 CHAPTER 7 A GREAT SONG REHERSAL NOW TOOK PLACE EVERY DAY ON THE PASTURE VINCY had formed a chorus of all the boys having good voices. Some, of course, could not sing, while others did not care to do it. Also some of the cowherds had to remain with the cattle. The rehearsals took up a lot of time because VINCY demanded the little bit he talked them every day should be perfectly sung. He could not bear false notes, and whenever he heard one, he cried out as if a wasp had stung him. He then made them repeat the whole passage again. VINCY had long known that Jos and Varely had the best and truest voices, and so he chose Jos's leader for the high voices and Varely for the alto voices. Besides doing splendid work in singing, the two boys proved most helpful in keeping the other singers in order. When any of the boys knew anything by heart, they wished to sing right out as soon as VINCY began to play. But Jos and Varely realized that this would not do, so they had to restrain the eager singers till their time came. The following Sunday had been chosen by VINCY for the performance. He would have gladly waited, if it had been necessary, but his chorus was perfectly trained. It was the most suitable day in the week, as most of the boys had their freedom that afternoon. Jos and VINCY wandered up the mountainside with their little troop of singers. On their journey up, other boys from neighboring cottages joined them. Many even wanted to go along as listeners. In that way a considerable number had gathered together before they all approached the tower. The grandfather was sitting as usual in the sunshine on his bench, and a cool mountain breeze was spanning his deeply tinted cheeks. He looked questioningly at the approaching boys. VINCY, Jos and Varely, the leaders, came to within a few feet of the old man, and the others grouped themselves about in a semi-circle. Now VINCY began to play. At first he seemed to begin a gay tune, but soon the instrument took up a sad and serious air. Finally the tone seemed to weep and sob as if someone were pleading for mercy. At this point the chorus took up the following words, quietly giving a ray of hope, but the blessed song of mercy. The lamenting tones of the pipe vibrated anew till the chorus sang a second time, this time louder and in fuller tones, but the blessed song of mercy. Once more the pipe took up its pleaning melody, but the chorus now took up the refrain with full strength, and the words this time sounded like the various jubilation. But the blessed song of mercy resounds through all eternity. The pipe joined in here with notes of triumph, and together with the voices all ended in a happy song of joy. Everything was quiet as the grandfather sat motionless with his hands folded on his knees. One of the boys started to run away, then more followed, and soon all of them were hurrying towards the green meadow where the cows from the valley were grazing. Here they found their comrades who were in charge of the cattle. Barelli alone had remained beside Yos and Vinci, but he also disappeared because such quiet was not long to his taste. When the grandfather raised his glance he seemed to return from some faraway place. You sang me a beautiful song, he said kindly. Where did you find it? I suppose you taught it to the others, Vinci. I got the idea from you, replied Vinci. Said the grandfather, you seem to comprehend pretty well what one says to you. But where did you find the music? It came to me because I wanted to sing you the song you could not remember, said Vinci. It is very good of you to give an old man such pleasure. But wait, I nearly forgot something, said the grandfather searching about in his pockets. I have thought of you, too, for I told Peter Silvanus about your wanting a certain kind of song. You can see how good he is for look. He brought it to me. The only condition he made is that you are to sing him the song when you have found the tune for it. Oh, here it is at last. The grandfather now pulled out a long sheet of paper which he gave to Vinci. A song was written on it in firm large letters. I have to say something else, boys, continued the grandfather. Yos, you know where the cellar is. Bring me the cheese which has been cut, and one of the largest loaves of bread. Vinci must go with you, because it is too heavy for you alone. Take it down to the boys who have sung for me today. You can have a little feast together, for you have made one for me, too. Take a cup out of the kitchen, so you can take turns drinking. Zaver can milk for you the cows that give the best milk. The grandfather always called for relief by his real name, for the boy's father and grandfather had been called the same before him. The two now ran away to do his bidding, and found themselves puffing hard under their load while climbing the cellar stairs. But they did so with radiant faces, for they happily looked forward to arriving at the pasture. Come again, boys, said the grandfather, gratefully shaking their hands. Make some other Sunday happy for me some time with your beautiful singing. All the singers had remained on the huge pasture with the tower boys, and yells of delight greeted the laden couple. They settled down immediately to begin the feast. Their appetites proved astonishing, for many of the boys from the small cottages thereabout usually got only potatoes for their daily fare. Vinci had settled a little behind the close circle. He wished to be alone in order to read the words of his song. The melody was still haunting him, and he wondered if the words in music would harmonize. Pulling out the paper, he found that he could read the fine, clear writing without trouble. He read it over and over again. Suddenly a terrific longing drew him up to the field of roses, a longing which he found impossible to resist. Getting up he quietly slipped away from the busy feast-makers. Without stopping he ran up the slope into the midst of the marvelous rose-field, and settled down on his chosen spot, surrounded on every side by thick clumps of bloom. Here he could hear his song again, and sing it to himself. He pulled out his sheet and read, Behold there in the evening light the clouds like roses glowing, nor thorns have these, their grace to spite, no briars mar the roses bright, that in the clouds are glowing. And in this light how full of glee outforms the sparkling brooklet. White as the snow, its garment free, how pure it is, how fair to see, the gaily foaming brooklet. Majestic in the sunset's ray, the ancient peaks are standing, for though poor mortals go astray, and like the grass must fade away, the mountains still are standing. Within the golden gleaming sky full many a grief is melted, ye valley dwellers come on high, come all for here where heaven is nigh, full many a grief is melted. That evening Vincy came tearing down the mountain side so late that the whole family had been gathered together before the house, looking for him on every side. Yos had returned several hours ago, and had related to them the grandfather's delight at the music, also how he had treated them to a feast, and how Vincy had suddenly disappeared no one knew with her. They had all vainly guessed where he might be. One member of the family after another had gone outside to see if he was coming home, till finally all of them were on the lookout. He came running along at last. Vincy, Vincy, the uncle called to him, we almost thought you had run away. Oh, I'll never do that, Vincy assured him panting hard. I was sitting among the alpine roses, and entirely forgot the time. I'd do just the opposite, declared Faz. If I had to sit up there away from everybody, and with not even a cow to talk to, I'd have to think all the time. I wonder how late it is. Perhaps you made some pipes, Rosely wanted to find out? No, Rosely. I'll make some more tomorrow, Vincy replied with understanding. The father urged them to go into the house, for he longed for a little Sunday music, and first of all for supper, because the mother had refused to give them any till Vincy should come back. They were all very hungry. During the next few days Vincy spent many a happy hour in his beloved Rosefield, which he could do with a clear conscience. Yos knew what was going on, and he sought to it that Vincy got the fine morning hours to himself. He therefore sent him up as soon as they reached the pasture, for he was dreadfully eager to learn a new song. After a few days Vincy called his course together, and by this time they made such rapid progress that he had to wonder at them. All they had to do was to follow the melody the pipe was playing, which was most pleasing, besides being easy to remember. The chorus sang with great enthusiasm, for the words were easily understood, and stayed in their memory without difficulty. They always hated to stop when the time came. Vincy had only to accompany the song a few times, with Yos and Varely as leaders, and all the boys on every pasture could sing it. When they got together in the morning one would cry to the other, let's sing our song, for they fully felt that it was their very own. When Sunday came all the musicians proceeded up to the grandfather, who having already got wind of the affair, looked forward eagerly to their visit. The number was even larger than the first time, and the performers in their eagerness had barely reached his bench when they began their song. The volume of their voices increased till the end. Bravo! Bravo! exclaimed the grandfather, delighted. Once more! Once more! With undiminished enthusiasm the whole performance was repeated. When Vincy saw that the singers went on smoothly without him, he signaled to Yos and Varely. Lightly as lizards the three slipped quickly away. This had been planned beforehand, for Vincy was eager to do what the grandfather had bidden him do. But as he was convinced that so much noise would be unseemly for the hospice, he had decided not to let the others know where he was going. If they had known, he probably could not have prevented the boys from running after them. As soon as they reached the road the three boys were able to wander along a little more slowly, and they soon saw the large building of stone which Vincy remembered so clearly. What a terrible impression it had made on him! How silently it lay there, and how frightened he had been when he had thought it might be his uncle's home! How different it looked now as it lay peacefully in the sunshine, and seemed even to beckon to the boys. Vincy knew now that here lived the good monks who helped half-frozen travelers in winter as they struggled up the mountain in bad weather. When they stood before the door, Varely pulled the bell-rope so mightily that they could hear it re-eckle inside. Soon after a very small old man opened to the heavy door a trifle. That's the porter, said Varely. What do you want? asked the old man. We want to see Peter Sylvainus quickly replied Varely. The old man, after examining the three suspiciously, said finally in a measured tone. Well, boys, Peter Sylvainus can't be brought out for a joke. He has usually very different customers from you. What do you want from him? We had better go if Peter Sylvainus has no time for us, said Vincy timidly. But Varely could not be disposed of so easily. We have a message for him from grandfather, he said, unruffled. Grandfather told us to give it to Peter Sylvainus himself. At this the old man opened the door a little wider and let the three boys enter. You can wait here, he said curtly, leaving them and going down a dim long corridor, where they could still hear his dragging footsteps after they could not see him anymore. After a while a firm and rapid step came towards them. Here he comes, said Varely, unabashed, when the monk with a long garment stood before them and examined them with penetrating glances. You are one of the boys from the tower. You carry their stamp about you, he said, turning to Varely. And who are your companions? He belongs to Lorenz Lassa near the chapel, and he is his cousin, Vincy Lassa, from Luke, explained Varely. A curious smile flitted over the monk's features at the mention of the last name. Looking at Vincy once more, he said pleasantly, come with me. Then he led them through the long, echoing corridor, and after opening a door in the rear, bade them enter. It was a very large room with dark panelled walls, against which ancient leather chairs with high backs were ranged. In the middle of it stood a huge square table, but Vincy could not take his eyes from an object he had noticed in a corner. It looked slightly like a high cupboard, and somewhat resembled Alida's piano, but was a trifle higher. Standing in front of the trio, the monk asked the grandfather's wishes. Vincy felt that it was for him to speak. He expressed himself as willing to sing the song which the kind father had sent him through the grandfather. Good, I'll be glad to hear it, said the monk. Upon noticing that Vincy still hesitated, he added, What else do you want to ask me, boy? Shall I sing it, or may I play? asked Vincy. Play, for I must hear your pipe, pater sylvanus replied with a friendly smile. They lost no time and began. Vincy, entirely sure of his two singers and much encouraged by the monk's great kindness, played not the melody, but a little accompaniment which he had practiced for himself. At the end of the song, pater sylvanus glanced at Vincy affectionately, then laying his hand on the boy's shoulder and looking him in the eyes, he said, I'd like to know something, boy, and you must be sure to tell me the truth. Have you ever heard this melody before, or one that was a little like it to some other words? No, it belongs to this song. I only found it when I got your words from the grandfather, Vincy replied guilelessly, looking up at the questioner with wide, honest eyes. I'd like to hear the song once more, said the monk. Don't leave out either the verses or the accompaniment. The three began again happily before to be asked to repeat it was a sign that it had pleased the monk. Now, said pater sylvanus, when they had come to the end, you must hear how my harmonium sounds to it. I wonder if you'll like it. Going up to the big high box he opened it and began to play. Vincy listened breathlessly. What wonderful, deeply gripping tones his whole heart was shaken. And was it possible? It sounded so strangely familiar. Yes, it was his own melody with the accompaniment the pipe was playing. But how different, how full and rich! Vincy stood still in silent rapture when the tones had died away. Oh, that was beautiful! Much more beautiful than our music, he said, quite carried away with the beautiful sounds. It was your song, boy, and I did not have to add much, said the monk kindly. Come nearer, have you never before heard such an instrument? No, answered Vincy after stepping quite near to the harmonium, but I have heard a piano. The monk asked Vincy what music he had heard on the piano, and Vincy related the story of the short music lessons which he had enjoyed so much. Stroking Vincy's curly hair a few times, the monk smiled sympathetically. Then he asked, do you think you would get pleasure from learning how to play my instrument? Vincy hardly knew if he had heard a right. He was so thrilled, with glowing eyes he looked silently at the monk. Well, I suppose you mean yes. A thousand times yes, Vincy finally was able to say. Good! Tell your uncle Lorenz about it, and let me know tomorrow morning what he says. If he doesn't object, we can play a little every morning. Giving his hand to the boys, Peter Sylvainus, after saying a kind word to each of them in turn, opened to the door and let them out, and they strolled gaily down the mountainside. Vincy was walking in a perfect dream beside his companions, who were both talking with animation. He kept on hearing Peter Sylvainus' words. Would you get pleasure from learning how to play my instrument? Give him pleasure! It was a happiness he could hardly comprehend. Farelli had turned off and gone back to the tower without Vincy's noticing it, and before long the other two were home. During supper-time, Yos related to his parents how friendly Peter Sylvainus had been, and what he had proposed to do for Vincy if his father did not object. Of course not, said the latter at once. I am glad that Vincy has the chance to learn something fine. Early next morning Vincy came to Peter Sylvainus and repeated his uncle's words with a radiant face. Then let us begin at once, said the monk leading the boy to the great room with the harmonium. These lessons differed considerably from Elidas, and the teachers seemed to forget the time as much as his pupil. One hour and a second hour had gone by when the sudden sound of a bell reminded Peter Sylvainus how late it really was. Quickly closing his instrument and giving the boy his hand he said, we'll go on to moral, but be sure to come as early as today. Vincy went away so filled with happiness that he must run right over to the grandfather and tell him all the wonderful and unexpected things that had happened to him. No one could have been able to share his joy better than the grandfather, who was as pleased as if it had all happened to him. Vincy told of everything that the Peter had already explained and taught him, and he did not leave without giving his solemn promise often to bring reports of his progress and at the same time piped the old man a little song. A glorious succession of days followed for Vincy, and the further Peter Sylvainus took him the more his burning desire grew to get still further. Peter Sylvainus himself seemed to find pleasure in the lessons, for he taught his pupil every morning, and sometimes the lessons lasted fully three hours. When the monk had to leave for other duties he let Vincy stay and practice what he had prepared with him. The boy sat many an hour in the quiet house. No noise ever interrupted him, and the time flew by unnoticed. When the sun finally slanted across the harmonium through a certain window he knew that evening was near. Quickly shutting the instrument he noiselessly went down the long corridor and out to the road. This gave him time enough to visit the grandfather and find his cousins and their comrades still gathered together. He was greeted with fresh enthusiasm every time. A chorus of various frightful noises always followed his arrival, because every owner of a pipe wanted to show him what he had learned to play. Vincy could not help wondering at the number of boys who owned pipes since he had left the pasture. The boys had possibly found out how to make them themselves. His bargain with Rusley had been firmly kept. Every morning going up or in the evening coming home the little one was inseparable from Vincy. Rusley, you have enough pipes now, said Vincy one day while he was wandering home with his little comrade behind the cows. He had just delivered his daily pipe and added, in all this time you should have learned not to tickle the cows, Rusley, without always expecting a reward. And so I have, Rusley agreed, because I have so much to do nowadays. Vincy could not help wondering at Rusley's quick response. In fact, all the little boys' mischievous deeds had really come only from idleness. What keeps you so busy, asked Vincy. I'll show it to you, but no one else must know about it, replied Rusley mysteriously. He led Vincy away from the road to the old larch trees, where the two used to sit in the old days when Vincy had made his first pipes. Tell me something, Rusley, Vincy began again. Did you put all your pipes in a pile together, or did you give them to the boys who had none? So many have good pipes now, and not the kind they used to make themselves. I don't ever give away my beautiful pipes, replied Rusley, quite hurt at a supposition throwing doubt on the sensibleness of his actions. Come, you can see for yourself. They were standing at the exact place where Vincy used to sit on a high mossy place beside the fragrant violets. Stooping down, Rusley picked up several pieces of moss-covered earth, which lay there cleverly joined together. He put them aside and shoveled away the loose earth underneath with both hands, disclosing a rather large hole. After lifting out a strong folded paper serving as cover, Rusley asked his companion to look in. To his intense surprise, Vincy saw a collection of most varied objects, piles of nuts and dried prunes, matchboxes, colored marbles, old knives and tobacco boxes, a little pump, a leather purse, and a watch chain of brass. What is this, Rusley? To whom do all these things belong? Asked Vincy truly astonished. They all belong to me. I traded one of these things for every pipe you gave me. Do you see now? asked Rusley proudly glancing at his storehouse. But what are you going to do with them all? Vincy inquired, still puzzled. I'll keep them, and then I'll trade them again for something better. You see, the pipes are only common wood, after all, Rusley said confidentially. Vincy had to laugh. You must become a tradesman, Rusley, for you seem to understand all about it, but you won't have anything more to do now since our bargain is off. Oh yes, I'll have just as much work as ever. I first uncover my hole every morning, dig away the earth, and count everything to see if anything has been stolen in the night. Then I have to pack and cover them up, and put on the moss in such a way that no one can find the place. In the afternoon I have to sit on the lookout so that no one finds my cave and takes my things. Vincy could not comprehend these watchful exertions on behalf of such treasure, for he totally lacked the tradesman's spirit. He was glad, however, that this new activity kept the little fellow busy. He was convinced that he would leave the cows in peace now, even without his usual reward. The month of August had passed, and the first fog was drifting over the mountains. Several times messages had been brought up from Luke to say that the time was drawing near for Vincy to come home. The boy's parents felt that they had taken advantage of their relatives' kindness long enough, and they begged their cousin to take the next opportunity of sending the boy home with someone. Word had always been sent back to Luke to the effect that the summer was not over, and that no one wanted to let Vincy go. Furthermore he was so well and happy that the parents might let him prolong his stay on the mountain. Father Lorenz was just entering the room where his wife was preparing the evening meal with her accustomed come. He sat down on a chair, for no special work had to be done till the boys returned with the cattle, and after a moment's thought said, Have you noticed how much Vincy has changed lately? In what way? asked his wife. He seemed suddenly to have grown a whole year or two older, said Lorenz, ever since he began to spend most of his time with Peter Sylvainus. I notice it in the way he plays his pipe, and the way he sings and talks. It is as if the boy had been transplanted from the shadow into the sunshine. Everything in him seems to have blossomed out suddenly. I don't quite understand what you mean, replied the woman, but I always said that Vincy looks as fresh and neat as a young apple tree in bloom. And I say another thing besides, if Vincy were a beggar boy, I'd adopt him right away, and I'd love him just as much as my own boys. I can say that, and I'll stick to it. Well, so you can, said the man with a smile. But do you know, if Vincy had been a vagamond without the kind of mother they say he has, he would never have been the same. He belongs to a well brought up family, and comes from parents who look after their children. That's the reason why he is so nice. Heavy steps approached the door at that moment. Clearly not the pattering the boys usually made, which was always accompanied with loud yodels and cries. Who is outside? asked Lorenz, opening the door. A well-knit man whom he knew as a fruit merchant from Luke stood outside. Lorenz immediately offered him his hand. I haven't seen you for a long time, Lessa. How are things with you? I come with a message from your cousin down there, and he sends you his love, said the man hardly, shaking Lorenz by the hand. The latter was a little startled because he felt sure that the visit had been made on Vincy's behalf. The man had often traveled over the mountain before, and had practically never come to see him. He invited him to step inside and make himself at home. But this could not be done as the merchant had a wagon and two pairs of lively horses waiting for him. He only wanted to deliver his message from Vincy's Lessa, who had only heard yesterday that a team was going across the mountain. He had therefore not had time to write a letter. The farmer had been anxious to use this good opportunity of having his boy brought home. All the fruit dealer added was that he expected to return in two days when his business was done and take the boy along. Lorenz took the matter so much to heart that he could say nothing. He saw that Vincy must leave in two days. I'll be here on Tuesday at eight in the morning, Lessa, concluded the man, casting a questioning look at the silent farmer. I suppose you understand me. Oh yes, only too well, replied the other. The boy will be ready for you in time. You can count on that. He followed the man to the road, where stood a great wagon loaded with sacks and harnessed to four strong horses. Just as the big team drove off with loud tinkling of bells, the boys came down singing and shouting with the cattle. Lorenz walked towards them with a heavy heart. Should he give his merry boys the unwelcome news at once? Then all their happiness would vanish at once. Lorenz had a soft heart and found himself unable to do it. Greeting the boys in a carefree manner, he let everything go its accustomed round. After supper the singing began as usual, and they sang one song after another, as had grown to be the custom of the house. They sang as merrily as Larkson's spring, only the father could not quite join in heartily, for a heavy load was on his heart. He realized that he must tell them that evening, as the time was already so short. Just after the mother had said the customary words, I suppose we have to stop now. Nine o'clock is struck. He made his announcement in a few clear words. Quite thunderstruck. Everyone sat silent with surprise and sorrow. The mother was the first to regain her speech. Well, I hope you said that it was out of the question, and that we cannot give up the boy at such short notice. She said with an animation not usual to her. I'd like to know what he means in coming here and trying to rob us of the boy without the slightest ceremony, the way one might pull off a branch from a hedge. I hope you gave him a proper talking to. The man has not come to do us harm, Lorenz said calmly. You mustn't forget that Vinzy's parents can call him home whenever they please. Won't you allow them some interest in the boy? Besides, no one can deny that the opportunity is splendid. By this time the boys also had regained control of their emotions, and lost no time in giving vent to such outcries and objections that the father suggested they all go to bed. Often good ideas had come overnight during sleep, he said, and these words proved to have an excellent effect. Each boy thought that a good idea might come to him which might prevent Vinzy's departure. The mother was hoping that the father would find some obstacle to the journey, for all his best ideas always came overnight. But by saying that the best thoughts come overnight the father had meant to say that they would in time realize that they would have to bear the inevitable. Vinzy had not said a word. When he sat on his threshold later on, looking up at the stars, he was conscious of a deep inner conflict. He looked forward to seeing his mother and Stafeli again, yes, and his father too. Maybe the latter would be kind to him now, as he used to be in the old days Vinzy remembered so well. When he would let the boy ride on his knees and would say to him, just ride ahead Vinzy, as soon as you can ride you shall have a horse. Vinzy could not quite remember when his father had begun to treat him less kindly. He hardly even knew the reason why. On the other hand was the full realization that all his marvelous life on the mountain with these kind people had come to an end. Yes, and the music, all the music too. There was no one who would be able to help him at home, no one. Should the whole thing really be over for good and all? His heart contracted painfully at this thought, but the next moment he found joy again in the happy anticipation of going home and seeing his loved ones. Even if the music must stop when he got home, he would not entirely lose his good teacher, Peter Sylvainas, as consolation remained the hope that he would probably return some day, and this thought was his last comfort before he went to sleep. In the morning there was no time for talk and arguments, for they had to make an early start. Yos and Fazz were wandering off with the cows, and Vinzy was just following with Rusli when Uncle Lorenz drew Vinzy to one side and said in a low voice, It can't be helped, Vinzy, and I am sure you'll be glad to go home. I especially wanted to tell you so you can take leave of Peter Sylvainas and the grandfather. It's your last day, for the wagon will come for you tomorrow at eight. This settled it for good. Vinzy went away silently, which was far from pleasing Rusli. You ought to talk to me, he said a little crossly after they had gone quite a distance. I can't talk well today. Something seems to choke me, replied Vinzy. But don't be unhappy. As soon as I get home I'll send you something for your collection. You don't need to go home at all, Rusli said with firm conviction. Fazz has thought out something to stop your going. He told Yos about it at the pump. He is going on the street tomorrow morning to wait for the wagon, and as soon as it stops he means to climb up and say that he is the boy from Luke. Then the man will drive off, and only when they come to the other side of the mountain will Fazz jump down and say that he is not the right boy after all. Then he'll run back. Do you see now? The man can't do anything then, for it will be too far for him to turn back. Vinzy was not convinced that his trip could be prevented that way, but he felt quite touched that Fazz was so anxious to keep him. He really had seen the least of Fazz. What are you going to send me for my collection? Rusli inquired. I don't want to tell you, replied Vinzy. If it is a surprise you'll like it so much better. Is it something to eat? Rusli asked nevertheless. No, and not anything to drink either, said Vinzy. But I won't tell you anything more about it, or it won't be a surprise. After taking leave of Rusli at the pasture, Vinzy went up to the convent as usual. He had been told always to go straight to the large room and wait for Pater Sylvainus there. This was usually only a short time, but when the Pater entered today, Vinzy did not stand in his usual mood of happy anticipation at the harmonium, and his eyes did not glisten. On the contrary, he came up to the monk quite crushed, and after a questioning look sadly informed him that this was to be the last lesson, as he was going home tomorrow. Oh, what a shame! What a shame! said Pater Sylvainus slowly. But won't you be able to keep up your music at home? Vinzy fought as well as he could to keep back the tears of this question. Despite his downcast eyes, his teacher saw that he had not been able to restrain them as he answered. No, I don't think so. Courage, boy! said Pater Sylvainus, kindly patting him on the shoulder. Keep up your spirits! It is always lovely to go home again, and if God finds that music is the right thing for you, it is easy enough for him to send someone into your path who will help you further. Besides, you are sure to come up to us again, and as soon as you do, we'll take it up again. The monk had seized Vinzy's hand in a fatherly way and led him out. In the doorway he gave the boy his blessing, and hardly said, God protect you, after which he took leave of his pupil. The boy had barely been able to mumble his thanks, for the tears were choking him. He felt intensely grateful that the teacher had made the leaf-taking so short, because he could not possibly have controlled himself any longer. Vinzy went toward the place where the dark roses had bloomed. The bushes were still green, but few roses remained. He gazed about him once more. The sun had just parted the fog, and all about him began to gleam. The snow peaks, the mountain streams, the walls of rock, and above all the deep blue sky. He was glad to see it once more. He next ran to the tower where the grandfather occupied his accustomed seat in the sunshine. You come early today. That is right, he greeted the approaching figure. But what is wrong, boy? What is the matter? He added as soon as Vinzy stood before him. That certainly will make us all sad, he replied, when Vinzy had informed him of the reason for his early visit. Do you know, boy, my hope has been all along that you would come and sing me my song in case I should die. But I might still be here next summer, so let us hope that you'll be here again, too. We'll part with that thought now. The grandfather hardly shook Vinzy's hand, as he was unwilling to detain him longer. His relatives probably expected him home soon, as it was his last day with him. Vinzy hurried straight home, for the grandfather probably was right. His aunt Yosefa, who had meanwhile come to the conclusion that Vinzy's departure could not be prevented, rejoiced when she saw him coming. She could now talk quietly to him a bit. The suddenness of it all had destroyed her accustomed calm, and she had longed to see him. Aunt Yosefa and Vinzy again sat together, as on the day of his arrival. Her happy frame of mind was fully restored when Vinzy assured her that he had no better wish than to come back to the mountain again another year. He hoped that he might be one of her household again, and sleep in his lovely fragrant chamber. When the family sat together in the evening, Father Lorenz said, Come now, singing is the best remedy against sad thoughts. He began a song himself. The others, joining in, kept it up right through the evening. Next day Faz's plan did not succeed. Just as the brothers were ready to depart and were taking leave from Vinzy, they heard the repeated sounds of a whip. This warned Father Lorenz that the fruit dealer had arrived even earlier than he had said. As he could not leave his horses, he wanted to notify them of his coming and looking at the road a few steps away from the house, he saw that his signal had been understood. The whole family, including even the inmates of the stable, strolled over to the street and the fruit dealer could not help wondering at the strange procession. Vinzy climbed up to his high seat, and after he had taken leave of each separately, the horses started off. All five gazed after Vinzy with genuine grief, and Rus' the alone felt slightly consoled by the thought of the promised surprise. When the wagon passed the spot where the tower stood in the meadow, the whole edge of the road was peopled with a crowd of noisy boys, more and more seemed to gather, and finally they thundered a loud hurrah and cried, Come again! Which was repeated a second time in such a noisy way that the four horses actually reared. Black Varelli had been the instigator of this, and at the last greeting of the tower boys, his voice could be distinctly heard above all others. At his bench alone sat the grandfather waving his hat high in the air, and Vinzy replied by swinging his cap. In the convent a window opened and a hand kindly waved good-bye to Vinzy. It was that of Peter Sylvainus. After a short upward stretch by wild mountain beaches and old gnarled fir trees, the drive quickly went downwards into the valley. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of Vinzy A Story of the Swiss Alps by Johanna Speery Translated by Elizabeth P. Stork This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Anita Sloma-Martinez Chapter 8 Unexpected Happenings Stiffelli's summer after Vinzy's departure had passed much more pleasantly than she could have foreseen. This was due to Mr. Delrick, who never started off on a long walk without calling into the room and asking, Can Stiffelli come with me? As the child had given up her life on the pasture since Vinzy had gone away, the mother always welcomed this opportunity of sending her out. Stiffelli had really been obliged to sit at home a great deal, and the poor child could not help fretting and sighing. Every time she heard that question, she gladly tossed the horrid long stocking aside and skipped out into the sunshine. There was no end to all the things Stiffelli discussed with her companion. He was always interested in whatever she told him about herself and Vinzy, their life at home and on the pasture. He heard about the music lessons and the strange consequences they had brought, also how the members of the household differed on certain subjects. In this way Mr. Delrick acquired a minute knowledge of the happenings in the Lessa household. But he became intimate with the three members of the family in other ways besides. Vincent's Lessa liked to spend his free evenings on the bench before his house. Here the walnut tree wafted to him the perfume of its fragrant leaves. When he smoked his pipe he was always glad if Mr. Delrick came to talk to him, for the farmer loved to discuss the affairs of the world. Mr. Delrick, who had a wide knowledge, could explain many things that were not quite clear to him, and also showed a lively interest in everything connected with agriculture. They discussed the problems of the farm together, and even when Mr. Lessa was the instructor, Mr. Delrick's suggestions proved very useful. Many changes and improvements were made on the place in consequence. Mr. Delrick's conversation with Mrs. Lessa was very different. It always drifted to the same subject, even if they had begun to talk of something else. This absorbing subject was Vinzy. The mother had told Mr. Delrick of Vinzy's intense love of music from the time he had been a little lad, and how the father's whole ambition was centered on bringing him up as a successful farmer. The father's pride and joy consisted in the work he was doing, and he naturally expected the boy to look after the property some day. This conflict filled her with deep anxiety. She saw no way out of the difficult situation, and was constantly anticipating some great sorrow as the final outcome. Mr. Delrick was filled with sympathetic interest and tried to allay her anxiety. He comforted her by saying that young boys often put aside such fancies, especially when a smiling future lay before them, as was the case with Vinzy. Her troublesome thoughts kept on recurring nevertheless, and it was hard for the mother to anticipate the future calmly. His sympathetic words seemed to ease her heart, however, and therefore he regularly led back to their usual subject of conversation. In this way Mr. Delrick had succeeded in becoming the special friend and confidant of every member of the little household. Whenever a question came up which was hard to solve, Stefali, as well as her father and mother, said right away, we must ask Mr. Delrick, he'll know, or when something was worrying them, if we ask Mr. Delrick, he'll tell us what to do. When the good news was brought from the mountain that Vinzy was loved there by old and young, and had grown so merry that everybody else had grown still more so, Mr. Delrick took us lively in interest in the news as if he were a member of the family too. The mother remained rather quiet, but he, as well as the father, could not help hoping that the lad had at last found satisfaction in his work. He looked forward, therefore, to the happy reunion of the little family in which he had grown so intimate before he left them. The day came when Father Lessa had given his wife in the presence of Mr. Delrick the news of Vinzy's homecoming in five days. Meeting an old acquaintance who was driving across the mountains, he had made use of the opportunity to ask him to bring his boy home. This the man had promised to do. The mother's heart beat with joyous anticipation and Stefali, in her excitement, could not sit still any longer but flew restlessly here and there in the most aimless fashion. She felt as if she could not possibly live through those days. She constantly counted the hours. If a day had twenty-four hours, five days had five times as many. Oh, that made a dreadful lot of hours. But she had reckoned the hours when she was asleep, and luckily one did not feel those. So the counting had to begin anew. Strangely enough the fifth day had come at last, and much sooner than she had dared to hope. Stefali had returned from a stroll with Mr. Delrick, just as her father had come in from the field. Vinzy may come any moment now, he said to the mother. Let's have supper so he can sit right down with us. Mr. Delrick was called and they began to eat. Stefali could scarcely swallow from nervousness, and the mother too could not disguise her agitation. Here he comes, suddenly cried the child, as she bound it away. None of the others had heard anything, but a few moments later Stefali entered the room, triumphantly holding Vinzy's hand. The joy of the parents that their son's return was not noisy, but it could not be doubted. Vinzen's luscious look betokened real pride when he led the boy up to Mr. Delrick. The latter gazed at him keenly, for his thoughts had long been busy with him. He did not need to wonder when he saw the splendid lad who had so completely won his mother's heart, and upon whom his father had built his hopes. Everybody sat down, and Vinzy was asked to tell about his relatives. He grew constantly more lively and could not say enough of their kindness to him. When the father wished to know how the pastor up there had pleased him, Vinzy in blissful remembrance described the mountain pasture to them. The violets up there filled the air with fragrance, and the high larches spread their wide branches over the moss-covered stones. The cows grazed quietly between the trees, so that their bells resounded far and wide like a song of peace. The mother asked if beautiful flowers grew on the pasture. Here Vinzy grew still more enthusiastic, and told them about the red field of roses which gleamed in the sunshine and from below made the whole mountain look like fire. Vinzy also spoke of his sleeping room, and how he had loved to have his own little house which was filled with the delicious fragrance of hay. Father and mother looked quite amazed at their son. Never before had he spoken with such surety and animation, and both had the same impression. They said to themselves that Vinzy was not the boy who had left them. The father added to himself, he has matured up there, that is good, for he'll know now what he wants. And the mother thought, new life has sprung up within him. I wonder what will be the outcome. Next mornings Tafeli was on her feet especially early, for the joy of having Vinzy with her again had not let her sleep any longer. She had wanted to knock on his door in order to keep him from oversleeping. Now everything would have to go back to the old order, and they would be able to go together to the pasture, as of yore, something she had a tremendous longing for. Just as she put her finger to the door, Vinzy opened it and came out completely dressed. Tafeli drew back amazed. But you get up dreadfully early, she exclaimed. You never used to do that, Vinzy. That's why I wanted to call you. Now you see that I can do it too, Vinzy said, laughing at her surprise. On the mountain I always got up early. When one impatiently looks forward to something pleasant, sleep goes off easily. One can jump out of bed then. You see, I have still the habit. What was it that made you so happy? What did you look forward to every day? Asked Tafeli surprised. Come, I'll tell you, said Vinzy, going downstairs. Under the open door stood the father, taking a look at the weather. He too had only just come out of his bedroom. He turned around. What, you up already? He said astonished. That's a good sign. You learned something worthwhile up there, Vinzy, for you did not use to be the first in the morning. Come and walk over to our walnut trees, till your mother calls us to breakfast. Don't you think our trees are fine, and the grass about them too? I hope you have learned to see that it is not quite so bad here at home. It is beautiful here, isn't it? Oh yes, assented Vinzy from the bottom of his heart, looking up to the rich foliage of the walnut trees, under whose shade he had spent so many happy hours. I suppose you found out up there how fine the life of a farmer really is. If you have done so, you'll realize now how beautiful our place is. You could not possibly have a better prospect than to own and cultivate such a fine farm. Don't you agree with me that it is the best anybody could hope for? I know something I'd like much better, replied Vinzy with hesitation. Then he was silent. In surprise the farmer gazed at his son. Listen to me, Vinzy. I don't mind if you enjoyed the mountains so much, and I won't say a word against it. Only I don't understand what you should have found up there better than we have. What is it? Tell me. Oh, the most beautiful thing I know is Peter Sylvain's harmonium in the hospice. My dearest wish would be to learn to play it as well as he does, answered Vinzy. Vinzen's Lessa directed a searching glance at his son. After a pause he said, Do you mean that seriously, Vinzy? Or is it meant to be a joke? Oh, no, I mean it, answered Vinzy. So said the father abruptly. Now I'll tell you something too, for you ought to know what I think. I sent you away because I wanted you to learn all about farming in company with those jolly boys. You simply have to learn to enjoy it sooner or later. I thought that your eyes had been opened, and you had matured and come back more sensible. Now I find you just as childish as when you started, with nothing in your head but nonsense and foolish music. But I'll find other ways and means to teach you sense. After all, there must be some way for a person to see how lucky he is. I should never have thought that you could have started such rubbish up there too. Well, that settles it. You shall never go back. I'll still find a way. Vinzy had listened calmly to everything the father had said, but the last words seemed to crush him like a thunderbolt. The moment his father turned and went towards the house, he threw himself on the ground. By pressing his face into the grass, he tried to stifle his violent sobs. He had secretly feared that his father would not want to hear anything about his longing to study music, and he had not dared to have any hope in that respect. All his finest anticipations, however, had been built upon returning to the mountain. Everything was now at an end, and the terrible words, You shall never go back, resound it over and over again. Vinzy, you are too, cried Stifeli now, but she stopped suddenly and ran over to him. What is it, Vinzy? She asked, terribly frightened on hearing his sobs and groans. But the boy could give her no reply. I am sure you have to come, Stifeli said timidly. If you could only stop, Vinzy, you must come to breakfast, for father is already sitting down, and mother sent me for you. Vinzy jumped up and ran to the pump. By washing his eyes over and over again, he hoped to remove the traces of his tears. It doesn't matter, just come now, Stifeli urged. Mr. Delrick never comes down to breakfast, father doesn't pay attention, and mother won't say anything. Please come now. As the two entered, the father threw a sharp glance at Vinzy, who took his seat with a drooping head. Vinzenz Lessa pushed his half emptied cup from him, and rising went quickly out. He could not stand the sight of tears, least of all from his boy, who is more precious to him than his estate. The mother gazed after him, surprised. What is the matter with father? He didn't even empty his cup. She said, glancing at Vinzy, who just then raised his eyes. But for heaven's sakes, Vinzy, what is wrong with you? She cried, much more concerned still. Your eyes are swollen and red. What has happened? Vinzy wanted to say something, but could not utter a sound. Laying his head upon his arm, he burst out crying. The mother's face expressed the greatest anxiety as she looked at him. Stifeli quickly swallowed her milk, then ran outside. If only Mr. Delrick would come, she sighed. Stifeli had noticed that whenever her parents sought his advice, affairs were usually straightened out, so she was most anxious to find him now. Mr. Delrick had just left his room and was that moment coming downstairs. Already to start, he asked kindly when Stifeli bounded to him and gave in her hand. Will you take a morning walk with me? Stifeli had hoped for this, and willingly started on her way with her desired companion. He soon heard what lay heavily on her heart, how Vinzy had read in swollen eyes from crying and the father had pushed away his cup of coffee before finishing it and had quickly gone out, also how terribly sad the mother looked, more sad than she had ever seen her. But I am sure you can help us, Stifeli concluded, with firm conviction. I'll do what I can, Mr. Delrick promised, smilingly. But the child's words had made him very thoughtful. He seriously wondered if the mother's sad supposition would be realized now. The thought worried him the more, as he had fixed upon his departure within the next few days, having planned to meet a friend at the Italian lakes. When the two returned from their walk, matters had not improved. Vinzy had finally told his mother the words that had crushed him so completely. He thought that everything now was over, but his mother comforted him by saying that the father's words were probably not final. If only Vinzy tried hard to stick to his work and did everything to please his father, showing in that way that he really cared for what he wanted of him, the time would surely come when he would be allowed to go back to his friends. But Vinzy shook his head. Father won't ever let me go back there, for he said that I was finding pleasure in something he does not want me to do, and it's true. I understand now what he means, and I never quite knew before. To this the mother said nothing, for she could not help feeling that Vinzy was right. Would the boy be sent away again, and where? Her husband had another relative, an older brother, with whom he used to manage their property in Freiberg, till their old cousin in Luke had died. Her husband had taken charge of it as they had inherited it together. He had felt that, as the beautiful place was so badly run down, it was better to look after it himself for a number of years if he wanted to bring it up again. Her husband's brother was as silent and unsociable as the old cousin who used to live here had been, and he also looked quite as unkempt. Vinzen's Lessa had left a hired man on the farm who looked after things. His brother never wanted to undertake anything new, and only hoped that Vinzen's Lessa would soon return. Mrs. Lessa knew that there had been rather odd members in the Lessa family from time to time, and suddenly a new anxiety rose in her heart. If the father should really decide to send Vinzy to his father's old farm in order to teach him interest in farm work, he naturally would find no other distractions there. Mightn't the boy, who had always been different from other children, become more peculiar? He might, in the exclusive company of his uncle, get rather odd in his ways. People had told her that the old man who used to live in Luke would sit by the hour before his barn, staring straight in front of him. People used to call him Steri from Luke. Their brother in Freiberg was supposed to do the same. Such names easily become current. And as everyone knew where the Lessa family originally came from, he, too, was called by the people the Steri of Luke. When Mrs. Lessa's thoughts had traveled thus far, she felt still more worried. The father's chief cause of complaint against the boy was that he always stared into the distance, not seeing and hearing what went on before his eyes. Would it be possible that her lively, splendid Vinzy should turn into the third Steri of Luke? Mrs. Lessa was suddenly roused from her disturbing thoughts by Stafelli's entrance. The child told her that Mr. Delric had already come back from his walk, and was sitting in Vinzy's room talking to the boy. Quickly she set about preparing his breakfast, for as he had come back so much earlier than usual, she was not yet ready for him. Mr. Delric knew about Vinzy's keen passion for music as well as the father's wishes and desires for his son's future, with the original cause of Vinzy's stay on the mountain. But he had not understood from Stafelli's words what had brought on Vinzy's tears and the father's anger so soon after the boy's happy return. As he took the greatest interest in the wheel and woe of the Lessa family, he wished to know if he could not help them somehow. His stay in the house was to be a very short duration. That was why he had come back so soon from his stroll. He had gone to the darkly brooding Vinzy, and informed him that he was planning to go to the Italian Lakes, and in two days would travel across the Simplon. If Vinzy had any messages for friends there, he would be glad to deliver them as he expected to spend the night there. For a moment, a ray of sunshine flitted over Vinzy's face. Are you also going to see Peter Sylvainus and the grandfather? He asked with burning eagerness. I don't know who they are, replied Mr. Delrick, but tell me about all your friends there and what happened to you on the mountain. Then you can tell me what messages I am to take to them. To be able to speak about things which were in his inmost thoughts poured bomb on Vinzy's aching heart. Mr. Delrick's deep sympathy and understanding of his joy in his music studies with Peter Sylvainus made it possible for him to tell about everything that had made him so happy on the mountain. He was willing enough to do whatever work he was set to do, Vinzy concluded, but the idea of never playing any more or hearing more music was too dreadful. He had till now always had the hope that he could spend next summer on the mountain and could then continue his lessons with Peter Sylvainus. But today his father had definitely told him that he was never to go back. The matter began to grow clearer to Mr. Delrick. Tell me, Vinzy, he said, after a pause. Did the painter urge you to keep up your music at home or did he only mean to take it up again when you went back to him? Vinzy reported the painter's injunction, also his own reply, telling how impossible this was on account of his father's objection to it. Would you like to learn an instrument in order to give yourself pleasure by playing, Vinzy? said Mr. Delrick. Did you ever think of making music your whole and only life's work? I suppose you could not even imagine that. Vinzy's eyes flamed. Oh yes, I could, and I thought about it long ago when I was on the mountain. I could imagine well how it would be, Vinzy assured him. I don't only want to study an instrument but to learn everything about music. Pater Sylvainus knows everything and can explain how to put the tones together in order to make harmonious music. Also how to write down melodies one has in one's head so people can read it again from a sheet. He had already begun to explain it all and teach me how to do it. It was so wonderful. I wouldn't mind shoveling snow all day and working hard the way they have to do up there in winter if only I could spend the evenings with Pater Sylvainus for he said he would keep on teaching me. Now I'll never be allowed to go up the mountain anymore. Never. It was hard for Vinzy to suppress his newly rising grief. You see, Vinzy, Mr. Delrick said kindly, your father wants you to be happy. You know that yourself and I can absolutely assure you of it. He said the words you worry about so much because he thinks that your life on the mountain might interfere with your future happiness. Time may bring many changes and therefore it is possible that he won't have to keep his word. It is entirely wrong though for you to keep on repeating these words to yourself for they only make you sad and take all your spirit away. Did you not find joy and happiness where you expected unhappiness? Remember that, Vinzy, and keep up your courage. The mother had entered meanwhile and after setting the breakfast on the table had immediately vanished. It had calmed her to hear how Mr. Delrick was speaking to her boy and how attentively the latter was listening. Now Vinzy said Mr. Delrick rising, pull yourself together and be glad that you are home again. Show your father a pleasant face when he comes home and if you are willing to do what he tells you to everything may still come right. Will you promise me to think about what I have just now said? This Vinzy gladly did and when the mother entered a little later after Mr. Delrick had gone out his eyes already were somewhat clearer. The day went quietly by. All the inmates of the house feeling that the happiness of the evening before had vanished could not help being depressed. When the day was over and Vincennes Lessa had settled as usual on his bench his forehead lay in deep furrows. Staring at the ground he even let his pipe go out. Mr. Delrick now stepped up to him. Mr. Lessa he said, striking a match and offering the light to his host you are not in a good humor or you would not let your pipe go out. Here light it again. Humor you say humor Lessa repeated grimly. If one's field is spoiled by hail one can always hope that it will bring good fruit next year. But when a man's only son goes from bad to worse no hope is left him. From worse he can only go to worst and then I suppose he can't go any further. As far as I can judge you have a very upright well mannered sons and Mr. Delrick deliberately. Yes he is I don't complain of that retorted Lessa. It's something else. What help is there when everything has been done to make him happy and he does not see it or know what is best for him. He only hankers after childish rubbish. I won't give in till he comes to reason even if I should have to send him across the ocean. I know of a place though which is quite near where he couldn't find any chance to keep up his foolish fancies. I suppose you mean by that your son's passion for music and his desire to devote himself to it. There might be more in it than foolish fancies though. It might be very serious on his parts and Mr. Delrick. Something serious in it replied the father in agitation. It is just play like any other. I have nothing against it if young boys sing jolly songs in the evenings but that is not the way he does. He sits in stairs and neither sees nor hears anything but thinks about his foolish piping. Once I found a whole heap of pipes he had carved how could that be other than childish rubbish and the idea of putting your thoughts on such a thing. That shows that there is something serious in it answered Mr. Delrick. If it were only play like any other he would have exchanged it for something else long ago. The way boys are apt to do. His whole thinking and wishing then would not always go to the same object. His persistence in trying to make a better instrument for himself shows how great his zeal for the matter really is. I am perfectly convinced that it is not play but serious work with him. Work. The idea of calling that work. To express his indignation Vincennes Lessa blew unusually thick clouds of smoke from his pipe. Music certainly can be work and where there is real talent it can be a splendid career Mr. Delrick continued. I think you ought to let your son learn an instrument. His longing for it is so great that he would gladly do the heaviest work to have this wish gratified. Vincennes Lessa put by his pipe which was a sure sign of intense excitement. Sir he said with suppressed anger Vincennes Lessa's only son shall not be a musician. He has an estate on which he can live like a gentleman. If he wants to blow a trumpet later on he can well afford to but it is quite another matter to take a boy away from a healthy sound work and bring him up to playing instruments and making music. He has no sense yet and would probably come to me and say what you have just told me that he wants to make music his career. No sir Vincennes Lessa's son is not going to be a traveling musician. All musicians do not necessarily have to be vagabonds was Mr. Delrick's quick reply. There are many musicians with glorious gifts who do their work quite differently. Yes and they all come to one's house continued the excited father. Many hundreds of them they all make music. The father plays on a broken fiddle and a woman in rags sings with a shrill voice. That's the end of all of them. If you had an only son sir would you let him become such a one. Surely not one like that replied Mr. Delrick. But if I should happen to have a son with great gifts as a composer nothing would prevent me from furthering his wishes. My boy has not got great gifts said the father obstinately. Because such great gifts don't happen often. Will you believe me when I say that as soon as Vincennes comes to reason he'll be glad and grateful that he can live on a beautiful farm and doesn't have to wander about the world as a musician. Mr. Delrick had to admit to himself that he really did not know how much talent Vincennes had. All he knew was the boy's great longing. He also felt that Mr. Lessa's opinion about a musician's miserable life could not possibly be changed. He had puzzled how he could be certain on that point. How otherwise would he have the right to fight the father's great disinclination. Maybe he should rather support the father's opinion and help to bring his son to the right path. Mr. Lessa he said rising and giving his hand to his host. Don't let us talk about it any more today. For we don't seem to come to an understanding, but I mean to take it up again, and I hope we shall fully agree with each other then. We have always gotten along so well till now. So we have, replied Vincennes Lessa, shaking the proffered hand. Whenever we don't agree, I always know that you mean well. Mr. Delrick now made ready to go. On the next day, the last before his departure, the whole house was as still and quiet as if a misfortune were impending. To the unhappy thoughts of the inmates was added the grief that the friend who had always been their comfort was to leave them. Stafelli had expected everything to be joyful again as soon as Vinzi returned. Just the opposite had happened, and now the only one who could have helped them was going away. On the last evening Mr. Delrick told the mother of his conversation with Mr. Lessa, and comforted her by the assurance that he had not given up the hope of finding a way out for Vinzi, but she had given up, and saw only grief ahead for them all. Even if her husband would give way to the persuasions of Mr. Delrick, he would never be reconciled to the matter, and a breach would remain between them. Only one person could have prevented that, and he was the one who had to go. Vinzi felt that if he could talk sometimes with Mr. Delrick, he might regain his joy and confidence. His heart was therefore very heavy at his friend's departure. Mr. Lessa had the full conviction that his wife and son did not understand what was necessary for Vinzi's good. The only person who would probably comprehend it at last and would then bring the others round was departing. Mr. Delrick, in spite of speaking a kindly word to one and an encouraging one to the other, was unable to lift their spirits. In the evening, when he had withdrawn to his room, someone knocked on his door, and Vinzi entered, carrying two little books and a small package. He asked timidly if Mr. Delrick would take these things to his three cousins. The package he had promised to send to Rusli before he left. The books were for Yos and Faz, for the boys had told him that they liked to read on winter evenings. As they possessed so few books, they were obliged to read the same ones over and over again. Vinzi also wished to send his best love to everybody in his uncle's house, as well as to the grandfather and Peter's sylvanus. He was anxious to thank them all, and let them know how happy he had been with them, and how much he wanted but here Vinzi could speak no further, quickly saying good-bye he went out. Mr. Delrick had planned to go back from the Italian lakes to Germany by another route. He hoped to return next summer, at which the whole family rejoiced. Stefali, however, thought that this was too far off. Early next morning he drove away in the direction of the simplon. CHAPTER IX SURPRISES, BUT NOT ONLY FOR RUSLI During the months of September and October, Vincenzo Lessa was always very busy. He usually went about in excellent spirits, as he had good reason to rejoice over the blessings of his harvest. But this fall he was often silent, and could be seen standing still, staring in front of him absent-mindedly. Apparently his thoughts were busy with something which worried him. His son's future occupied him day and night, and left him no peace, for he loved Vinzi dearly and was as proud of him as only a father can be. Everyone was fond of Vinzi, but he wished him to realize his fortunate prospects. Thousands would envy him the smooth care-free life which lay before him. All he needed was to have his eyes opened. Vincenzo Lessa, after pondering deeply for a long, long while, finally reached a conclusion. One day he entered the living-room and found his wife busy mending his old coat. Needless to say, her thoughts were also busy with the same problem constantly occupying them both. I am going to take the boy away on Sunday, he said upon entering. I'll take him to my brother in Freiburg, who will be only too glad to get Vinzi. There is always lots of work till wintertime. Vinzi can't count on many distractions there, so it will be good for him if he has plenty to do. Mrs. Lessa's work slipped out of her hands. Pale with dread she gazed at her husband. Have you thought about the condition your brother is in, Vincenzo? Do you remember what name they call him by? She asked, dreadfully frightened. In her mind's eye she saw Vinzi before her, staring in front of him as he was want to do, and her brother-in-law's pathetic figure right beside him. That does not matter, answered her husband. My brother is not vicious, he only hates giving orders. He does not like to work, but his mind is quite clear enough to know that the place needs a master besides a servant. That is why he wants me to come back or send him my boy. Vinzi is not stupid. As soon as he sees that he can give orders, he'll get a liking for it, which is the first step to knowledge. It is the best way out for him, believe me. I have thought it out, and I mean to go on Sunday. Mrs. Lessa wished to raise other objections, but everything she said seemed only to confirm her husband's statement that he had found the right place for Vinzi, so she remained silent. When her husband had gone and she was left alone with her own thoughts, she remembered her great grief when Vinzi had been sent away before, how differently things had gone with him from what she had feared. She had really been ungrateful to God, for he had brought her lad to kindly people. Why should she begin to worry and doubt again, as if she knew better what was good for Vinzi? She would put everything into his hands with the confidence that the good father in heaven meant well with all his children, and would lead hers also to final happiness. This thought calmed her. She decided to talk it all over with Vinzi, who has yet knew nothing of his near departure. She found it better to prepare him by telling him about the farm of his ancestors. Then he would understand that he was sent away because someone was needed on the place. That evening, when she heard Vinzi coming home, she called him in. He had been out in the woods all day with his father. As the father had worked to do in the barn and stable, he would not miss the boy. Stefeli, who ran in at once, was sent off unerrant to the barn in the hope that she would probably remain a considerable time with her old friends in this stable. But Stefeli had noticed that the mother had something special in mind regarding Vinzi, and as she wanted to hear it all, she returned in a twinkling. The mother, however, was not desirous of her presence. Go over to the barnyard, she said, and look for eggs in every nook and corner. You know that the chickens lay them sometimes where one least suspects them. Bring them here afterwards, but be sure to look everywhere. Stefeli ran as fast as she could go, but she had barely left the house when she came running back. Flinging open the door, she cried, He is coming back! He is coming back! The next moment she was gone again. The mother and Vinzi looked at each other. The same thought had flashed through their heads, but it seemed so impossible that they did not dare to mention it. The door opened again, and what they had thought impossible really had come to pass. Stefeli triumphantly entered at the side of Mr. Delric, whose hand she was holding. The surprise was so great for Vinzi and Mrs. Lessa that neither could say a word, but pure joy gleamed from their faces. I changed my plans, said Mr. Delric after the first greetings. My friends are returning to Germany another way, and therefore I had to come back once more. Your relatives up there loaded me with greetings for Vinzi, and I am glad to bring them to him myself. If I had gone to Germany another way, I could not have done so, and the good people insisted on my delivering them. They treated me as an old friend because I brought them Vinzi's greetings. Vinzi's eyes gleamed with pleasure and the bliss of remembrance. Did you see them all? The grandfather and Pater Sylvainus, too, he asked expectantly. Yes, everybody, and they all seemed to love you, Vinzi, replied Mr. Delric. Your good Uncle Lorenz and his wife could not tell me enough about your happy times together. Mr. Delric also described how pleased the three boys had been with their gifts. They sent their warmest thanks. Rusli did not let his present leave his hands, wherever he walked or stood. He held on to the red silk bag filled with fine agate marbles. He had sent a special message for Vinzi, which Mr. Delric had not quite understood but hoped Vinzi could make out. Rusli wanted Vinzi to know that he would never in his life tickle them any more. He had never thought a surprise could be so lovely. At that moment the father entered. In surprise over his guest he stood stock still for a moment. Mr. Delric had risen to greet him. Oh, I am glad it's true, said Lessa, with joyful eyes, shaking the proffered hand heartily. I always thought this would happen somehow. It has been so empty here since you left. Welcome again to our house, he added, strengthening this sentiment with the renewed shaking of the hand. Let us sit down to supper now. My wife is sure to have something special for you. She couldn't be less happy than I am at your coming. Mrs. Lessa had already disappeared to prepare supper. The meal passed most pleasantly, as the joy of seeing Mr. Delric again had driven away all gloomy thoughts. When everyone rose from the table, Mr. Delric said, I'd like to have a little talk with you out on the bench, the way we used to do, but don't forget your pipe. Never, replied Vincent's Lessa. Mrs. Lessa understood that Mr. Delric desired to speak to her husband alone, so she kept the children with her indoors. As soon as the men were seated on the bench, Mr. Delric began, I suppose, Mr. Lessa, you have guessed that I had a reason for coming back and changing my plans. You do nothing without a good reason, replied the other thoughtfully. I must tell you something which is so important that I wanted to lose no time, continued Mr. Delric. I had planned to spend a day on the mountain to give Vincent's messages in person and to look up his friends there. First I called on your worthy cousin Mr. Lorenz Lessa and his wife. These good people could not speak enough about Vincent. They miss him so much, for he made life exceedingly pleasant for old and young with his songs and music. I suppose a father likes to hear that. The latter nodded. Then I visited the old grandfather in the tower, who was greatly touched by Vincent's message. He said that Vincent had given him the most beautiful hours he had had for years, the times he boy had trained the chorus to sing to the old man. It is the grandfather's dearest wish to have the boy play for him when he is taking his last journey. I think that this must have been more than a light little song, for could not otherwise have made such a deep impression on the grandfather. What do you think, Mr. Lessa? Vincent's Lessa silently nodded again. When I asked the grandfather if Peter Sylvainis knew anything about music, he grew quite talkative. He told me that Peter Sylvainis had been a very fine musician and had spent many years in a college in Rome. He had sought out the solitude on the mountain voluntarily and had lived there many years, doing good. I found him just the man I was looking for, Mr. Delric went on. A man who could give me an opinion on Vincent's talent. So, of course, I went to see the monk. As soon as he heard that I came from Vincent, he was very friendly and immediately asked me what the boy was doing with his music. Then I told him that I had come especially to find out what he thought of Vincent's gift. The good monk grew enthusiastic. You ask me if he has talent, he exclaimed. The boy is simply full of music. When I studied with him, I never had the feeling of teaching him anything. It was more like drawing everything out of him. In order that I could judge, he told me that the first melody Vincent had composed and had worked out by himself was so original and lovely that he himself often played it. Vincent had also composed a tune to some words, and this had simply won everyone's heart. The cowherds on the pastures, as well as the girls at their spinning wheels, would often sing it. The young lads whistled it in the barns and stables, and people all about hummed it and called it our song. No one quite remembered where it had come from, and it had grown to be the favorite property of the whole mountainside. I don't doubt the boy's talent any longer, Mr. Lessa, and I hope you also are convinced that it is worthwhile to open the way for such a gift and develop it. I am sure you mean to do so, Mr. Lessa. For a while, the farmer deeply pondered, blowing clouds of smoke into the air. Then he said thoughtfully, And what then? To develop it will mean to teach the boy to make music till he won't want to do anything else. But Vincent's Lessa wants no musician for a son. They are a shiftless crowd, and Vinzi has a good home. If he once begins to wander about, he won't ever be able to settle down, and that will be his ruin. How can you expect me, who realizes all this, to start him on it? No, sir, you can't expect this. At this unexpected reply, Mr. Delrick remained silent. A considerable time passed till he said calmly after ripe consideration. Apparently I can't get you beyond the idea of his becoming a traveling musician. But let me make you a proposition. I hope you still have some confidence in me. I have, the other replied firmly. Good. Then I'll propose that you should let me have your boy for a year or longer. I'll do for him what I would do for my own son. If he comes back, and you still think as you do today, a year among strangers will not have harmed him. If he is to spend the rest of his life here on the farm, it won't be bad if he has learned something. That never has hurt anybody yet. Lessa, after considering, suddenly came to a determination. That can't be, sir, he said decisively. Mr. Delrick asked the reason for this sudden statement. I can't possibly send my son into your house for a whole year when you have paid me more for just a few weeks than was necessary, Vincent's Lessa explained. Mr. Delrick smiled. I live alone in a large old house which is very still and empty. Having the boy with me will make a most welcome change, as you can see for yourself. He will bring new life into my existence. But if you are not yet satisfied, I promise to come to you as guest as often as I want to, until we are absolutely even. You know how much I like it here. Please let us settle it, Mr. Lessa. I can only hope you will never regret it. Vincent's Lessa could not help thinking to himself that a year among strangers would benefit Vinzy greatly. After all, the boy had seen very little of other people's lives. He would meet boys of his own age struggling for their existence, and that might teach him to be grateful for his own good fortune. To be taken to the paved streets of a city, from his free life in the country, might even make him homesick and anxious to come back before the year was out. The father would not ask for more. I'll agree, said Vincent's Lessa firmly, pressing the proffered hand to conclude the bargain. I only want to say one more word. If Vinzy should wish to come home sooner than we have settled, you must let him come. Mr. Delrick willingly promised. Then he rose in order to communicate the husband's new plan to the anxious mother, while his companion took his accustomed evening trip through the barn and stable. Mrs. Lessa could find no words to express her gratitude and joy over this new turn events had taken. Now Vinzy was saved from staying with his dreadful uncle, and how wonderful was the way by which he had been spared. Even if she did not quite know what Mr. Delrick meant to do with Vinzy, she was overjoyed at the prospect that her boy was to spend a whole year with such a man. Vinzy likewise knew no more about his immediate future, but looked forward to everything with joyful confidence. Mr. Delrick had told him that Peter Sylvainus wishes, in regard to him, were to be carried out. This meant that he was going to be happy. Three days later came another day of parting. No one was sad this time, because each had some consolation. Only Staffeli rebelled a little, for it seemed to the poor child that no one on earth was compelled to be as lonely as she was. In the winter which followed, Staffeli had to take many a solitary walk. She had no companion on her way to school, and got very weary going alone twice daily to and fro. As she was of a most sociable disposition, this occasioned her many a bitter sigh. From time to time Mr. Delrick sent news about Vinzy. Mrs. Lessa read the letters aloud to her husband, and the reports were always good. Vinzy was well and busy with his studies. The boy sent hearty greetings to his family, and the myths have always concluded with kind words from Mr. Delrick. He spoke of his great joy in having the boy with him and watching his rapid development. When the father had breathlessly listened to these reports about his son's welfare, he often showed some disappointment. He always seemed to be waiting for some message which did not come. Is that all? he would ask when his wife had finished. After she had assured him that she had read every word he silently went away, his wife had guessed long ago that he waited for something which did not happen. She felt that he would have been more pleased if Vinzy were less happy and showed some inclination to come home. This caused new anxieties in her heart, and she wondered what would happen when Vinzy returned. If he did according to his father's wishes, he would never be satisfied, and if his father let him do the work the boy had chosen, a breach would remain between the two, for the father would never be reconciled to the thought that his son would become a strolling musician. She remembered the unspeakable joy of her husband when their son was born. He had indefatigably worked for the little one, and nothing had ever been too good for him. When he looked at his son he was glad to be able to say he could have everything he wants some day. A great pity for her husband surged up in her at these thoughts, and she felt as if she must call Vinzy home, but the next moment she had to think again. But then poor Vinzy will feel unhappy. In her agitation she was glad that she had nothing would ever to decide in the matter, but the greatest consolation of all was the knowledge that one above her, who saw further and knew everything, would decide the final outcome for them all.