"I have watched you for a long while," said the stranger.
"You might have done better," returned the lad, reddening at the thought of having been subjected to espionage.
"Peace, boy," said his companion; "I love you, and have done all for your good."
"You love me?" repeated Louis, surprised. "I have never met you before."
"Yet I know you well. Does that surprise you? I know your thoughts also. You love music better than aught else in the world; but you despair of excellence because you cannot follow the rules prescribed."
Louis looked at the speaker with open eyes.
"Your masters also despair of you. The court-organist accuses you of conceit and obstinacy; your father reproaches you; and all your acquaintance pronounce you a boy of tolerable abilities, spoiled by an ill disposition."
The lad sighed.
"The gloom of your condition increases your distaste to all studies not directly connected with music, for you feel the need of her consolations. Your compositions, wild, melancholy as they are, embody your own feelings, and are understood by none of the connoisseurs."
"Who are you?" cried Louis in deep emotion.