"There are no more young hearts," said Jacob.
"What remains then for those who thirst for life?"
"Nothing," replied the Dane quickly, in a serious tone; "only to drink."
"And afterward?"
"Afterward? That depends on the temperament; to sleep or"--
During this conversation, the evening breeze brought from a neighbouring house the sound of sweet music, now gay, now sad. They all listened. It was not Italian music. A young and sympathetic voice sang, accompanied by the piano. The song was of profound sadness, rendered with good expression and method.
The Italian instantly recognized an inspiration of Mendelssohn. He took off his hat, and listened with an expression of pleasure. He took a few steps, and, with a sign, demanded silence.
In contrast to the light songs of Italy, full of harmony, this song was full of grave majesty. For the Italian who had not heard much German music it was a revelation.
The mysterious chords, coming from an unknown window, from an invisible mouth, had a fascinating charm and a melodious sadness, which made a lively impression. The woman's voice came from a house near the Academy of Medicine, and was carried to our hearers by the indiscreet breeze.
"It is fine," said the Dane, "but it is somewhat like the music of the future."