The other smiled, with his slow, generous eyes fixed on the boy's face.
"Thou art a good boy, Erdman!" ... "It is only thy fingers that itch to
know things." He patted them gently, where they lay on the grass beside
him.
Erdman was still looking at the book. "Was it your brother's?" he asked
in a half whisper.
"Christoph's?" Sebastian shook his head. "No, it is mine--my own."
The soft wind was among the blossoms overhead--they fell in petals, one
by one, upon the quiet figures.
"Want to know 'bout it?" asked Sebastian, half turning to meet his
companion's eye.
The boy nodded.
"It's mine. I copied it, every note--six months it took me--from
Christoph's book."
"Did he let you?"
Sebastian shook his head, a grim, sweet smile curving the big mouth.
"Let me?--Christoph!"