Giving his hand to the boys, Pater Silvanus, after saying a kind word to each of them in turn, opened the door and let them out, and they strolled gaily down the mountain-side. Vinzi was walking in a perfect dream beside his companions, who were both talking with animation. He kept on hearing Pater Silvanus’ words, “Would you get pleasure from learning how to play my instrument?” Give him pleasure? It was a happiness he could hardly comprehend.
Vereli had turned off and gone back to the tower without Vinzi’s noticing it, and before long the other two were home. During supper time Jos related to his parents how friendly Pater Silvanus had been and what he had proposed to do for Vinzi, if his father did not object.
“Of course not,” said the latter at once, “I am glad that Vinzi has the chance to learn something fine.”
Early next morning Vinzi came to Pater Silvanus and repeated his uncle’s words with a radiant face.
“Then let us begin at once,” said the monk, leading the boy to the great room with the harmonium.
These lessons differed considerably from Alida’s, and the teacher seemed to forget the time as much as his pupil. One hour and a second hour had gone by, when the sudden sound of a bell reminded Pater Silvanus how late it really was. Quickly closing his instrument and giving the boy his hand, he said, “We’ll go on tomorrow, but be sure to come as early as today.”
Vinzi went away so filled with happiness that he must run right over to the grandfather and tell him all the wonderful and unexpected things that had happened to him. No one could have been able to share his joy better than the grandfather, who was as pleased as if it had all happened to him.
Vinzi told of everything that the Pater had already explained and taught him, and he did not leave without giving his solemn promise often to bring reports of his progress and at the same time pipe the old man a little song. A glorious succession of days followed for Vinzi, and the further Pater Silvanus took him the more his burning desire grew to get still further. Pater Silvanus himself seemed to find pleasure in the lessons, for he taught his pupil every morning, and sometimes the lessons lasted fully three hours. When the monk had to leave for other duties, he let Vinzi stay and practice what he had prepared with him. The boy sat many an hour in the quiet house. No noise ever interrupted him, and the time flew by unnoticed. When the sun finally slanted across the harmonium through a certain window, he knew that evening was near. Quickly shutting the instrument, he noiselessly went down the long corridor and out to the road. This gave him time enough to visit the grandfather and find his cousins and their comrades still gathered together. He was greeted with fresh enthusiasm every time. A chorus of various frightful noises always followed his arrival, because every owner of a pipe wanted to show him what he had learned to play. Vinzi could not help wondering at the number of boys who owned pipes since he had left the pasture. The boys had possibly found out how to make them themselves.
His bargain with Russli had been firmly kept. Every morning going up or in the evening coming home the little one was inseparable from Vinzi.
“Russli, you have enough pipes now,” said Vinzi one day while he was wandering home with his little comrade behind the cows. He had just delivered his daily pipe and added: “In all this time you should have learnt not to tickle the cows, Russli, without always expecting a reward.”