“But, my dear Mrs. Lesa, all this clearly shows that your boy has an ear for music and a real devotion to it, together with natural talent,” Mr. Thornau said eagerly. “Did you never think of having his talent developed? The boy and you, too, might reap the greatest happiness that way.”
“I do not know what the gentleman means,” answered Mrs. Lesa with a questioning look.
“What I mean? Your boy might be sent to a music school where they could judge his talent. He could study there. It takes years, of course, but what of that? If he turns out to be a finished musician he would be happy and satisfied, and you, too, of course.”
“That’s nothing for Vinzi,” said Mrs. Lesa deliberately. “His father would not consent. He would never let his only son leave home for years and years. He would not let him live among strangers for such a reason, and it would be altogether too uncertain a future for the boy.”
“Isn’t the world strange?” exclaimed Mr. Thornau. “Just look at my boy! He is my only son, too. He only needs to say what he wants and I give it to him. He may study what he pleases, and it makes me happy to let him. But what do you think? If I ask him, ‘Would you like riding horseback?’ he answers, ‘No, I’d rather not.’ Should I ask him if he wants to learn to play the violin, or the piano, or the flute, all he says is, ‘No, I’d rather not.’ ‘Would you like to become a sailor and go far across the sea into foreign countries?’ He always says, ‘Oh, no, father, I’d rather not,’ and that is the answer I get every time. I cannot help being envious of your son who has such a decided inclination for music.”
Mrs. Lesa had watched Hugo for quite a while through the open window. Leaning against a tree, he was staring indifferently before him. The two girls in the meanwhile were playing tag, shrieking violently whenever they were caught, and then eagerly beginning again.
“He probably is not very strong,” she said sympathetically. “He looks pale and thin. He would get stronger if he could live a while on the pasture.”
“Yes, I suppose that would do him good,” replied Mr. Thornau. “He never was very hardy and now he seems more frail than ever. Since my wife was taken ill and the boy had to be separated from her, all the life seems to have gone out of him.”
“Why don’t you let him stay with his mother?” Mrs. Lesa inquired. Her voice clearly showed an interest, as if it were a matter of great importance to herself and as if her visitor were an old friend of hers.
Mr. Thornau smiled.