"They pulled up their horses and listened" (silence), "and listened" (silence), "but heard no pursuing feet. So, dismounting, they turned their horses loose to nibble at will, and jaded by hours of reckless riding, the robbers threw themselves upon the green turf to rest. The scents of the flowers were sweet, the grass was deep and soft, the leaves overhead rustled, rustled, rustled, and ere long, in the cool of the summer's dawn, the weary robbers—fell—asleep."
So quietly had Frédéric spoken, so softly had he played as he described the woodland sounds, that, gently touching the final chord, he discovered, by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, that twenty-four boys, like the tired robbers, were fast asleep.
"Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep."
Stealing from the room on tiptoe, he summoned his sisters and the servants to bring in lights; then stepping to the piano, he struck one crashing chord.
As though a bomb had exploded among them, the boys started from their slumbers, rubbing their eyes and staring stupidly at one another.
At that moment the clock chimed the hour of dismissal, and Nicholas Chopin entered the room; whereupon the pupils bounded from their seats with shouts of laughter over the musical spell that Frédéric had cast upon them.
When the cups and plates went round, the new teacher drew the master into the hall and told him how cleverly Frédéric had helped him to maintain order; but in the schoolroom the lads were waving their sandwiches and napkins, and cheering the master's son as a jolly comrade and a true-blue mate.
>The city of Warsaw adored its composer, Frédéric Chopin. The residents detected hidden meanings in his playing of the piano which they believed would sometime be accepted beyond the realm of Poland.