“Certainly, it must have been I, since no one else but ourselves is at present in the church,” replied Ludwig.
“But,” said the man in amazement, and looking somewhat doubtfully at the short, thick-set figure of Beethoven, “does Monsieur say that he can play the organ?”
“Certainly,” replied Ludwig; “I could easily convince you if only there were a blower at hand who was willing to serve me.”
“I am the organ-blower,” said the man, shaking his head and still somewhat doubtful. “If you are really in earnest about playing the organ I will right gladly offer my service.”
“That is fine, perfectly splendid,” cried Ludwig exultantly. “To your post, worthy colleague. We will both take the utmost pains and each one of us do his best.”
Still dubiously and suspiciously shaking his head, the organ-blower took his place, but left the door ajar so that no tone of the young man’s playing should escape him. Ludwig seated himself, struck the keys with his strong hands, and evoked from the splendid instrument a stream, a full volume of tones, such as had never been heard in the church before. Majestically they rang through the church like the thunder of the Lord. Then suddenly there were soft and gentle tones like the vibrations of the harp, a heavenly melody, sung as it were by the voices of angels, anon pealing out grandly in a majestic hymn, like a song of praise from the heavens and the earth, glorifying the Eternal, the only God, the Almighty Creator of heaven and earth. Powerful as the solemn tones had been, they died away again to a soft and lovely piano, until at the close the last sound exhaled itself like a breath and seemed softly to disappear among the lofty columns of the choir.
Beethoven, who had sat like one entranced during his wonderful playing, and had looked upwards with fixed, wide-open eyes, now came to himself, wiped the perspiration from his heated brow, and drew a deep sigh.
“Young man, who taught you to play like that?” said a man in the dress of the order, advancing out of the dusk of the organ-loft. “Truly, you play magnificently. I have never heard such execution before. Who taught you this?”
“I taught myself,” Beethoven replied curtly and somewhat aggressively.
“Then be doubly greeted and doubly welcome, noble disciple of the art, who sometime will make a high and mighty eagle’s flight,” said the monk with deep earnestness as he grasped the young man’s hand. “Turn not away from me. I am also a member of the great guild which has devoted its lifework to Mistress Musica. I am the Father Organist of the abbey, and hence I am qualified to appreciate and admire your wonderful art.”