VINZI, TAKING UP HIS PIPE, HAD BEGUN TO PLAY A MELODY
Vinzi, taking up his pipe, had begun to play a melody.
It pleased his listener so much that he had to repeat it straightway. As soon as he had finished it the second time the grandfather said, “That was a beautiful thing. Was it a hymn?”
“Yes,” said Vinzi.
“How did you learn that? Boys usually whistle quite different tunes. Where did you find it?” the old man wanted to know.
“I didn’t find it. I play the tune as I hear it sung. Mother sings such a song with us at home every night,” Vinzi declared.
“Do you know more like that?” the grandfather inquired.
“Oh yes, lots more,” Vinzi assured him.
“I’d love to know if you could play me a song I heard only once in my life. I would give a great deal if I could hear it again. But all I know about it is the refrain at the end of each verse; perhaps you could recognize it from that.”
“It would be better if you could sing me parts of it,” said Vinzi.