”

He thumped on the table, so that his wine spilled over.

“Chance! Don’t talk nonsense, young man! One doesn’t know of Abraxas by chance, mark you. I will tell you something more of him. I know a little about him!”

He ceased talking and pushed back his chair. I looked at him expectantly, and he made a grimace.

“Not here! another time. There, take these!”