 CHAPTER V During the first half of the journey, Vinzi had not spoken. The thought that he was to spend a long time in the midst of strangers far from his home lay heavily upon him. He hardly realized what went on about him. In Barasal his companion took him to the inn belonging to his father's friend. When the latter had questioned the boy sufficiently about the trip, he found it wise for Vinzi to have supper and immediately go to bed, as he was sure to be tired from the long waken till his fellow traveller firmly shook him the next morning. As the sun was already high, it was necessary to hurry, but that did not trouble Vinzi, for he was used to that at home. On the days when they had gone to the pasture, Stefeli was nearly always dressed when he got up, and he had had to be quick to get ready in time. Oh, if only Stefeli were there now to call him, and if only his mother would come in to say a few friendly words. Vinzi had to fight hard to keep back the tears. He was dressed in a short time, and sat down to his cup of coffee in the room where his companion awaited him. The two companions went silently up the mountain. Poor Vinzi felt stranger and stranger as he neared his destination. Look, boys, of the young workmen who had been whistling all the time, do you see that stone house? Vinzi saw it, and in his terror he could not utter a syllable. He thought that the gloomy grey house on the stony slope was his cousin's place. Yes, I see it, he finally said in a very low voice. We'll stop there to get something to eat, said the young man. After that comes the last stretch we have to climb. From then on it goes downhill, and you'll soon be there. I have to go all the way down to the next valley, so we won't have much time to rest. Vinzi was perfectly indifferent. He felt little enough inclination to eat, and was constantly picturing to himself his arrival at the house of his unknown cousins. Maybe it looked as gloomy as the grey house of stone. His inner agitation constantly increased while they had a short lunch and afterwards when they silently took to the road again. They stood on the summit now, and the path began to slope downhill. What is that? asked Vinzi, glancing timidly at a large building which lay at the left of the road. Despite the fact that it seemed to shelter many people, everything about it lay in soundless peace, and not a human being could be seen. That's nothing bad. You don't need to be frightened, said the young fellow. On the contrary, it is a nice place. Good monks live there, who take in people that travel by in winter, half frozen. They have a warm fire for you and a drop of something warm to strengthen you. What is that over there? asked Vinzi again after a little while, when an old solitary tower showed itself to the right of the road. Do you think you have to live there? Don't make such eyes, said the young man. I shouldn't like to live there myself. It is as quiet here as if it were at the end of the world. But they do grow old here. Ten years ago I saw a man sitting there with his hair and beard as white as the snow on that peak. A year ago I saw him too, and sure enough there he is again. Quick now, boy, you don't have far to go. The end was not reached before half an hour's vigorous tramp was behind them. Pointing downhill the workman said, Look at that white building down there. That's a little chapel. A few houses are about it, and they call the Hamlet by chapel. The village is a bit further down, but your uncle lives near the chapel. I'll show you the house, and then I'll leave you. You can't possibly miss your way. Vinzi stared breathlessly ahead of him, and without once looking back rushed forward. They had reached the chapel, which was a little way from the road on a hillock. The young man stopped. Well, here we are, he said. Pass the chapel to your right, and go to the very last house which has a barn beside it. Lorenz Lessa lives there. Good-bye now, and good luck! Good-bye, thank you! said Vinzi as he sadly shook hands. The young man turned about and went whistling on his way, and Vinzi looked after him. The last person who was connected with this home had vanished, and nothing but the unknown lay before him. But alas, it had to be. He did as he was told, and found the house on the grassy slope. A small stone building behind it was evidently the stable. At the other side was a brown construction covered with stones and shingles evidently the barn where the supply of hay was kept. As the small door of the barn was wide open and everything about the house was still and the house door shut, Vinzi went towards it. He knew well enough that one couldn't get into the door from the ground except by clambering up the boards, for the hut was raised off the ground by four posts to keep the hay dry and airy. Vinzi climbed in through the extremely low door where a grown-up person was obliged to stoop. A tall, strongly built man was straightening up the hay. Good-evening! Vinzi called out. Does this barn belong to Lorenz Lessa? It does. What do you want with him? the man called back. He is our cousin. I belong to Vinzenz Lessa and Luke, and father sends you his good greetings. He said you knew about my coming here, Vinzi went on confidentially, for he hoped that this man who had already won his trust might be his uncle. Sticking his fork into the hay, the man came nearer in order to hear better. He looked at the boy straight in the eye, offered him his hand and said pleasantly, Oh, I see! Are you really Vinzi? I am glad you have come to your relatives. Did you come up here all alone? Vinzi's heart had opened at the glance of the friendly eyes and the kindly sound of his voice. He bravely raised his eyes from the floor at which he had been staring till now, and told about his travels. He was so glad, he said, to have found his uncle so soon, for he had been quite frightened at the thought of coming among strangers. There is nothing to be afraid of, said the uncle, good-humoredly. My boys are not exactly tame, but you can manage with them. You must be hungry and thirsty now, he went on, and we had better go over to your aunt who will look after you. Vinzi was on the ground with the jump, and his uncle followed. Just at that moment a woman of rather generous proportions opened the door and calmly looked about her. I have to let the smoke out a bit, she remarked, to her husband. Then observing the boy at her husband's side, she calmly looked him over. I am bringing you our nephew from Luke, said the man, but he is still a bit afraid of us. Please look out that he doesn't feel worse. At this last remark the man slightly chuckled. I fright no children, answered the woman deliberately, giving Vinzi her hand. Welcome to our house, nephew. Then she began to inspect him so thoroughly, from top to toe, that her husband finally said, I should think it better if you examined the rest of him inside. Can't you see that the boy still has the pack on his back? I am sure he wouldn't take it amiss to have something to eat after the long trap he has had. We can have something right away, said the woman. Supper is nearly ready, but the smoke drove me from the stove. I'll put the food on the table, and we can begin to eat. We don't need to wait for the boys. They are sure to turn up sooner or later. Turning towards the house, she freed Vinzi of his pack. Not very long afterwards he sat comfortably at the table with his aunt and uncle, and as soon as all fear of the strange relatives had left him he was suddenly conscious of the most tremendous appetite. Despite the long trip he had barely eaten. The cousins seemed to somehow to have guessed this. For long before the boy's plate was empty he heaped it full again with steaming potatoes and lovely yellow cheese. This combination tasted so delicious together that Vinzi thought he had never eaten anything better in his life. Once in a while his aunt would say, Give him more milk. You mustn't forget how parched he must be from the wind and dust of his long trip. Vinzi needed no urging to drink one cup of fresh milk after another. All of a sudden shrill voices and calls could be heard outside, followed by the loud flicking of whips and happy cries. Vinzi looked out of the window, amazed, but saw nothing. There are the boys. They have come home with the cows. I must quickly run out to help them, for they can't attend to the cattle alone. I suppose you've never done so either. Would you like to come out and see our cows in this table? Oh, lead him alone now, said the aunt. Why should he rush about after all the walking he's done? He can start the day with the boys tomorrow if he wants to. I only asked because boys usually like to be where something lively is going on, replied Lorenz Lessa, but he shall be free to say what he prefers. I'd like to stay here, replied Vinzi. All right, then, said the uncle as he went outside. The aunt showed herself pleased that Vinzi was willing to remain quiet and did not immediately want to run away. First of all he was to have another cup of milk to lay the last bit of dust from the journey. Then folding her arms and settling comfortably into her chair she said, Now tell me about your people at home and the kind of life you lead there. I'd like to hear about such things. Vinzi was pleased at this opportunity to talk about his home. He had been wondering all the time what his mother was doing just then, whether Stefeli was alone on the pasture and how everything was getting along without him. He told his aunt about their household, especially how his mother and Stefeli usually spent the day. Bob Tramping neared the door now and the next instant it was flung open. A boy of Vinzi's age came running in, followed by a little chap and one much larger who apparently resented being the last. Quickly giving a high jump he tried to leap over the little one's head by propping himself on his shoulders. But quick as a wink the sly little one ducked down and the big boy fell headlong with a thump. You must not enter in such an unmanorly fashion, Vaz, said the mother calmly. Good evening, cousin, said the eldest, holding his hand out to Vinzi. Good evening, cousin, cried the second boy too, and good evening, cousin also called the youngest, pushing his way very near to Vinzi. Vinzi heartily shook the preferred hands and answered their salutations. Meanwhile the father had come in. You must know each other's names, boys, he said, stepping towards the group. Your cousin's is Vinzi, which is short for Vinzen's. My three are called Yosef, Boniface, and Morris. But these are their calendar names, and we call them Yosef, Vaz, and Rusli. I think you had better sit down now, for the potatoes have cooled off enough to eat. Oh, I am glad, said the mother with satisfaction, and they won't burn their throats today. Usually they do when they are in such a hurry. All three settled down to the important business of eating. They said nothing, but their glances resting on Vinzi showed that he occupied their thoughts completely. Now that the tumult had subsided and one could speak and hear without exertion, the mother said, as our relatives did not let us know beforehand that Vinzi was coming, we did not get ready for him. But I have an idea. If he is to sleep in the house, we shall have to clear out the storeroom where wheat, corn, and all kinds of things are kept, the mice up there squeak and scratch so much that they might frighten him. Wouldn't it be much better if we fixed him a bed in the hay rick? He would really be much more comfortable there. He'll have to say himself where he'd rather sleep, put in the yonkel. If he prefers the storeroom, will all of us go up and clear everything away? Vinzi, where would you rather sleep? I'd love to sleep in the hay rick, replied Vinzi. I thought so, said his aunt, quite relieved that the matter was so quickly settled. And you must have a little table, a bench, and a chest of drawers to make you comfortable, she added. As soon as you are all done with supper, you can take some things over for him. She went out first in search of what was needed, and soon after the three boys had finished their meal and hastened after her. When Vinzi rose in order to make himself useful, too, the uncle assured him that the heavy pack he had carried on his back was enough work for that day. Hanging it on his arm, the man beckoned to Vinzi to follow him. They had scarcely reached the hay rick when the three boys came running along. Yos carried a little cupboard, Thaz had a small table with a large blanket on top, and Rusli brought a little bench. The mother with the pillow and sheets followed behind. With an agility clearly showing how used she was to climbing into the barn, the ant had gone in. One thing after another was lifted up by Lorenz Lessa, and she pulled them in through the door. When the last one was inside, the uncle said, We'll say good night to you now. On the inside of the door is a wooden bolt that you can fasten. Once inside you are the sole master of your castle, and no person can come whom you wish to keep out. Now the ant came down again. Everything is ready for you, she said. And look, nephew, over there is the stream where you can wash yourself. No one will disturb you there. I laid a towel for you on the bench. Good night. The cousins all wished him good night, too, but Yos turned round once more. Are you coming up to the pasture with us tomorrow morning, Vinzi? Do you expect to stay with us all day while we mine to the cows? Yes, certainly, replied Vinzi. I'll help you all I can, but you must tell me which I have to mind most. Please call me in the morning so that I shan't be late. Yes, yes, I'll call to you loudly through the round air-hole, Yos promised. You'll be able to hear me well enough. With that he ran away. Vinzi was left alone. Climbing up through the door he inspected his barn. In a corner on a high soft pile of hay his bed withspread. Beside it the hay had been pushed away to give room for the table and the bench, and at the wall stood his little cupboard. It all looked like a cozy and inviting little room, but he was not able to sleep because the unusual happenings of the day had excited him so much. Sitting down on the board which formed his threshold he looked outside. The stars were glowing above him in the heavens, and just then the moon rose from behind the mountains. It was beginning to light up the dark trees and meadows, and the little church looked very white, and the high snow-peak rising above the rocky ranges became more and more brilliant every minute. Vinzi opened his eyes very wide, for in his great terror of what lay before him he had seen practically nothing after the gloomy house on the mountain desert. He had made up his mind that only frightful things would happen to him. How different was the scene now before him from what he had anticipated. There was no stony desert here. On the contrary the moonlight gleamed peacefully down to the green slope and sparkled on the tops of the large trees over the way. In the peaceful silence he could hear the continuous soft gurgling of the nearby stream. Vinzi listened to the sound while the tones grew fuller and louder till lovely melodies could be distinguished. He must have been sitting there for considerable time when a strong gust of wind suddenly pushed the door to against his knee and woke him from his dreaming. He had never in his life seen the stars above him sparkle as they did that night. His mother's words that the good God in heaven was above him everywhere and could hear and watch him now suddenly occurred to him. Many times he had heard her say these words but at that moment his heart fully realized them. It gave him a sense that heaven was very near him and filled his soul with gratitude to God who had let him find happiness where he had anticipated evil. How groundless had been his fear of his uncle and aunt. They had received and treated him so kindly that he already felt at home. In his joy he would have loved to fill the night with a loud song of praise, but it was too late for that. Not a single light could be seen about him. Everyone in all the cottages far and near was apparently fast asleep. After shutting and bolting the door he sought his fragrant bed, which was soft and splendid, for no hay could prick him through the heavy sheets. Opposite his bed and especially bright star kept gleaming in through the round hole in the wall. He tried to shut his eyes, but it shone so brightly that he could not help gazing at it. Even when his lids seemed to be closing he opened them again to see it. Yes, the star was still shining. What was more, Vinzi could distinguish some faint, beautiful music which finally put him to sleep. The star was singing to Vinzi so that he could hear it even in his dreams. Next morning Vinzi was awakened by a dreadful noise caused by his name being screamed by many voices at once. Stefeli had never called as loudly as that to awaken him, thought Vinzi, still half asleep. But all of a sudden he realized where he was and whose loud voices had apparently been shouting for a long time in vain. Rapidly putting on the most necessary clothing he opened his door wide and leaped down among his noisy cousins. Hurry up, come along, they called all at once, and Yos added, take your jacket along, as soon as we've had breakfast we are off. As Vinzi was not even washed yet he begged them not to wait for him as he would rather follow them later. The two older ones quickly ran off, but Rusli going with Vinzi to the stream said confidentially, you don't need to wash yourself, you don't look dirty. Come with us, Vinzi, you are clean enough. No, no, Rusli, Vinzi answered, one must wash every morning and besides it makes one feel better. Oh, what nice clear water. So saying Vinzi kneeled down and taking up handfuls he poured the fresh water over his face again and again and also drank one handful after another. This made a deep impression on Rusli for Vinzi looked refreshed and radiant. Meditating deeply the little boy said, I'll come and wash myself here with you and I'll drink afterwards, like you too, I'll do it every day from now on. Having finished his toilet, Vinzi fetched his jacket and went over to the house with Rusli. Both uncle and aunt, who were still at breakfast, greeted Vinzi kindly. The aunt set a large cup of coffee before him and untreated the boy to help himself to lots of bread as the strong mountain air would soon give him a fresh appetite. We ought to have let you sleep longer after your trips at the uncle, but the boys were just wild for you to go with them. They are so pleased to have a cousin who belongs to them now. Just take your time urged the aunt when she saw that Vinzi was hurrying in order to finish his breakfast. Your uncle will go out with you when you are done, and he has not finished either. When the uncle rose soon after, Vinzi followed him. Yos and Faz had been flicking their whips for quite a while to show that they were ready. The father unfastened one cow after another from her stall, and the whole procession began to move. Quite a stretch of road beyond the chapel had to be passed before the pasture ground for the day could be reached. Rusli had immediately come to Vinzi's side and was firmly grasping his hand. He tried to hold Vinzi back as much as possible, while Faz and Yos were busy driving the cows along. This was difficult because the luscious grass along the sides constantly tempted them to stray from the road. Leave me alone, Rusli, Vinzi said, hurrying forward. You see, I must help your brothers to keep the cows in order. During a struggle Faz had with the cow, who was trying to clean off a tender bush by the roadside, he heard these words. Keep Rusli out of mischief for us, he called back to Vinzi. You can't possibly help us better than that. The little chap always tickles the cows with his rod, and that makes them run from side to side. If they do that, we can barely manage them. Rusli is a mischievous little fellow. You'd better hold him tight. Faz at last got control of his obstinate cow, and driving her along followed the others. Vinzi asked Rusli, overjoyed at being able to have his new cousin's company. Have you a knife? Yes, of course. Everybody needs one, Vinzi replied. Come on, and I'll show you a fine bush, said Rusli, where the branches are thick below and very thin above. You know they are very strong, too. Won't you cut me a few good willow sticks? Mine is broken, and I can't do it myself, because I am not allowed to have a knife. Why do you want the stick, asked Vinzi? I hope you don't want it for beating the cows. You heard what Faz just told me about you. Oh, I don't beat them, but I like to tickle them a bit, explained Rusli. That makes them jump, and they get lively. No, no, Rusli, they don't think it fondens it, Vinzi. They jump from fright, because such thin whips hurt them very much. I won't make you any sticks for that. But show me the bush, and if the wood is good, I'll cut you something else. Of course, Rusli was terribly curious to know what Vinzi meant to make him. But Vinzi declared he would not tell till he had seen the bush and asked you a question. Expectedly, Rusli ran ahead. Soon they turned off from the road to a grove, where they found a large bush whose branches stood up perfectly straight. Here, said Rusli, pulling Vinzi along. Vinzi, gazing with satisfaction at the firm branches, began to cut those which pleased him most. Come now, he said, after having gathered a considerable bunch. We must go to your brothers. Do you know where they are? I can't see them any more. I'll cut it for you when I get there. Rusli hastened on, followed by Vinzi. Oh, how lovely it is here, Vinzi exclaimed, and stood still. But where is the pasture? Here, said Rusli. Vinzi looked about him. Here and there, isolated, high, dark larches, let in the deep blue sky through their delicate branches. On the lovely green slope, little patches of fiery red alpine roses glowed between moss-covered stones. The full mountain stream was rushing downhill, throwing up snow-white foam whenever rocks tried to bar its course. Vinzi could see the cows quietly grazing a short distance away. He stood without moving. Never in his life had he seen such a pasture. The slanting sun fell through the trees on the glowing flowers and sparkled on the waving grass. The soft, mountain air, gently fanning the trees, played with the shadows and sowed through their branches with a delicate song. The sowing seemed first to grow, then to die away in the far distance. Vinzi had not moved from the spot, gazing and listening intently. When will you cut me what you promised? asked Rusli quite angrily, for his patience had given out with waiting. All right, I'll come, said Vinzi, as if awakening from a dream. I'll come. But it is wonderful here. Hold these sticks a minute, Rusli. I'll come right back and make you what I said I would. Vinzi ran over to the grazing place and looked about for his cousins. Across the road was a very large pasture without trees and with many cattle. Vinzi could see a small group of goat herds bending over a smoking spot on the ground. They were apparently trying to make a fire, but as it would not burn, were shouting all at once and causing much confusion. Vinzi saw Yos and Faas among them. First he called to Yos, a considerable time in vain, but when Yos finally heard him he came over. Come to us, Vinzi, he called out running. We are making a fire, or I should rather call it smoke. One of the boys found a hole and we think some kind of animal, maybe a marmot, is inside. It'll come out if the smoke gets into the hole. Then we can catch it. Come, we'll have such fun. No, I'd rather not, said Vinzi, for he had not the slightest desire to see a little frightened beast jump out of the hole and much less to see all the boys chase it and frighten it more. I promised Rusli to come back, but I must ask you something. Do you think your father would mind if I cut Rusli a pipe? Why should he mind? What do you mean? I couldn't even guess, why not? Yos exclaimed. I am sure he couldn't possibly object, and we are only too glad if you keep Rusli busy. He makes the cows simply wild, and that keeps us chasing them, the minute they see him even they begin to run. Shouldn't I help you mind to the cows? Asked Vinzi slightly concerned. Can I really sit down quietly and cut out pipes? You can't help us any better way than that, said Yos. Please believe me. Look how peacefully they are grazing. If Rusli were teasing them, they would long ago have begun to run around. Vinzi was delighted at being told his share of the day's work, and he went back to Rusli. Now Rusli, said Vinzi on reaching the little boy, watch what I shall make. As he settled down on a moss covered rock, the reddish purple violets beside him exhaled such a sweet perfume that he had to draw in a few deep breaths. Then carefully choosing one of the branches, he cut it off where it began to grow more slender and started carving the thicker piece. What will it be when it's finished? asked Rusli, who had settled on the stone by Vinzi's side, and was eagerly following the work. It'll be a pipe to play music on, was the answer. Rusli moved nearer to the carver in delighted surprise, for he was afraid he would lose something of the creation of this wonderful thing. Rusli knew the little hollow pipes that usually broke right away, but he had never seen such a thick long wooden pipe as his cousin was making. Vinzi had learned and invented many things since he had cut his first pipes that could only give forth one tone. He cut several holes now in order to have several tones played on it. But it took considerable time to bore the small round holes, because Vinzi was very particular. Several hours passed. Once in a while Vinzi stopped to listen to the wind singing in the branches, and to the merry wavelets of the mountain stream that gave forth sometimes a song of joy and sometimes a low plaintive note. Sometimes he stooped down to inhale the delicious perfume of the violets beside him. But at last he snapped shut his knife. There Rusli, take your pipe. It is finished. With glistening eyes, the little boy set his pipe to his lips and produced the most penetrating sound. Rusli was quite scared at the loud noise he had made, for he had blown into the pipe with all his might. You had better blow it, he said, giving the instrument to Vinzi. At that instant they heard a shrill whistle followed by a second. It was clearly a summons. It is time to eat, said Rusli. They always whistle that way when we are together together for lunch. Come on. Rusli was already bounding away. Look at my pipe! Look, I have a pipe! he called loudly to his brothers who were already eating. As soon as Rusli saw this he looked about till he found the lunch bag which lay like a lost object on the ground. Quickly pulling out his share he gave Vinzi the food meant for him. Take it, he said, this is yours. The others have already taken theirs. Vinzi did this and settled himself beside Rusli, but he could not help thinking what Stafeli would say to them if she saw how they only looked after themselves as if they had had a fight. Yoes had finished in the meantime and called from his seat to Rusli. Give me the pipe, I want to try it. Come and get it, said Rusli in a curt way. Vinzi had already risen to bring it to Yoes when the latter quickly jumped up, asserting that if he wanted it it was for him to fetch it. Vaz had joined them too now. Show it to me, he cried, but Yoes, who was already holding it to his lips, pushed Vaz away. Now the music began. All Yoes knew was that the fingers had to be placed on the different holes to produce various sounds. He succeeded in that, but they had a terribly harsh, disconnected tone. Give it to me, you don't know how, cried Vaz, grabbing the pipe. But under his fingers the pipe shrilled and yelled more hideously still. It looks so fine, said Yoes regretfully, and we could never have made so nice a one, but it does not sound nice. Vinzi had finished his lunch by that time and took the pipe from Vaz. I want to try it too, he said. With this he began to play a little song, one tone clearly and beautifully following the other. Dumb with amazement the three stood before him and listened spellbound. You certainly know how to play, Vinzi. Won't you teach me too, asked Yoes eagerly, as soon as Vinzi had paused? Me too, cried Vaz, and V too, repeated Rusli. Give me the pipe, begged Yoes impatiently. No, give it to me, cried Vaz, but Rusli had already snatched it up and run away with his property for fear that he would be robbed of it by superior string. Leave it to him, said Vinzi. I'll make you each one out of the sticks I have. I can easily get all I want. This quieted the brothers, and as they wanted more music they called Rusli. Yoes especially had been delighted with it. But no calling could bring Rusli back. Finally Vinzi had to hasten after him to explain that he was not to lose his precious gift. The boys sat about in a close group now for every one of them wanted to be as near to Vinzi as possible to see how it was done. He was made to play on and on every conceivable tune he had ever known. When finally his memory gave out, he made up pieces out of songs of birds and the sounds of bells he had heard. The group of listeners had constantly grown, for the boys from the other passengers waiting in vain for Vaz and Yoes had gone to seek them. They got together every afternoon, usually to perpetrate some mischief, and Yoes and Vaz being mostly the leaders they needed them. But the music pleased all the boys so much that they remained. The afternoon slipped away unnoticed. One of the boys suddenly cried, I hear the horn. It must be six o'clock. Immediately they dispersed. But before going they called back to Vinzi. Bring it with you tomorrow. Bring it tomorrow. It was high time for Vaz and Yoes to collect their cows to drive them home. Please, Vinzi, keep the little chap away from us going home. We'll get along much faster than that's the best way for you to help us. Vinzi was only too glad to take charge of Rusli. If his cousins found him most useful that way, he had a good conscience doing it, though it certainly was no hard work. Rusli was also satisfied. Taking Vinzi's hand, he strolled harmlessly by his side, as if he had never played the slightest trick in his life. But he demanded to be entertained. Every time Rusli stopped talking to listen to a bird's song or the gurgling of the stream, the little chap reminded him of his presence. When they approached the house, they saw the father standing under the door to greet them. Well, how did you get along the first day, nephew? He asked. How did you like it on our pasture? A pipe. Look at my pipe. Here, father, take it. It sounds fine, Rusli interrupted loudly, holding the pipe as closely as he could to his father's eyes. Look, there they come with the cows, said the father. Go in and show it to your mother. I'll soon come, too. I loved it on the pasture. Vinzi was now able to answer. It is splendid there under the trees. The day passed so quickly. Yes, and Vinzi helped us so much, added Yos, who had joined them. We got up there about 10 times quicker than usual, and all day the cows were quietly grazing, something they have not done for ages. I wish Vinzi would stay with us always. I'm glad to hear that, said the father. That's a good beginning, and I hope you will keep on that way. He went with the boys to the stable, and Vinzi followed, thinking that his uncle might need his help there. What can I do, he called to his uncle through the open stable door. The ladder was busy milking. We'll be done before very long, answered he. But you can look about in the barn and stable if you care to. Vinzi went out. The sunset glow was gilding the Rocky Mountains opposite. The dark spruces had bright golden tops, and now the bell of the little chapel began to fill the air with its lovely peaceful music. Vinzi, carried completely away by all the beauty, stood and listened, rooted to the spot. He stood thus until the glow had faded and the chapel bell had stopped. Hello! cried a voice behind him while a brisk blow fell on his back. Then he was pulled by force to the pub, where the very necessary daily ablutions had to be made before supper. Are you awake again, asked Fass, who had pulled Vinzi along in the firm belief that he had fallen asleep in the middle of the road? Yes, and your fists would certainly have awakened him before he got to the waters, and yours who had stepped up. Yes, indeed, replied Vinzi, but I would rather he pulled me along than that he told your father that I fell asleep in the middle of the road. I wasn't asleep, you know. He isn't a tell-tale, but he certainly can give a good blow, yo's comforted Vinzi. Fass proceeded to the house, followed by the others. The mother was waiting at the table, patiently enduring the dreadful sounds ruthlessly made with his pipe. You pipe like a cat that is half strangled, Fass cried upon entering. You must not make fun of him right away, said the mother. He does not play so badly for a little boy. He was just telling me something nice about you, Fass. He said that you did not beat him all day, and that he never cried at all. He only gets hit if he deserves it, said Fass. He behaved well today because Vinzi was amusing him. I hope Vinzi stays with us always. Everything went as smoothly as possible today. The other three entered now, and Rusli immediately flew to his father with the cry, Now the pipe! No, no, Rusli. First we eat, and then comes the pipes of the father sitting down. You see, when I was their age, I also like to cut pipes and blow on them. I'll have to look it over a bit, and then try if I still know how. Rusli was satisfied when he saw the deliciously smelling hot corn cake his mother had put on the table. He immediately attacked his heaped-up plate. After supper when everybody leaned back happily in their chairs, and the mother had cleared the table, the father said, Now let me see the pipe. I want to hear what it sounds like. Rusli, being rather sleepy after his hearty meal, found it hard to rouse himself. But he heard his father's words, and was dreadfully afraid that Vaz might bring his pipe to the father first, maybe even keep it afterwards. This brought him to his feet. When he approached with it, the father exclaimed with surprise, examining the long pipe on all sides. What a well made pipe! This is no ordinary pipe at all, but a regular shepherd's pipe with all the regular holes. I wonder if I can still play. Setting it to his lips, he brought forth sounds that somewhat resembled melody. Oh, father can do it better the first time than we did after trying lots of times, said Yozastanisht. Only Vinzi can do it better still. We must hear him now, said the father, handing the pipe to the boy. Won't you please play for us? Vinzi remembered one piece better than any, and he had already played it for the boys at least ten times that day. It was the little tune Alita had taught him. He started to play. When he came to the end there was no sound for a moment because the lovely melody had moved everyone deeply. Yes, of course he plays differently from me, said the uncle. I'd like to know who taught you. Isn't it fine to have something beautiful like that in one's own house without having to seek it elsewhere? said the aunt, quite overcome. It's worth more than many great festivities. If our musician only could play us a beautiful hymn, we could all join in and sing. I'd love to, said Vinzi. I know lots because mother always sings one at home with us every evening. What shall I play? You probably know the same ones I do. Can you play? I sing to you with heart and mouth, asked the aunt. Then he knew the hymn very well. After seeking a little for the notes, he began to play firmly. The aunt sang heartily. The uncle raised a splendid bass, and suddenly Yos joined in with a rich, fine voice. Vaz growled low sometimes after his father. Then he took up his mother's high notes. Rusli squeaked all sorts of tones too, but the other voices were so strong that it did not disturb the singing. The aunt was so happy over the music that she clamored for another song as soon as the first was done. Then another and still another. The uncle said happily, that was a fine entertainment and we must do it again tomorrow. We can't do any better than praise God with music. When Vinci came to his hay-rick, his heart was so full of thanksgiving that he was obliged to sit down a while on his high threshold. Looking up to the sky, he saw thousands of stars looking happily down upon him. Oh, how wonderfully beautiful it was here! The father had said that it was a splendid thing to praise God with music. Tomorrow they would be allowed to do it again, and probably every day after that, thought Vinci to himself, the pipe had pleased the uncle too, and he seemed to enjoy hearing it. The happiness in Vinci's heart rose higher and higher at this thought. He felt as if he had to sing out loudly once more. In fact, it seemed as if all he had to do was to join in the great song of praise which came to him from all sides, from the shining stars, the gleaming chapel, the merrily rushing stream, and the golden moon over the high mountains. He quietly sang to the glorious magic music about him. The wind stirred gently and wafted the perfume from the pungent hay to Vinci's senses. Suddenly he remembered where he was. As it had grown very cool, he quickly closed the door and sought his inviting bed. From that day on Lorenz Lessa's family had music every night. They sang eagerly as if it was the chief work of the day. But the work of the day was behind them, and they could give themselves freely to the joys of their happy evenings. What pleased Vinci most was that his uncle and aunt always counted on having music every night. At supper time the aunt always said, I look forward already to Vinci's playing. And when the meal was over the uncle would say, I suppose we still have time for a song or two. Whenever his uncle Lorenz started to sing, more songs he had known in his youth rose in his memory. Even if Vinci did not know them, all the uncle had to do was to sing them to the boy a few times and the latter would repeat them perfectly. The rest could follow his piping and in that way learn all the songs. The uncle got a tremendous satisfaction from it all. When such a musical evening had passed, the uncle shook Vinci's hand three or four times. You can make one young again with your music, he would say. You are piping the joy of youth back into my heart, boy. End of chapter five. Chapter six of Vinci. 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 six. Hire Up the Mountain. About three weeks after Vinci had come to his uncle's house, a good friend of his father, who had business in Domo, came to see him. He brought him and the Lessa family greetings from Vinci's parents. On his way home, he expected to stop as he had promised to bring Vinci's Lessa news of the boy. His parents wanted to hear how he took to the life on the mountain and how he got along with his relatives. They also wondered if he annoyed his relatives by his silent, dreamy ways. The uncle and aunt were to decide when the boy was to come home. As soon as they were ready to let him go, they couldn't trust him to some companion or send word to Luke where they could find one. The man was to return in five or six days, of which the fifth day had just passed by. Lorenz entered the room. His wife had set the supper table and was quietly awaiting the return of the boys when she could place their welcome meal before them. The man from Luke won't come today, said Lorenz. I suppose he'll be here tomorrow early. We must let them know down there how much we like Vinci. Indeed, we will, agreed the wife. I was just wondering to myself why they sent him here. I would keep such a lad at home. One usually sends a boy away when he isn't quite as he ought to be or if he has queer ideas in his head that he might lose among strangers. But there are very few boys like Vinci. Since he has come here, I hardly recognize our own. Take Rusli, for instance. Every morning he had to be dragged by violence to the fountain, and while he got washed, he usually shrieked like mad. Now he runs over to the stream behind the hay-rick as soon as he is out of bed. He loves to wash himself there, he says, because Vinci does it too and likes it. Rusli rubs and scrubs himself cleaner than he would ever have let me do. He wants to look like Vinci, whom everyone likes to look at. Rusli never comes home in tears the way he used to, either. One might have supposed that they had nearly killed him the way he carried on. When I ask him what has made the change in him, he answers that Fass is not allowed to beat him because Vinci takes his part. If I ask Fass how it is that he leaves Rusli in peace, he answers that Vinci keeps him in order and he needs no beating. I like it better that way, he says sensibly. I wish Vinci would stay with us always. Fass would never have said such a thing before, for he used to enjoy giving blows. Yos was the only one who never gave us much trouble. Oh, I suppose the eldest sons are always considered models by their mothers. Oh, well, Yos can't show himself anywhere the woman continued. I never saw a better-mannered boy than Vinci, though. Yos has noticed that and has begun to imitate him which suits him very well. He would only need a hat on his head and the kind of cloak around his shoulders that strangers on the stagecoach wear to look like a gentleman's son. That's not necessary, interrupted the husband. And we never should have found out that Yos has such a beautiful voice if Vinci had not started him with his music, continued the wife, and just think of our peaceful evenings with the lovely singing every day, we are not disturbed any more by one boy throwing the other under the table while the third one is breaking his chair by writing on it. I think that the music has somehow tamed them. They are hardly the same boys. I just want to say one more thing. Why did your cousin, Vincent, send the boy up here instead of keeping him at home? I am sure his wife did not wish him to go. I guess that much. Tell me, what do you think? You can be sure that Vincent's had a good reason, replied the husband. I have asked myself the same question and have not been able to answer it. I remember his mentioning something to me about the boy. When the man from Luke asked us if Vinci did not annoy us with his long fits of silence, I recollect that he thought our boys were more merry at their work. As he wished his boy to be the same, he thought the totally different surroundings here might help him. He was in the right, too. Vinci is as gay as a lark nowadays and makes the others gayer than they ever were. The cheerful cries of the homecoming boys could now be heard. In order to assist them, the father went outside while the mother turned towards the kitchen. The time had come to put everything on the table in order to avoid impatience on their part and burnt throats. The next day the man from Luke returned. After putting a glass of wine before him, Lorenz Lessa sat down at his side. What shall I tell him, asked the man? Tell my cousin, Vincent, that everything here is going well, began Lorenz, and that his boy is very happy. He sings and whistles like a bird in seed time and we with him. And that we love him as if he were one of us, added the wife. We want to keep him here to the very last day of autumn. Yes, and tell my cousin, the uncle continued, that we should like to keep him for the winter if he has no objection. He has not annoyed his soul up here. On the contrary, he has made everyone happy. Vincent Lessa will be glad to hear that. I'll carefully give him your message, said the man. Mrs. Lessa also wants to know how the boy is looking. She wants me to tell her exactly, but I suppose he is not to be seen. No, for the boys are all on the pasture from six in the morning till six at night. They sing and whistle and could not have a better time, said Lorenz. My cousin will approve of that, I am sure, or he would certainly not like him to stay at home. And tell Mrs. Lessa that she need not worry, the woman went on. Her boy looks as well and sprightly as a cricket. If he should be ill, I'll see to him as if he were my own. Well, that splendid, said the messenger from Luke. He was satisfied with the news he could bring to Mrs. Lessa, for she had pressed him to inquire into the smallest details, many of which had quite forgotten. Vincy had kept his promise in carving faas and yos, each a beautiful pipe, and both were hard at work practicing. Pipe playing had grown to be their sole amusement, for it was their dearest wish to imitate Vincy as much as possible. Both realized that Vincy's playing was vastly superior to theirs, but they did not give up and tried to learn whatever they could. As soon as they reached the pasture in the morning, the piping began, and while the cows were grazing peacefully, they would devote themselves to music. Yos and Faas were usually leaders of the other boys in their sports. When these did not appear, they were very much missed by their comrades, so the other boys came over to them, and soon this enthusiasm about music proved catching. Each boy wanted to try his talent for piping and thought he could imitate Vincy's playing better than any other, but they all agreed in pronouncing him their master, for each pipe to got a different quality when Vincy blew it. After the pipes had continuously been whining, howling and squeaking, the boys always begged Vincy to play. They wanted to see how he did it, and Vincy was only too glad to do so. He played as long as they liked to hear him, while they actually crowded around him and eagerly watched his fingers. The melodies seemed to come somehow of themselves. All he did was to let his fingers leap lightly over the holes, and it looked childishly simple. After watching him, each thought that he could now do it too, and it made every boy eager to try afresh. If one seemingly succeeded fairly well, another boy would say that he could do it as well, if only he had his own pipe and took time to practice. This was impossible now, because one could not keep the precious instrument more than a few minutes at a time. There were already ten more who clamored for it. Therefore, one boy after another would come to Vincy saying, I wish you would cut me a nice pipe, Vincy. I'll give you something for it. Vincy answered always, most obligingly, I'll make you a pipe and you needn't give me anything, but you'll have to wait for it because I have promised to make others first. Vincy was kept very busy because every day brought him new requests for pipes. Some of his time was taken up by playing, and Rusly did not give up his demands upon him either. But Vincy felt happy and satisfied. Whatever he could do, he did gladly, and it gave him great satisfaction to be able to spread such joy about him. The uncle was delighted to hear about the daily gatherings on his pasture. He liked this pursuit of music, and it pleased him that boys who lived as far up as the hospice should come down to learn the art of piping. By cutting several pipes every day, Vincy finally supplied nearly every pasture ground with two or three. But this did not suffice. As soon as a boy had succeeded in giving forth a few satisfactory sounds, another immediately wanted to try his talent too. It took considerable practicing patience before they could attempt to play a tune, for it was even hard to make smooth, pleasant sounds. The supreme wish of each boy had become to own a pipe which Vincy had carved himself, for no one else could do it so well. Among the boys who met daily there were about ten or twelve who were called the Tower Boys. Vincy never knew exactly how many of them there were, because only some of them could come down to the Lessa pasture at a time, the others staying behind to mind the cows. Vincy had first believed them all to be brothers, but he found out that they were cousins and came from three different households. He had given two of them pipes already, for they had been very eager for them. One of them, who was called Black Varelli, on account of his black curly hair and dark complexion, had teased and begged him for pipes so insistently that Vincy could not resist his pleading. He gave him one which was already finished despite the fact that the other boys cried jealously. The Tower Boys have two already! Full of gratitude and enthusiasm, Varelli ran away with his precious gift. The next day he appeared again and quickly ran to Vincy. I have to mind the cows today, but the others can stay, he said breathlessly, but I have a message for you. I showed grandfather the pipe and he made me play on it. When he said I didn't know how to play, I told him that you could do it better than anybody else, so he wants you to come and play for him sometimes. Won't you come some day when I have to stay up there? Please come tomorrow if you can, Varelli called back as he ran away. I must ask Uncle First. Where shall I go if he lets me, Vincy called after the boy? But he got no answer from Varelli who was already far away. You go up to the Tower Boys, replied ruthlessly. He was as usual close to Vincy's side and so had heard his question. But I don't know where they live, replied Vincy. In the Tower, of course, said Ruthly. Is that the reason why you call them the Tower Boys? Of course, Ruthly calmly informed him. The old grey tower that had filled him with such grave misgivings rose before Vincy's eyes now. In his wild state of fear it had seemed to him no less than a prison in which his uncle might be living and where he might be obliged to live too, but besides the Tower he had a vague recollection of a bright meadow with shining flowers surrounding the building. His glance had hardly rested on these things in his foolish terror. Now he felt suddenly seized by an intense desire to wander up along the highway to see how all the things looked that had grown so dim in his recollection. That evening he repeated Varely's words to his uncle, asking at the same time what he was to do. Go up to the tower tomorrow, boy, answered the uncle. The grandfather was the oldest man on the whole mountainside and one had to do his bidding. Whose grandfather is he? asked Vincy. Oh, the grandfather of all the so-called Tower Boys, replied the uncle, and of a huge family besides who stay at home. Only the boys who attend to the cattle go up there. He is, in fact, their great or even great-great-grandfather. But as that is much too complicated to say, all his relatives on the mountain call him grandfather. He has an enormous number of grand and great-grandchildren. Yes, Black Varely is decidedly the worst of the whole bunch, shouted Vaz. How so? asked the father, who saw not the slightest connection between his own statement and the words which had followed. Oh, I mean that the Tower Boys always start the worst mischief and Black Varely invents most of their tricks, Vaz explained. Yos always takes his part because he can yodel so well. Yes, he can do it like no one else, and I love to hear him, affirmed Yos. I think that the invention of naughty tricks is beginning to die down a bit. Varely is needed for that, and he has something else in his head now. Vinzi has made him a pipe, which he has wanted for ages, and he is so determined to learn how to play that nothing will stop him. You know that if he wants a thing, he never gives up till he has it. Those pipes are a real blessing for the whole mountain, it seems to me. They are toning down even the worst boys, said the mother, comfortably leaning back in her chair. She knew what peace it had brought to her own evenings and was already waiting for the tones of the pipe, which so quieted them. When the boys were ready to set out to the pasture with their cattle next morning, the uncle said to Vinzi, go right up to the tower, for the grandfather is sure to be up by now. He sits from early morning till evening on the bench before his house, sunning himself. You will have to judge when it will be time to leave. Be sure to stay as long as he wants you to. They set out, Rusli as usual, staying a little behind Vinzi. He had attentively listened to his father's words. You must come back soon, he said. You must come down as soon as you have played something for the grandfather. Didn't you hear what your father said, Rusli, retorted Vinzi? I have to do what the grandfather wants me to. I'll have to stay all morning if he wishes me to. Then I'll tickle the cows again, Rusli asserted grimly. That is wicked of you, Rusli, cried out Vinzi full of indignation. I always thought that you were a nice boy. Didn't I stay with you all the time and tell you all sorts of stories? Didn't I play for you as much as ever you wanted me to? I never believed Fass when he told me naughty things about you. And now I find that what I thought untrue was true after all. Do you know what I am going to do? I'll stay with you and Fass from now on and you can stay by yourself and I'll never come near you any more. Then I won't do it, said Rusli, half obstinately and half repentently. That's right, Rusli, said Vinzi, already reconciled. And I'll promise to cut you something on the way every time I leave you. What do you want, a walking stick? No, came the decided answer. Do you want a flagpole? No, what do you want? A pipe. But I gave you one ages ago, suggested Vinzi. I don't care. I want a pipe and then another and still another every time you want to make me something, Rusli said stubbornly. All right, you shall have a pipe, Vinzi promised. When the boys came to the pasture, they turned their herd to the right of the road towards the large trees, but Vinzi continued on his way. Every time his three cousins called to him, come back soon, he answered by waving his cap to them. He felt so well and strong now that he threw his cap high into the air and caught it again with a loud shout. Vinzi had never been so wonderfully happy before. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky over the green fields, pastures and rugged mountains, against which the dark spruces were sharply outlined. He remembered having come that way. But how different it all looked now. The scene constantly grew more entrancing. The high snow mountains stood out completely behind the wooded heights and its great and mighty summit shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Suddenly a miracle seemed to happen. A broad stream gleaming like silver in the early morning light spread right across the whole mountain. But it made not a sound or motion. It was not rushing water, but a glorious broad glacier. Vinzi had to stand still as he watched strange blue fire flash across the expanse. He lingered a while, unable to go further. How strange that he should not have taken in all this beauty before. Going on again, he was repaid by hearing sounds as of a rustling wood in the distance. He wondered what it might be, because he knew that there was no forest here. Foaming white and roaring loudly, there suddenly appeared before him a waterfall which leaped down over steep rocks and right across the way he saw a second here and there gurgling mountain streams rushed down from the rocky walls and the air that blew into his face was so deliciously fresh that he had to pause again and take deep breaths. But what was the glowing red field which stretched a short distance from him down the slope? Eagerly Vinzi ran along as if he had wings and the bracing air made him forget how steep was the slope he was climbing. Sometimes as the road made a curve, the red field would vanish for a while, only to reappear again much nearer and still more brilliant in the sunlight. Now a well-known sound of cowbells greeted his ears and he wondered where the cattle were. He had to stop again in order to look about him. At his left, below the road, he could see the herd peacefully grazing in a fresh green meadow. He saw cows of different colors and quite a number of boys. Some lay flat on the ground while others stood together in little groups. In the middle of the valley was a gray stone tower. That was the old tower he had seen on his trip and his cousins had described to him. Also the grandfather set leaning his back against the ancient walls exactly as as Uncle Lorenis had told him he would do. The old man with the bright sun shining down upon him was gazing up at the blue sky. He wore no hat on his snow white head and a heavy white beard fell down to his chest. The old man sitting in the sun with the cows quietly grazing about him made the most peaceful scene. Even the old tower which had frightened him so seemed to be quite a cozy abode and Vinzi could picture all the tower boys leading a very happy existence there with the grandfather. He was anxious to inspect it from near. But first he had to see the red mountain side. It could not be far from here now. Vinzi hurried along. After a curve of the road the red sparkling field lay before him. Climbing over the rocky edge of the road he went deep into the green leaves which were covered with bright red alpine roses. They spread over the whole slope as far as he could see. And he could not help saying how beautiful to himself over and over again. Carefully going on he discovered a little spot free of plants. Here he could sit down in the middle of the flowers without hurting them. In silent rapture he gazed at the glory about him. The sun was beating down from a cloudless sky with the fresh mountain breeze fanned his cheek and made him bless the hot rays. The dark blue sky stretched close over the gleaming field of roses. The gray ranges and green sunny slopes. The mighty snow peak opposite rose high into the air and thundering streams flung their snow white foam sunwards so that they sparkled in a thousand colors. Vinzi must have been sitting there dreaming a long while. Suddenly he became conscious of the sun being nearly above his head, which meant that it was practically noon. Starting up at once he ran in big leaps over the flowery field, putting his feet down so that he did not crush a single rose. Then he crossed the road and still kept on running across the other meadow to the old tower. Vinzi planted himself immediately in front of the grandfather, who was still sitting on his wind-sheltered bench in the sunshine. But he had to take a deep breath before he could attempt to speak. What is it, boy? Why are you in such a hurry, calmly asked the grandfather? I am a bit late. I meant to be here much sooner, replied the boy, having at last gained his breath. Black Varely sent me here because you wanted to hear me play the pipe. Oh, I see! You are the boy who carves the pipes, and who is supposed to play so well, said the old man. It is nice of you to come here. Sit down beside me on the bench and tell me where you come from, and to whom you belong. Vinzi, after sitting down, told the old man about his family, and that he was staying for a while with his uncle Lorenz Lassa. I know him, said the grandfather. He is a splendid man. Did he object to your coming up here? Vinzi answered that his uncle had bitten him to go and stay as long as the grandfather wished. Oh, I am glad, then you can play something for me. But I think we had better have some food first. With these words the old man rose, but changing his mind subtly, he resumed his seat again. I don't think it would be unseemly if the young one brought the lunch while the old one remained seated, he said, kindly patting Vinzi's shoulder. Go around the corner here, open the door and go to the shelf. You'll find a jug of milk and everything else ready. Go and bring it. Vinzi was gone in a minute and quickly returned with the required articles. The food was placed between them on the bench, and the grandfather cut pieces of bread and cheese, inviting Vinzi to do the same. But the boy slightly hesitated. All morning he had done only what he had felt like doing, instead of coming early and playing to the grandfather. Therefore he could not begin with a clear conscience. Eat, eat, boy. What's the matter? There's more than enough for us both. Why don't you begin? Ask the old man after a while, with such a kindly guidance from his eyes that Vinzi would have felt like doing a more difficult bidding. How do you like it here on our mountain? Ask the man after a little while. Vinzi's eyes fairly flashed. Oh, it is wonderful here. I never saw anything more beautiful in my life, he exclaimed, still filled with his recent impressions. At this the grandfather patted him on the back again. Neither did I, neither did I, he said, full of satisfaction. You think just what I think. I'd like to know where it could be finer. Where do they have such golden sunshine as we have up here, and pure air like that which simply fills one with health? Everyone can breathe as much of it too as he can hold. And what strength this air and sunshine give one? I tell you, I know something about it. Of course, my strength is beginning to give out a bit. I am still well, but not young anymore. How old do you think I am, boy? Maybe 70, said Vinzi. Oh, is that what you think? I was 70, 20, and a few odd years ago. And I was young still at that time. I thought nothing of going with heavy loads on my back down into the valley and coming up again with more. But I can't do such things now. And no more do they want me to. All the young people ask of me is to keep peace among the boys while they stay in the tower during summer. They are on the pasture during the day, but when they come home in the evening, they need someone to keep them in order. Otherwise, things go amiss. I sit here in the sunshine all day, and that gives me ample time to think over all the blessings I have to thank our Lord in heaven for during my long life. Since I passed my 90th year, I do not count anymore. I take every fine day as a splendid gift and looking up to heaven in the evening. I say from the bottom of my heart, thanks for it. Good Father in heaven, thanks. And when the time comes for me to go, I won't have far to go. Look what a short distance I will have to fly. That's one of the reasons I love it here on the mountain. It's very close to heaven and so open that one can look about in all directions. Once thoughts easily strive upwards and make one happy, either living or dying. Vinci had followed the grandfather's words with keen attention. The boy was sorry when the speaker was silent at last, for he would have liked to know much more about the grandfather's solitary existence. What are you thinking about so earnestly, ask the grandfather after a considerable silence between them? I was longing for you to tell me about your life in winter when the boys have gone home. I wonder if you stay in the tower all alone, or if you have to leave despite your being so happy here, replied Vinci. I have not gone to the valley for at least ten years, and I do not care to, said the grandfather, inhaling a deep breath of the sunny mountain air. I could neither stand the heavy air nor the crowds of people who get in each other's way. I don't have to live alone in the tower because the monks in the hospice up there are my good friends. You know where it is, don't you? No, replied Vinci, and I don't even know what kind of place it is. It is a good place, said the old man. They receive there in winter poor travelers who cannot go on for the cold and the masses of snow, and whom they often find lying outside half-frozen. The good monks who live in the hospice fetch them in to a warm fire, then give them strengthening food and drink till they are able to travel on their way. They are my very best friends, and when the boys drive the cattle home in the autumn, I go up to live with them. You may have seen the hospice, for it is just a little way up in that direction. Oh yes, I remember it now, exclaimed Vinci for the picture of a big stone house on the road rose before him. He remembered having seen it on his walk, and he recalled how still and dead everything about it had seemed exactly as if no one lived there. A worn chimney corner is always ready for me there, continued the old man. I sit there all winter long and hear many a good word from the monks. Once in a while I see a poor wretch who would have perished miserably but for their help. After being cared for he is able to take up his load again with fresh courage. I hear things about the world once in a while that make me glad that I am so far away. I can well believe it, replied Vinci, understandingly. How would it be if we made a little music now, asked the grandfather after a pause? Then he set the empty picture, the plate, and knife under the bench in order to make more room. What would you like best to play? Vinci, taking up his pipe, had begun to play a melody. It pleased his listener so much that he had to repeat it straight away. As soon as he had finished it the second time the grandfather said, that was a beautiful thing. Was it a hymn? Yes, said Vinci. How did you learn that? Boys usually whistle quite different tunes. Where did you find it? The old man wanted to know. I didn't find it. I play the tune as I hear it sung. Mother sings such a song with us at home every night, Vinci declared. Do you know more like that? The grandfather inquired. Oh yes, lots more, Vinci assured him. I'd love to know if you could play me a song I heard only once in my life. I would give a great deal if I could hear it again. But all I know about it is the refrain at the end of each verse. Perhaps you could recognize it from that. It would be better if you could sing me parts of it, said Vinci. No, no, boy, I can't sing any more, the grandfather remonstrated, but I can tell you what the song was about and how the ending went. You see, I was not always as happy as I am now. Of course, when I was young like you, I was happy. For I had a mother who watched over me as yours apparently does, who teaches you such nice songs. My father was dead and I had comrades who wanted me to go out with them into the world to seek adventures. As I wanted to go so much, I had to do it against her will. We went and traveled far, sometimes as soldiers, sometimes as workmen. It was a wild life, but you couldn't understand that yet. Finally, I couldn't bear it any longer. I begged them to turn back and start a new existence, but they would not hear of it. So I returned alone. It had been a long time since I had written to my mother or her from her. When I came home, I found that she was dead. She wouldn't have gotten sick if you had stayed at home, our neighbor said to me. These words were deeply burnt into my soul. I wanted to begin a new life and redeem myself, but I could find no joy in anything. My conscience constantly reproached me and troubled me, and I realized I could never atone for her death. One night when I couldn't sleep for remorse, I cried aloud to heaven. Oh mother, you were always ready to help me before. Please, help me now, or don't I deserve it? On awakening in the morning, I clearly heard my mother's voice saying, Go to church, Klaus. The bells are ringing. She had always said this to me every Sunday morning during her lifetime. I jumped out of bed and found that it was really Sunday. I hadn't been to church for a long while, but that day I went again. At first I could not follow the pastor's words, but suddenly I heard, and our Lord came down from heaven to bring us mercy and forgiveness and keep us from perishing in our misery. And he gave us back our joy. That was clearly meant for me, and it went through me like a ray of sunshine. Then came the song I spoke of. I could understand every word of it because it told exactly how I felt at that moment. At the end of every verse came the following refrain. For the blessed song of mercy thrills our hearts forevermore. I've never forgotten it. From then on I went to church whenever the bells called me, and I heard many comforting words there that made me glad again. Do you think you could play me the song now? Vinzi would gladly have done the grandfather's bidding, but he did not know the song. Then play me one of your own. I love to hear them, too, said the grandfather comfortingly, for he realized the boy was not able to fulfill his wish. Vinzi did so willingly and kept playing one piece after the other until loud calls and cries from the distance showed him that the boys were starting to come home. Quickly rising Vinzi asked the grandfather's leave to go. The latter agreed that it was high time. He could not comprehend, however, how quickly the afternoon had flown. Can you come soon again, he asked and added. Please tell your uncle Lorenz that I shall expect you soon again. Just let me say one more word. I wish you could teach our boys to play, too. That would give me something with hearing when you are gone. Vinzi told the old man that he was already teaching them. Unfortunately they always failed to play the melodies smoothly. They were much better at singing and quickly learned to sing new songs. All right, teach them some of your songs, then. I suppose that you know others beside the hymns. Yes, I have heard some from uncle Lorenz. If I only had words to one I know, I could teach them that, answered Vinzi. Then you are like me. I forget the words, too. But you are still too young to do that, was the old man's opinion. I haven't forgotten them. I never knew them, said Vinzi seriously. The old man measured him with a penetrating glance, trying to see if this was meant to be a joke. But Vinzi looked far too earnest. How can you know a song if it has no words, he asked? I know a few words of it, and the way it should sound, but it is so hard to make up enough words for a whole song, and I can't do it. When I was sitting among the roses this morning, I heard the song, and I could sing it, except for the words, if only someone could write me a song. Vinzi looked longingly up to the grandfather. Maybe I know a person who could do it, replied the last man. Maybe I know a person who could do it, replied the latter, very pleased at the possibility of helping Vinzi. What would your song be about? About the Alperoses and the sunshine on them, the sunshine on the mountains, and the foaming water, and all the beautiful things I saw there. Vinzi's eyes sparkled as he eagerly described this. The melody he had heard kept going in his head, and he could barely keep himself from singing it aloud. I'll let Peter Silvanus know about this, and we'll see what he could do. With this the grandfather shook Vinzi's hand once more. Then the boy ran down the mountain without stopping once till he had reached his uncle's house. Loud cries came from the pump, where his three cousins were just going through their daily ablution. All rushed towards him and wanted to know what he had done all day, at the same time telling him about their own happenings. In the middle of it all, Rusli pulled his jacket confidentially, for he had an important communication to make. Finally he was able to make himself heard. I did not pinch any all day, not even one. For reward Vinzi drew a beautiful new pipe from his pocket. Vinzi had acquired such skill in carving pipes that he had rapidly made that morning while sitting among the roses. Uncle runs and his aunt greeted him as heartily as if they had not seen him for a long while. After he had given the grandfather's message to his uncle, the latter replied, Yes, yes, go up there as often as you please. Only be sure to come home to us in the evening. The aunt joined in, too, adding, It would suit me best if things should never change and Vinzi could stay with us always. When Vinzi soon after sat on his threshold, he had a great many things to think over. His thoughts kept him so busy that he would have liked to dispense with sleeping altogether and sit there all night. He was still filled with the grandfather's story, which had made a tremendous impression upon him. While listening to it, he had had an idea, which since then had grown more vivid. Now the time seemed to have come to carry it out. Raising the pipe to his lips, he quietly began to play to himself. Sometimes he paused, silently listening to what he heard. Then he hummed again as the melodies were slowly taking shape. Vinzi looked about him. All the houses round about were dark, but all the stars sparkled down on him so radiantly that he finally grew silent and looked in pious awe at the joyfully gleaming sky above. Oh, now I know it, he cried suddenly. Raising his pipe again, he lured from it the most tripping happy tunes. Quite satisfied, he at last closed his little door and lay happily down on his fragrant couch of hay. The music seemed really to begin now, for he felt that whole choruses of angels were singing down to him from the shining stars. But Vinzi only heard this in his slumbers, for as soon as he had touched his pillow, he was fast asleep.