piloti

Piloti was a bachelor; an old woman kept house and he always addressed her in the Hungarian tongue.

Yet I liked Piloti; he played the piano well, sang with no little feeling, painted neat water sketches and was a capital host.

Piloti's attention was attracted by my silence, and when he saw the woman he uttered a harsh, crackling word.

She always wore black, and after Liszt's death Piloti himself went into mourning.

As I gradually emerged from darkened slumber I became conscious of Piloti's voice.