The girl blushed, and the young man appeared annoyed. "I also heard something of what you said," continued Beethoven. "Shall I play for you? Shall I give you a concert?"
Beethoven's manner was so friendly and his voice so kindly that a smile took the place of the frown on the young man's face. The four, who but a moment ago were strangers, became friends at once.
"Thank you," said the shoemaker, "but our harpsichord is so poor and we have no music."
"No music," echoed Beethoven. "How then does the young lady play so—" He stopped suddenly, for the girl turned her face toward him, and for the first time he saw that she was blind.
"I beg your pardon," he stammered, "but I had not noticed before. Then you play by ear?"
"Yes, entirely," the girl answered.
"And where do you hear music, since you attend no concerts?" asked Beethoven.
"I used to hear a lady practicing near us. During the summer evenings her windows were often open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen."
The girl seemed shy, so Beethoven said no more. He seated himself quietly before the harpsichord and began to play. Never before had Beethoven played as he played that night for the blind girl and her brother. From the moment that his fingers began to wander over the keys, the very tone of the instrument seemed to grow sweeter.
The brother and sister were silent with wonder. The young man laid aside his work, and the girl sat perfectly quiet. She leaned forward a little as if afraid lest she might miss a single note of the sweet music.