CHAPTER XI.
LORETZ ON THE TROMBONE.
Later in the afternoon, toward sunset, Leonhard left the gardens and walked slowly down the street, taking cognizance of all things in his way. He noticed that Taste had taken Haste in hand in many a place, and that already attempts were evident to repair and amend or construct anew. What might not be done toward making a paradise of such a place under the encouragement of a man like Albert Spener? But a probationer! That meant, Say that you will present yourself to Moravian brethren as a candidate for admission to their fellowship. He smiled at the thought, but when he considered the opportunities of work Spener would put in his way, he began to look grave. Of course he must give up his music: it was no profession for him, and he saw that it was folly and weakness to attempt the service of two masters; and yet he will go back and talk with Mrs. Anna about Herrnhut and old Leonhard Marten. Just here comes the sound of a trombone cleaving the air.
It startles him, and it startles others also. "Who is gone?" he hears one man ask another from his place in the garden; and he understands that the trombone has made an announcement to the people of Spenersberg. How the notes wind along, a noble stream of solemn sound!
"Who is gone home?" he hears another ask, but again there is no answer.
He sees a group of children stopping in the midst of their play and looking at each other with scared faces—one little one suddenly hiding its face in its mother's apron, as if in the shrinking shyness and awe of apprehension.
As he approaches his destination a ghostlike face and figure startles Leonhard: he looks back and sees it is "our little minister, Wenck," whom Spener had pointed out to him in their morning walk. He is hurrying down the street, and it is not likely that any one will stop a man proceeding at such a rate, with questions.
Loretz stands on his piazza with his trombone in his hand: it is he who blows that blast which echoes through Spenersberg, announcing a death.
Doubting what the signal means, Leonhard, with a little hesitation, approaches his host and looks for the information he does not ask. Is it a calamity that has overtaken the house? One could hardly gather from a glance at Mr. Loretz. Evidently the stout little man has been moved by some powerful surprise: his eyes are full of agitation; his dress betokens it; he has been driven to and fro, distracted, within the hour. When he sees Leonhard his excitement exhibits itself in a new form: he lifts the trombone to his lips, and taking another key he sounds again; it is a note of solemn triumph, so prolonged that it would seem as if the desire was that all space should be filled with the echoes thereof.
Leonhard sits down on one of the large wooden chairs in the piazza to enjoy the music: then Loretz comes to him and says, "You have heard it?"