As Vinzi took it, the grandfather continued, "Now I have something more to say. Jos, you know the cellar. Go, bring me the cheese which has been cut and one of the large loaves of bread. Vinzi will go with you, for it will be too heavy for you to carry alone. Take it out to the boys who sang to me. They are sure to be on the pasture. You have given me a feast; now hold one for yourselves. Take a cup from the kitchen and take turns drinking. Xaver will milk."
The grandfather always called Vereli by his surname Xaver, for the boy's father and grandfather, his own first-born son, had been called by the same name.
The two boys ran off to carry out his commission, and their burdens made them pant as they came up the steep cellar stairs. In spite of that, they hurried off with happy faces.
"Come back again, boys," said the grandfather, as they held out their hands in grateful farewell. "Make another happy Sunday for me."
The pair really did find the singers on the great open pasture space, and the Tower Boys were with them. Shouts of joy welcomed the laden messengers, and the whole crowd quickly sat down on the grass and the feast started, for boys have astonishing appetites, and many of those from the little cottages had only potatoes for their daily fare.
Vinzi sat down behind the boys for he wished to be alone, to read the words of the song. Would the melody he had heard so clearly fit itself to the words? On drawing out the paper, he found the writing so plain it was very easy to read and he read the words over and over again. Suddenly such a longing gripped him that he could not sit there any longer. He must go up to the field of roses, to listen to the melody and to sing it to himself. He slipped quietly away from the boys who were engrossed in their eating and drinking and ran up the mountain until he reached the sunny field. Seating himself in his former place, alpine roses on every side of him, he pulled out the paper again and read:
Behold on high in beaming sun
The glowing clouds like roses,
No thorns to mar the beauty there,
No other flower can compare
To that glowing as of roses.
In beaming sun as in delight
Foams the cascade from rocky height,
Garbed in a cloak of spotless white,
Dauntless and shimmering in its flight
Foams the cascade from rocky height.
In beaming sun in glowing rays,
How proudly stand those peaks!
While mortals frail oft go astray
And soon, alas, must pass away,
Forever stand those peaks.
Within the glow of beaming sun
How soon all sorrows cease!
Oh, valley-dwellers, 'tis Heaven's call,
Will ye not hearken one and all?
For there your sorrows cease.
It was so late that night when Vinzi came running down the mountain that he found the entire family had gathered in front of the house to watch for his coming. Jos had returned several hours before and had told how the grandfather had enjoyed the singing and had shown his hospitality by providing a feast, and how Vinzi had suddenly disappeared from the pasture where they had eaten it.
"Vinzi, Vinzi!" his cousin called out as he saw him coming. "We had almost begun to believe you had run away."
"I certainly never would do that!" Vinzi assured him, all out of breath. "I was sitting up there among the alpine roses and entirely forgot the time."