IN EXILE
VINZI made the first half of his journey without speaking a word. The
thought that he was to live with strangers a long time depressed him,
so he did not wish to talk and scarce realized what went on around him.
At Berisal his companion took him to the innkeeper who knew his father,
and after the man had plied him with questions about his trip, he
thought it best for Vinzi to have his supper and go to bed quickly, as
he must be weary with his journey. Indeed, he was so tired, he sank
into a sound sleep and did not wake until his fellow-traveler shook him
the next morning.
He dressed hurriedly, swallowed his cup of coffee and soon was climbing
the mountain with his companion. The pair went along silently, for
Vinzi was more and more overcome with fear the nearer he came to his
destination.
"Look, my boy!" said his guide suddenly as he stopped his inveterate
whistling. "Do you see that gray stone house over there?"
"I see it," he said at last in a low tone.
"We will stop there for something to eat," said his companion. "Then
comes the last climb. After that our way is down. You will not have far
to go, but I have to go all the way down the valley, so we cannot rest
long."
It was all the same to Vinzi whether the halt was long or short, and
he had no desire for food. He thought only of his arrival at the house
which might be as dismal as this one of gray stone. And then those
strangers! Now they reached the summit and the road began to descend.
"What is that?" asked Vinzi, looking timidly at a great building on the
left of the road.
"You need not be so frightened," said the young workman. "There's
nothing bad about it. On the other hand, it's a fine place. The monks
live there who take in travelers in the winter who are half frozen."
"What is that over there?" asked Vinzi a little later, pointing to an
ancient tower.
"You are making such eyes at it, would you like to go inside?" asked
the young man, laughing. "I would not care to enter those old walls.
It is as silent there as if it were the end of the world. But there
are old men there. Ten years ago I saw one sitting by the tower, his
hair and beard as white as the snow on yonder peak. A year ago I saw
him again. Ah, there he is now! Step lively, my boy; you have not much
farther to go."
But there was a half hour's brisk walk before his companion pointed
down the road and said, "Do you see that little white church, with the
few houses beside it? That place is called Near-Chapel. The village is
a little lower down, but your cousin lives at Near-Chapel. I'll show
you the house and then keep on my road. You cannot miss your way."
When they reached the chapel which stood near the road on a little
rise, the guide paused and said, "Well, here we are! Now go to the
right past the chapel, to the very last house. There is a barn beside
it. Lorenz Lesa lives there. Good-bye and good luck!"
Vinzi shook his hand, and with drooping head said, "Good-bye, and I
thank you."
His guide turned and went whistling away.
Vinzi gazed after him, and when he passed out of sight felt he had
lost the last home tie; the unknown lay before him. He walked past the
chapel to the house that stood beyond. The small stone building near
it must be the barn. On the other side of the house was a shed, roofed
with shingles and stones, evidently the hayrick, for fodder was stored
within.
As the house door was closed and the door of the shed stood open, Vinzi
went to the hayrick. That no steps led up to the little door was not
surprising to Vinzi; he knew the arrangement. The little shed did not
rest on the ground but stood firmly on four blocks, to keep the hay dry
and ventilated. As Vinzi knew, it was a case of clambering up to the
open door, which was so low a full-grown man had to stoop to enter.
Vinzi climbed up nimbly, and found a tall man working inside.
"Good evening!" he called out. "Does this hayrick belong to Lorenz
Lesa?"
"It does. What do you wish of him?"
"He is our cousin. I belong to Vinzenz Lesa of Leuk, and my father
sends greetings to you. You know why I have come," Vinzi informed him
confidently, for he hoped this man was the cousin himself.
Sticking his wooden pitchfork into the hay, the man stepped forward to
hear the lad better.
"Well, so you are Vinzi!" he said, giving him his hand and looking
him straight in the eyes. "It is good that you have come up to your
relatives. Did you make the journey all alone?"
Vinzi's heart went out to the friendly speaker. He no longer gazed at
the ground, but looked into the kindly eyes and told about his trip
and how glad he was to find his cousin so quickly, for he had been
frightened at the thought of coming among strangers.
"There is nothing to be afraid of here," said the man good-naturedly.
"The boys aren't exactly tame, but you will get along with them. You
must be hungry," he continued, "so we will go to my wife, who will
attend to that."
With a spring Vinzi landed on the ground and the cousin followed.
Just then a stout woman opened the door of the house and looked calmly
around. "I have to let some of the smoke out through the door," she
said to her husband, but she looked inquiringly at the boy at his side.
"I am bringing our young cousin from Leuk," he explained. "He is a bit
afraid, so you must see to it his fear doesn't grow," and chuckled.
"You are welcome, young cousin," she said, offered her hand and
inspected him from head to foot until her husband said:
"I think it might be just as well to continue your examination indoors.
The youngster still carries his knapsack, and if he should happen to
get something to eat soon, he would not take it amiss. He has put a
stiff march behind him."
"He can eat right away," said she. "Supper is just ready; the smoke
drove me from the hearth. I will serve it at once, for we need not wait
for the boys; they will soon be coming."
Stepping into the house, she took off Vinzi's knapsack, and the lad
was soon comfortably seated at the table. As they ate, all timidity
vanished. He was ravenously hungry for he had scarcely eaten on the
journey. Somehow his cousin must have guessed this, and long before his
plate was empty, had heaped it again. Vinzi thought he had never eaten
anything better than the steaming potatoes and the lovely yellow cheese.
Now and again the wife would say, "Pour out some more milk for the boy.
He must be thirsty after all the wind and dust on that long trip."
Suddenly there arose a great hubbub, with loud huzzas and much whip
cracking.
"It is the boys," explained his Cousin Lorenz; "they have brought the
cattle. I must go out and help them. But perhaps you would like to come
out and see the cattle and the stable?"
"Let him rest tonight," said Josepha. "Tomorrow, he can start the day
with the boys."
"I only asked because boys always like to be around when there is
something going on," her husband replied. "But Vinzi is free to do as
he likes."
"Then I'd like to stay here," chose Vinzi.
It pleased her that Vinzi was glad to stay indoors, and first of all,
he must have another cup of milk for she declared it was needed to lay
the last dust of the journey.
Then she seated herself comfortably in her chair, saying, "Now tell me
about your people and how things are going at home."
Vinzi needed no second invitation for he had been thinking about what
his mother would be doing then, wondering how Stefeli was faring alone
in the pasture, and how everything was getting along without him.
Now there was a great tramping outside, the door was thrown open and
a youngster about Vinzi's age came rushing in. A little chap hurried
behind him, and then a taller boy followed who evidently did not wish
to be last, for giving a quick spring, he tried to vault over the
smallest boy by lifting himself on the little fellow's shoulders. But
the sly youngster ducked down and the bigger fellow fell headlong with
a thud.
"You shouldn't come in, in such an unmannerly way, Faz," said the
mother calmly.
"Good evening, cousin!" exclaimed the eldest boy, holding out his hand
to Vinzi.
"Good evening, cousin!" called out the second boy also, and "Good
evening, cousin!" greeted the youngest, pressing up to Vinzi.
While Vinzi was shaking the proffered hands, the father had come in,
and as he sat down he said, "Well, now you must learn one another's
names, boys. Your cousin is called Vinzi. That is for Vinzenz. My three
are Joseph, Boniface and Maurus. Those are their calendar names, but
here at home we call them Jos, Faz and Russli. Now I think you had
better take your places at the table."
Now that quiet had been restored so that she could be heard, the mother
said, "As our cousins did not inform us they were sending their son
to us, we did not make ready for him. I have been thinking if he is
to sleep in the house, the storeroom will have to be emptied of the
rye and corn and all sorts of stuff. But the squeaking and scratching
of the mice might scare him. Wouldn't it be better, if I made up a
comfortable bed in the hayrick for him?"
"I will be glad to sleep in the hayrick," answered Vinzi.
"Just what I thought!" said the wife, greatly pleased that everything
upstairs could remain as it was. "You will have to have a little table,
a bench and a chest of drawers to be comfortable," she added, "and when
you have finished eating, boys, you can carry them out for him."
She bustled off, and her three sons soon followed, and as Vinzi thought
perhaps he could help, he would have gone too. But his cousin beckoned
him back, declaring his knapsack had been enough of a load for that
day; it was none too light, and hanging it on his arm, they went out to
the hayrick.
They had scarcely reached it when the three boys came hurrying along.
Jos carried the chest on his back, Faz the little table with a quilt
on top of it, Russli a bench, and the mother followed with pillow and
sheets. With an agility that clearly showed she was used to climbing
into the hayrick, she was in at the little door, ready to take one
thing after another as her husband lifted them up.
When the last had been put in, his cousin said, "Now we'll say
good-night. Inside the door is a wooden bolt, just like the one
outside. With it fastened, you are sole master of your castle."
And now his wife came down, saying, "There, everything is ready for
you. See, young cousin, down there is the brook, and that will be your
washroom. No one will disturb you. You will find a towel on your bench.
Sleep soundly!"
The three boys also wished him good-night, but Jos turned around again
to say, "Are you coming with us early in the morning, when we drive
the cows out, Vinzi? And will you stay with us all day while we are
herding?"
"Why, of course," answered Vinzi, "but you must tell me which cows I
have to watch most carefully. Will you wake me so I am not late?"
"Yes, I'll call good and loud through the round air hole," promised Jos.
Now Vinzi was alone. He climbed up to his little door and looked into
the hayrick. There in one corner on a high soft pile of hay, his bed
was made. Beside it, the hay had been pushed away to make room for the
little table and bench, and the chest stood against the wall. It was a
most comfortable little room. But he could not go to sleep yet, for he
was quite excited with all the experiences of the day.
[Illustration]
Sitting on the beam which formed the sill of his door, he looked
outside. The heavens were studded with brilliant stars. Then the moon
rose from behind the mountains, lighting up the dark trees and meadows.
The little church beyond gleamed white and the snow-capped mountains
towering above the rocky cliffs became clearer and brighter every
minute. Vinzi's eyes grew bigger and bigger. In his great fear of what
lay ahead of him, he had seen little else than the gray stone house
on his journey. But how different was this scene from anything he had
pictured!
There was no wilderness of stones about him. The moonlight fell on a
green earth and turned the tips of the larch trees yonder to silver.
The ripple of the brook alone broke the deep silence. Vinzi listened
to the beautiful tune and the notes became fuller and fuller; he heard
whole melodies. He must have sat there a long time listening when a
sudden gust of wind blew the door against his knee and startled him out
of his dreaming.
He had never seen the stars so brilliant. The words of his mother,
how the Lord was always above him, looked down on him and heard him,
reached his heart as never before. Surely he was near Heaven there, and
he was filled with gratitude to the God who had let him find good where
he had feared only evil. His cousins had received him as a friend and
he was already quite at home with them. He wished he might sing a loud
hymn of praise out into the night, but it was too late for that; not a
candle gleamed in any of the cottages.
So he closed his little door, bolted it, and sought his bed. It was
soft and comfortable. Not a straw could prick him through the heavy
linen sheets. He gazed at the brilliant star that shone through the air
hole opposite his bed. Even when his eyelids tried to close, he opened
them to gaze again. Yes, the star still shone on him, and when he fell
asleep, it was with a wonderful melody resounding in his ears. The star
was singing to Vinzi, and he heard it in his dreams.
The next morning he was awakened by a dreadful hubbub, for his name was
being shouted by numerous voices. Stefeli, thought Vinzi, had never
made such a noise when she came to wake him. But then he suddenly saw
where he was and knew the voices that kept shouting louder and louder.
Perhaps they had been calling for a long time. Hastily stepping into
his clothes, he threw his door open and leaped down among his noisy
cousins.
"Hurry up! Come along!" they chorused.
Vinzi replied that he had not washed yet so they should go along and he
would follow. The two elder boys ran off, but Russli went to the stream
with him, saying confidentially, "You don't need to wash; no one will
ever notice it."
"No, Russli," objected Vinzi. "One must wash every morning. Besides, it
makes one feel better. Oh, the lovely cool water!" And Vinzi knelt down
by the brook and splashed the clear water over his face time and time
again, and then drank one handful after the other.
Now he looked so fresh and happy that Russli, full of the pleasure of
imitation, said, "I'll wash with you tomorrow morning, and drink too.
I'll do it every day."
When they reached the house, the cousin and his wife were still at the
breakfast table. Both gave Vinzi a friendly greeting, and Josepha set a
large cup of coffee before him, suggesting that he eat plenty of bread
with it, for the fresh mountain breeze would soon make him hungry.
When his Cousin Lorenz rose from the table, Vinzi followed him out to
the stable where Jos and Faz were cracking their whips as a sign they
were ready. Their father now released the cows one after the other and
the procession started off to the pasture which lay a considerable
distance beyond the chapel. Russli walked beside Vinzi and held him
firmly by the hand, trying to hold him back as much as he could.
Jos and Faz had all they could do to keep the cows on the roadway and
to urge them along, for fresh grass tempted them now to one side, now
to the other.
"Let me go, Russli," said Vinzi, pressing forward. "Can't you see I
must help your brothers with the cows?"
"You had better keep Russli in order," called out Faz. "That will be
helping us most. The little chap is always tickling the cows with his
switch so they scatter in all directions and we can scarcely control
them. He is a mischievous little mite, and you'd better hang on to
him," and as the obstinate cow with which he had been struggling
decided to move on, Faz ran ahead to the herd.
"Vinzi," said Russli, quite happy that he could have his cousin all to
himself, "have you a knife?"
"Why, yes, of course. I need one."
"Then I'll show you a great bush that makes fine switches. Strong ones,
you know; not brittle. Will you cut me a few?"
"What do you want a switch for?" asked Vinzi. "I hope you do not want
to whip the cows. You heard what Faz told me about you."
"Oh, I only tease them a little," said Russli. "Then they jump up in
the air and are awfully funny."
"But it's not funny for them," answered Vinzi. "They jump from fright.
Those thin switches hurt, and I'll cut none for you. But I will make
something else if the wood is the right kind. Show me the bush."
Russli ran eagerly ahead and soon turned off the road across a pasture,
until he reached a large bush whose branches grew straight up into the
air.
"Here!" he called to Vinzi.
Highly pleased with the bush, Vinzi began to cut the branches he liked
best, and when he had a bunch of them, he said, "Now, come along, we
must go over to your brothers. Do you know where they are? I can't see
them any more. Then I will do the cutting for you."
Russli ran along, followed by Vinzi, who suddenly paused to exclaim,
"Oh, how lovely it is here! But when do we get to the pasture?"
"We are in the pasture now," said Russli.
Vinzi looked around him. Here and there stood tall, dark larches,
through whose delicate branches one could glimpse the blue of the
heavens above. Beneath their feet stretched the lovely green of the
mountain pasture land, brightened by the fiery red alpine roses which
grew amongst the moss-covered stones. A full mountain stream rushed
along its course, and the rocks that hindered its passage tossed it
high into snow white foam. So this was the pasture!
Vinzi saw the cows a short distance away peacefully browsing beneath
the trees. The sunlight fell through the trees on the glowing flowers
and sparkled on the stream's clear waters. The mountain breeze started
the shadows playing under the larches, and called forth a soft singing
in their branches.
The tuneful rustling seemed to swell, then to die away in the distance.
Vinzi stood motionless, gazing and listening.
"When will you begin cutting what you promised?" asked Russli at last
when his patience was entirely exhausted.
"Yes, I'm coming," said Vinzi, as though waking out of a dream.
Vinzi now ran off to where the cows grazed and looked about for his
cousins. Across the road was a very large treeless pasture in which
browsed many cattle. A small group of young herders were bending over
a smoking spot on the ground. Jos and Faz were among them, Vinzi saw
that. He called out to Jos with all his might, but in vain for some
time, but as soon as Jos heard him he came over to him.
"Come over to us, Vinzi," he called as he ran up. "We are making a
fire, or rather a smoke. One of the boys has found a hole, and there is
an animal in it, perhaps a marmot. We think we can smoke it out. Come
along, it is real fun."
"No, I would rather not," replied Vinzi who found no pleasure in seeing
a frightened little animal jump out of its hole, with boys to chase it
and frighten it more.
"Besides, I have promised Russli to go back immediately. I want to ask
you something. Do you think your father would mind if I cut a pipe for
Russli?"
"Mind? What are you thinking about? I don't see any reason why he
should!" exclaimed Jos. "You can be sure father will not be displeased
and we will be only too glad if you keep the little mischief away. He
makes the cows so wild we are kept busy running after them."
"But ought I not to help you with the herding?" asked Vinzi. "May I
just sit and cut pipes?"
"You will help us that way more than any other," declared Jos.
Vinzi was highly pleased over this division of labor, and hurried back
to Russli. Seating himself on a mossy stone where the reddish-purple
violets perfumed the air, he selected a branch, and cut it off where it
started to grow more slender, and began to work on the thicker piece.
"What is it going to be when it is finished?" asked Russli, who looked
on with deep interest.
"It will be a pipe," answered Vinzi.
In happy astonishment, Russli pressed closer to the carver so as to
lose nothing of the process of this marvelous work. He knew the little
reed pipes that broke so quickly, but he had never seen such a long,
thick wooden pipe.
Vinzi had discovered much since he made his first pipe. Now he cut
several small holes, for that way he could get several notes. But it
took much time, for it was not easy to bore the little round holes, and
Vinzi was very exact in his work. Several hours were spent on it, for
between times Vinzi stopped to listen to the way the wind sang through
the tall trees and to the murmur of the stream, sometimes one of joy,
sometimes one of gentle complaint. Then too, he paused to breathe in
the perfume of the violets. But at last he closed his knife and said,
"There, Russli, take it; your pipe is ready."
With flashing eyes the happy boy put the pipe to his mouth and blew a
high, piercing shriek. Russli himself was frightened at it.
Handing over the instrument to Vinzi, he said, "Now you play on it,"
but at that moment there resounded a shrill whistle and then another.
Clearly it was a call.
"It is time to eat," explained Russli. "That's the way they always
whistle when we are to gather for lunch. Come along!"
"A pipe! Look at my pipe!" he called out to his brothers as he drew
near where they were already sitting on the grass eating. When Russli
saw this, he looked searchingly around, then ran to where his lunch-bag
lay, and quickly pulling out what was meant for him, held it out to
Vinzi.
"Here, take it," said he. "This is yours; the others have already taken
theirs."
As soon as Jos had finished eating, he called out from where he sat,
"Here, Russli, give me the pipe, I want to try it."
"Come and get it then," said Russli drily.
Vinzi had jumped up to take it over to Jos, but evidently he had a
feeling that if he wanted it, it was for him to fetch it, and he
quickly came up, as did Faz also, who called out, "Show it to me too."
But Jos was already holding it to his mouth and warded Faz off. Jos
knew something about how the fingers had to be placed on the holes in
order to produce different notes, and he succeeded, though they were
very discordant and harsh.
"You do not know how! Just give it to me!" cried Faz, grabbing the
pipe, but in his hands it shrilled and screeched.
"It looks so pretty," said Jos with regret. "We have never been able to
make so nice a one, but it does not sound well."
Taking the pipe from Faz, Vinzi said, "I will give it a trial myself,"
and began to play a little tune.
The notes followed one another so clearly, so beautifully, they all
stood spellbound, and when Vinzi stopped, Jos exclaimed eagerly, "Oh,
you play it well. Teach me!"
"Me too," added Faz.
"And me too," shouted little Russli.
"Give me the pipe," urged Jos.
"No, give it to me," demanded Faz.
But Russli had grabbed his property and ran away, fearing the stronger
boys would rob him of it.
"Let him have it," said Vinzi, "and I will make each of you one."
The promise quieted the brothers but no amount of calling could bring
Russli back, and finally Vinzi had to run after him, to persuade him he
would not lose his valuable property. Now the boys seated themselves
in a close circle for all wanted to see how Vinzi did it. He was kept
playing on and on, everything he knew, and when he had no more tunes,
he made up melodies from the sound of the bells and the song of the
birds he had heard.
As he played on, his audience had grown, for the boys from the other
pastures had waited in vain for Faz and Jos and one after another had
come seeking them. Once there, they tarried, for the music pleased them
all, and the afternoon slipped away unnoticed.
Suddenly one of the crowd called out, "It's six o'clock! I hear the
horn!"
They quickly scattered, but one after another called back to Vinzi,
"Bring it tomorrow! Bring it with you tomorrow!"
[Illustration: WHEN VINZI STOPPED, JOS EXCLAIMED, "TEACH ME!"]
It was now necessary for Jos and Faz to hurry to drive their cows
together and set off on the homeward journey, and as Jos was in full
run for his cattle, he called:
"Vinzi, keep the little chap with you on the way home; that will be
helping us."
When they approached the house, they saw the father standing in the
doorway waiting to receive them. When they came near, he called out,
"Well, how did you get along the first day, young cousin? How do you
like our pasture?"
"A pipe, look at my pipe!" lustily shouted Russli. "Here, take it,
father, it sounds lovely."
"Look there, the boys are coming with the cattle," said the father
before whose eyes Russli held the pipe. "Go and show it to your mother.
I'll soon come in."
"I love it in the pasture," Vinzi was able to say at last. "It is so
lovely up there under the trees, the day was gone before we knew it."
"Yes, and Vinzi helped us a lot," added Jos, who had joined them. "We
got on the move with the cows ten times quicker than we usually do, and
they have been so quiet all day, and grazed as they have not done for a
long while. I wish Vinzi could stay with us all the time!"
"I am glad to hear that!" exclaimed his father. "That's a good start.
Let us hope you will always get along well together."
He went to the stable with his boys and Vinzi followed, thinking his
cousin would be pleased if he wished to help.
"What can I do?" he asked him from the stable door.
"We'll be through soon," replied his cousin, busily milking. "But if
you would like to look around the barn and stable, you may do so."
Vinzi stepped out into the twilight and watched the setting sun tip
the mountain cliffs and dark spruces with gold. Then the chapel bell
sounded so sweetly that it filled him with delight and he stood
motionless long after the glow had paled and the sound of the bell had
died away.
"Hello!" cried a voice behind him, while he received a resounding slap
on the back and was dragged over to the pump where there was a great
washing and splashing every evening before the boys went into the house.
"Are you awake again?" asked Faz who had done the tugging, fully
believing that Vinzi had fallen asleep in the path.
"Yes, and your fists woke him up before he reached the water," said
Jos. "Isn't that so, Vinzi?"
"Indeed yes," answered Vinzi, "but I had much rather he should seize
hold of me than that he should tell your father I fell asleep in the
path. I really was not asleep."
"Faz doesn't carry tales; he just strikes a blow," said Jos
comfortingly.
And now to the house, with Faz in the lead. The mother was waiting for
them at the table, patiently enduring the noise Russli was making with
his pipe.
"That sounds like a dying cat," remarked Faz as he entered.
"Don't laugh at him the first time he tries," said his mother. "He is
playing quite cleverly for a little boy. He has just been praising you,
he says you have not cuffed him once today."
"He only gets a cuff when he deserves it," remarked Faz. "He was good
today because Vinzi held the reins. I hope he stays with us."
The other three now came in and Russli darted to his father with the
cry, "Now for the pipe!"
"No, no, Russli, first supper and then the pipe," said his father,
seating himself. "You see, when I was a boy I cut pipes too and had
great times playing on them. So I must have a look at your pipe and see
if I can still play."
Russli was satisfied with this, for he smelled the hot corn-cakes his
mother was now serving and he eagerly attacked his plate.
When the mother had cleared away the supper things, the father said,
"Well, now bring me the pipe and let us hear what it sounds like."
Russli was a bit sleepy after his feast of corn-cakes, but the fear
that Faz might snatch the pipe from him to carry it to his father and
afterward keep it for himself brought him to his feet.
"For heaven's sake, what are you bringing me?" asked his father, taking
the long pipe and examining it closely. "That is no ordinary pipe. It
is a real shawm with all the necessary holes."
Lifting it to his lips, he brought forth something that sounded almost
like a tune.
"Father can do better the first time than any of us after we had tried
many times," said Jos in astonishment. "But Vinzi can do better than
father."
"Then we will listen to him," said his father, handing Vinzi the pipe.
Vinzi remembered one little tune better than all others, and he had
played it fully ten times that day for the boys. Alida had taught it
to him. He played it now, and as he came to the end there was intense
silence for a moment.
"Yes, he can play differently than I," admitted his cousin. "I wonder
who taught him."
"That was lovely!" sighed his wife, quite overcome. "I would like our
musician to play a hymn that we could all sing."
"And I can," said Vinzi, "because mother sings a hymn with us every
evening at home. What shall I play?"
"Can you play 'I Sing to You with Heart and Mouth?'" she asked.
Yes, Vinzi knew it well, and after seeking a little for the right
pitch, played with assurance. The mother sang well and her husband
joined in with a strong bass, and suddenly Jos lifted his fine voice.
Faz growled after his father, then jumped to his mother's high notes,
and Russli squeaked in between. But the other voices were so strong,
that these false notes did not disturb the song. Mrs. Lesa was so
delighted that she begged for another song directly the first was
finished, and then another and another.
The cousin was highly pleased and declared, "That was a splendid
entertainment and we will have another tomorrow. It is a good thing to
praise God with beautiful music."
When Vinzi went to his hayrick, his heart was so full of thanksgiving
that he sat in the doorway a long time looking up into the sky with its
myriad of stars.
"Oh, how beautiful it is here, and it grows more lovely! To praise God
with music is something beautiful, Cousin Lorenz said and tomorrow we
will do it again, and so every day," said Vinzi to himself.
His pipe had pleased his cousin, and that thought added to Vinzi's
happiness. It seemed as though he must sing aloud, that to do so would
only be joining in the great song of praise that sounded all around
him, from the twinkling stars, the gleaming chapel, the gurgling stream
and the golden moon sailing so majestically above the towering crags.
The pungent perfume of the hay was lifted by the night wind, and it
was that which at last roused Vinzi. The night had grown cool, and he
quickly closed his door and sought his comfortable bed.
From that day on, there was music in Lorenz Lesa's house every evening.
One might have supposed it was the chief work of the day. In fact, the
toil of the day was really behind the singers and so they could enter
into the pleasure of their leisure hours with special joy. It was
Vinzi's particular delight to see that his Cousin Lorenz and his wife
Josepha were the ones who longed most for the music.
Every night at supper she would say, "I suppose Vinzi will soon begin
to play," and after the regular time had been given to music, her
husband would suggest, "It's not too late for another little song, is
it?" For now that he had started to sing again, he kept recalling the
songs he had sung in his youth, and if Vinzi did not know them, all
he did was to sing them over several times and then Vinzi could play
them perfectly. The others would follow his piping, and so learn the
tune. This afforded Lorenz immense satisfaction, and after an evening
so spent, he would shake Vinzi's hand and say, "Your music makes a
fellow feel quite young again. Your shawm pipes the joy of youth into
my heart."