Vinzi stood still in silent rapture when the tones had died away.
“Oh, that was beautiful, much more beautiful than our music,” he said, quite carried away with the beautiful sounds.
“It was your song, boy, and I did not have to add much,” said the monk kindly. “Come nearer; have you never before heard such an instrument?”
“No,” answered Vinzi, after stepping quite near to the harmonium. “But I have heard a piano.”
The monk asked Vinzi what music he had heard on the piano and Vinzi related the story of the short music lessons which he had enjoyed so much.
Stroking Vinzi’s curly hair a few times, the monk smiled sympathetically. Then he asked, “Do you think you would get pleasure from learning how to play my instrument?”
Vinzi hardly knew if he had heard aright, he was so thrilled. With glowing eyes he looked silently at the monk.
“Well, I suppose you mean yes.”
“A thousand times yes,” Vinzi finally was able to say.
“Good! Tell your uncle Lorenz about it and let me know tomorrow morning what he says. If he doesn’t object, we can play a little every morning.”