"To Hamburg!" echoed the housekeeper. "Hamburg is a long way from Berlin; you could not bear such a journey."
But the old man soon forgot his purpose. He resumed his wanderings through the streets of Berlin—his practice before he met with Theodore—stopping to listen whenever he heard music. He would sometimes go into the houses where concerts were given; and all who remembered him were glad to see "the Old Musician" once more.
One evening as he walked about the streets, he stopped to listen to music sounding from the windows of an illuminated palace. He went up the steps and was going in; but the porter, a Swiss, pushed him rudely back. So he stood without in the cold and cutting night wind, and listened, his whole soul absorbed in the music.
A servant in livery came out, and ran against him. "Ha!" he exclaimed in surprise; "is that you, Old Musician? How long it is since I have seen you. Why do you stand there shaking in the cold?"
"Monsieur Swiss would not let me pass," answered the old man.
"Monsieur Swiss is an idiot! Come in with me, old friend; you shall thaw your old limbs, and have some refreshment. My lord gives a grand concert." To the porter he said, "You must always let in the Old Musician; my lord has given orders that it shall be so. He comes to enjoy the music."
He led the old man to a seat near the fire in one of the ante-rooms, and drew a folding screen before him. "You are out of view here," he said; "but you can hear every thing. I will bring you a glass of wine."
All that evening the old man listened to music that thrilled his inmost heart. It was late when the concert ended. Then the man who had brought him in, came and told him it was time to go, offering to send a boy home with him.
"That was admirable music," said the old man drawing a deep breath.
"It was," replied the servant. "All you heard was composed by the same master, who is staying with my lord at present."