At this the old man opened the door a little wider and let the three boys enter. “You can wait here,” he said curtly, leaving them and going down a dim, long corridor, where they could still hear his dragging footsteps after they could not see him any more.
After a while a firm and rapid step came towards them.
“Here he comes,” said Vereli, unabashed, when the monk with a long garment stood before them and examined them with penetrating glances.
“You are one of the boys from the tower, you carry their stamp about you,” he said, turning to Vereli. “And who are your companions?”
“He belongs to Lorenz Lesa, near the chapel, and he is his cousin, Vinzi Lesa, from Leuk,” explained Vereli.
A curious smile flitted over the monk’s features at the mention of the last name. Looking at Vinzi once more, he said pleasantly, “Come with me.”
Then he led them through the long, echoing corridor, and after opening a door in the rear, bade them enter. It was a very large room with dark panelled walls, against which ancient leather chairs with high backs were ranged. In the middle of it stood a huge square table, but Vinzi could not take his eyes from an object he had noticed in a corner. It looked slightly like a high cupboard and somewhat resembled Alida’s piano, but was a trifle higher. Standing in front of the trio, the monk asked the grandfather’s wishes.
Vinzi felt that it was for him to speak. He expressed himself as willing to sing the song which the kind Father had sent him through the grandfather.
“Good, I’ll be glad to hear it,” said the monk. Upon noticing that Vinzi still hesitated, he added: “What else do you want to ask me, boy?”
“Shall I sing it or may I play?” asked Vinzi.