“WHAT IS IT, VINZI?” SHE ASKED, TERRIBLY FRIGHTENED ON HEARING HIS SOBS AND GROANS

But the boy could give her no reply.

“I am sure you have to come,” Stefeli said timidly, “If you could only stop, Vinzi. You must come to breakfast, for father is already sitting down and mother sent me for you.”

Vinzi jumped up and ran to the pump. By washing his eyes over and over again he hoped to remove the traces of his tears.

“It doesn’t matter, just come now,” Stefeli urged. “Mr. Delrick never comes down to breakfast, father doesn’t pay attention, and mother won’t say anything. Please come now.”

As the two entered, the father threw a sharp glance at Vinzi, who took his seat with a drooping head. Vinzenz Lesa pushed his half-emptied cup from him and, rising, went quickly out.

He could not stand the sight of tears, least of all from his boy, who was more precious to him than his estate. The mother gazed after him surprised.

“What is the matter with father? He didn’t even empty his cup,” she said, glancing at Vinzi, who just then raised his eyes. “But for heaven’s sake, Vinzi, what is wrong with you?” she cried, much more concerned still. “Your eyes are swollen and red. What has happened?”

Vinzi wanted to say something but could not utter a sound. Laying his head upon his arm, he burst out crying.

The mother’s face expressed the greatest anxiety as she looked at him. Stefeli quickly swallowed her milk, then ran outside.

“If only Mr. Delrick would come,” she sighed. Stefeli had noticed that whenever her parents sought his advice, affairs were usually straightened out, so she was most anxious to find him now.

Mr. Delrick had just left his room and was that moment coming downstairs.

“All ready to start?” he asked kindly, when Stefeli bounded to him and gave him her hand. “Will you take a morning walk with me?”

Stefeli had hoped for this and willingly started on her way with her desired companion. He soon heard what lay heavily on her heart; how Vinzi had red and swollen eyes from crying and the father had pushed away his cup of coffee before finishing it and had quickly gone out; also how terribly sad the mother looked, more sad than she had ever seen her.“But I am sure you can help us,” Stefeli concluded with firm conviction.

“I’ll do what I can,” Mr. Delrick promised, smilingly.

But the child’s words had made him very thoughtful; he seriously wondered if the mother’s sad supposition would be realized now. The thought worried him the more, as he had fixed upon his departure within the next few days, having planned to meet a friend at the Italian lakes.

When the two returned from their walk, matters had not improved. Vinzi had finally told his mother the words that had crushed him so completely. He thought that everything now was over, but his mother comforted him by saying that the father’s words were probably not final. If only Vinzi tried hard to stick to his work and did everything to please his father, showing in that way that he really cared for what he wanted of him, the time would surely come when he would be allowed to go back to his friends.

But Vinzi shook his head. “Father won’t ever let me go back there, for he said that I was finding pleasure in something he does not want me to do. And it’s true. I understand now what he means, and I never quite knew before.”To this the mother said nothing, for she could not help feeling that Vinzi was right. Would the boy be sent away again, and where? Her husband had another relative, an older brother, with whom he used to manage their property in Freiburg, till their old cousin in Leuk had died. Her husband had taken charge of it, as they had inherited it together. He had felt that, as the beautiful place was so badly run down, it was better to look after it himself for a number of years, if he wanted to bring it up again. Her husband’s brother was as silent and unsociable as the old cousin who used to live here had been, and he also looked quite as unkempt. Vinzenz Lesa had left a hired man on the farm, who looked after things. His brother never wanted to undertake anything new and only hoped that Vinzenz Lesa would soon return.

Mrs. Lesa knew that there had been rather odd members in the Lesa family from time to time and suddenly a new anxiety rose in her heart. If the father should really decide to send Vinzi to his father’s old farm in order to teach him interest in farm work, he naturally would find no other distractions there. Mightn’t the boy, who had always been different from other children, become more peculiar? He might in the exclusive company of his uncle get rather odd in his ways. People had told her that the old man who used to live in Leuk would sit by the hour before his barn staring straight in front of him. People used to call him Starri from Leuk.[C] Their brother in Freiburg was supposed to do the same. Such names easily become current, and as every one knew where the Lesa family originally came from, he, too, was called by the people the Starri of Leuk.

When Mrs. Lesa’s thoughts had travelled thus far, she felt still more worried. The father’s chief cause of complaint against the boy was that he always stared into the distance, not seeing and hearing what went on before his eyes. Would it be possible that her lively, splendid Vinzi should turn into the third Starri of Leuk?

Mrs. Lesa was suddenly roused from her disturbing thoughts by Stefeli’s entrance. The child told her that Mr. Delrick had already come back from his walk and was sitting in Vinzi’s room talking to the boy. Quickly she set about preparing his breakfast for as he had come back so much earlier than usual, she was not yet ready for him.Mr. Delrick knew about Vinzi’s keen passion for music as well as the father’s wishes and desires for his son’s future, with the original cause of Vinzi’s stay on the mountain. But he had not understood from Stefeli’s words what had brought on Vinzi’s tears and the father’s anger so soon after the boy’s happy return. As he took the greatest interest in the weal and woe of the Lesa family, he wished to know if he could not help them somehow. His stay in the house was to be of very short duration, that was why he had come back so soon from his stroll. He had gone to the darkly brooding Vinzi and informed him that he was planning to go to the Italian lakes and in two days would travel across the Simplon. If Vinzi had any messages for friends there, he would be glad to deliver them, as he expected to spend the night there.

For a moment a ray of sunshine flitted over Vinzi’s face.

“Are you also going to see Pater Silvanus and the grandfather?” he asked, with burning eagerness.

“I don’t know who they are,” replied Mr. Delrick. “But tell me about all your friends there and what happened to you on the mountain. Then you can tell me what messages I am to take to them.”

To be able to speak about things which were in his inmost thoughts poured balm on Vinzi’s aching heart. Mr. Delrick’s deep sympathy and understanding of his joy in his music studies with Pater Silvanus made it possible for him to tell about everything that had made him so happy on the mountain. He was willing enough to do whatever work he was set to do, Vinzi concluded, but the idea of never playing any more or hearing more music was too dreadful. He had till now always had the hope that he could spend next summer on the mountain and could then continue his lessons with Pater Silvanus, but today his father had definitely told him that he was never to go back.

The matter began to grow clearer to Mr. Delrick.

“Tell me, Vinzi,” he said, after a pause, “did the Pater urge you to keep up your music at home or did he only mean to take it up again when you went back to him?”

Vinzi reported the Pater’s injunction, also his own reply, telling how impossible this was on account of his father’s objection to it.“Would you like to learn an instrument in order to give yourself pleasure by playing, Vinzi?” said Mr. Delrick. “Did you ever think of making music your whole and only life’s work? I suppose you could not even imagine that?”

Vinzi’s eyes flamed.

“Oh, yes, I could, and I thought about it long ago, when I was on the mountain. I could imagine well how it would be,” Vinzi assured him. “I don’t only want to study an instrument, but to learn everything about music. Pater Silvanus knows everything and can explain how to put the tones together in order to make harmonious music. Also how to write down melodies one has in one’s head so people can read it again from a sheet. He had already begun to explain it all and teach me how to do it. It was so wonderful! I wouldn’t mind shoveling snow all day and working hard the way they have to do up there in winter, if only I could spend the evenings with Pater Silvanus, for he said he would keep on teaching me. Now I’ll never be allowed to go up the mountain any more, never!”

It was hard for Vinzi to suppress his newly rising grief.

“You see, Vinzi,” Mr. Delrick said kindly, “your father wants you to be happy. You know that yourself and I can absolutely assure you of it. He said the words you worry about so much because he thinks that your life on the mountain might interfere with your future happiness. Time may bring many changes, and therefore it is possible that he won’t have to keep his word. It is entirely wrong, though, for you to keep on repeating these words to yourself, for they only make you sad and take all your spirit away. Did you not find joy and happiness where you expected unhappiness? Remember that, Vinzi, and keep up your courage.”

The mother had entered meanwhile and after setting the breakfast on the table had immediately vanished. It had calmed her to hear how Mr. Delrick was speaking to her boy and how attentively the latter was listening.

“Now, Vinzi,” said Mr. Delrick rising, “pull yourself together and be glad that you are home again. Show your father a pleasant face when he comes home, and if you are willing to do what he tells you to, everything may still come right. Will you promise me to think about what I have just now said?”

This Vinzi gladly did, and when the mother entered a little later after Mr. Delrick had gone out, his eyes already were somewhat clearer.

The day went quietly by. All the inmates of the house, feeling that the happiness of the evening before had vanished, could not help being depressed. When the day was over and Vinzenz Lesa had settled as usual on his bench, his forehead lay in deep furrows. Staring at the ground, he even let his pipe go out.

Mr. Delrick now stepped up to him.

“Mr. Lesa,” he said, striking a match and offering the light to his host, “you are not in a good humor, or you would not let your pipe go out. Here, light it again.”

“Humor, you say, humor!” Lesa repeated grimly. “If one’s field is spoilt by hail, one can always hope that it will bring good fruit next year. But when a man’s only son goes from bad to worse, no hope is left him. From worse he can only go to worst, and then I suppose he can’t go any further.”

“As far as I can judge you have a very upright, well-mannered son,” said Mr. Delrick deliberately.

“Yes, he is. I don’t complain of that,” retorted Lesa. “It’s something else. What help is there when everything has been done to make him happy and he does not see it or know what is best for him. He only hankers after childish rubbish! I won’t give in till he comes to reason, even if I should have to send him across the ocean. I know of a place, though, which is quite near, where he couldn’t find any chance to keep up his foolish fancies.”

“I suppose you mean by that your son’s passion for music and his desire to devote himself to it. There might be more in it than foolish fancies, though; it might be very serious on his part,” said Mr. Delrick.

“Something serious in it!” replied the father in agitation. “It is just play, like any other. I have nothing against it, if young boys sing jolly songs in the evenings. But that is not the way he does. He sits and stares and neither sees nor hears anything, but thinks about his foolish piping. Once I found a whole heap of pipes he had carved. How could that be other than childish rubbish? And the idea of putting your thoughts on such a thing!”

“That shows that there is something serious in it,” answered Mr. Delrick. “If it were only play like any other, he would have exchanged it for something else long ago, the way boys are apt to do. His whole thinking and wishing then would not always go to the same object. His persistence in trying to make a better instrument for himself, shows how great his zeal for the matter really is. I am perfectly convinced that it is not play, but serious work with him.”

“Work! the idea of calling that work!”

To express his indignation, Vinzenz Lesa blew unusually thick clouds of smoke from his pipe.

“Music certainly can be work, and where there is real talent, it can be a splendid career,” Mr. Delrick continued. “I think you ought to let your son learn an instrument. His longing for it is so great that he would gladly do the heaviest work to have this wish gratified.”

Vinzenz Lesa put by his pipe, which was a sure sign of intense excitement.

“Sir,” he said with suppressed anger, “Vinzenz Lesa’s only son shall not be a musician. He has an estate on which he can live like a gentleman. If he wants to blow a trumpet later on, he can well afford to. But it is quite another matter to take a boy away from a healthy, sound work and bring him up to playing instruments and making music. He has no sense yet and would probably come to me and say what you have just told me, that he wants to make music his career. No sir, Vinzenz Lesa’s son is not going to be a travelling musician.”

“All musicians do not necessarily have to be vagabonds,” was Mr. Delrick’s quick reply. “There are many musicians with glorious gifts who do their work quite differently.”

“Yes, and they all come to one’s house,” continued the excited father, “many hundreds of them. They all make music. The father plays on a broken fiddle and a woman in rags sings with a shrill voice. That’s the end of all of them! If you had an only son, sir, would you let him become such a one?”

“Surely not one like that,” replied Mr. Delrick. “But if I should happen to have a son with great gifts as a composer, nothing would prevent me from furthering his wishes.”

“My boy has not got great gifts,” said the father obstinately, “because such great gifts don’t happen often. Will you believe me when I say that as soon as Vinzi comes to reason, he’ll be glad and grateful that he can live on a beautiful farm and doesn’t have to wander about the world as a musician?”

Mr. Delrick had to admit to himself that he really did not know how much talent Vinzi had. All he knew was the boy’s great longing. He also felt that Mr. Lesa’s opinion about a musician’s miserable life could not possibly be changed. He had puzzled how he could be certain on that point. How otherwise would he have the right to fight the father’s great disinclination? Maybe he should rather support the father’s opinion and help to bring his son to the right path.

“Mr. Lesa,” he said, rising and giving his hand to his host, “don’t let us talk about it any more today, for we don’t seem to come to an understanding, but I mean to take it up again and I hope we shall fully agree with each other then. We have always gotten along so well till now.”

“So we have,” replied Vinzenz Lesa, shaking the proffered hand. “Whenever we don’t agree, I always know that you mean well.”

Mr. Delrick now made ready to go. On the next day, the last before his departure, the whole house was as still and quiet as if a misfortune were impending. To the unhappy thoughts of the inmates was added the grief that the friend who had always been their comfort was to leave them. Stefeli had expected everything to be joyful again as soon as Vinzi returned. Just the opposite had happened, and now the only one who could have helped them was going away.

On the last evening Mr. Delrick told the mother of his conversation with Mr. Lesa and comforted her by the assurance that he had not given up the hope of finding a way out for Vinzi. But she had given up and saw only grief ahead for them all. Even if her husband would give way to the persuasions of Mr. Delrick, he would never be reconciled to the matter and a breach would remain between them. Only one person could have prevented that, and he was the one who had to go.

Vinzi felt that if he could talk sometimes with Mr. Delrick he might regain his joy and confidence. His heart was therefore very heavy at his friend’s departure. Mr. Lesa had the full conviction that his wife and son did not understand what was necessary for Vinzi’s good. The only person who would probably comprehend it at last and would then bring the others round was departing. Mr. Delrick in spite of speaking a kindly word to one and an encouraging one to the other was unable to lift their spirits.

In the evening when he had withdrawn to his room, some one knocked on his door and Vinzi entered, carrying two little books and a small package. He asked timidly if Mr. Delrick would take these things to his three cousins. The package he had promised to send to Russli before he left. The books were for Jos and Faz, for the boys had told him that they liked to read on winter evenings. As they possessed so few books, they were obliged to read the same ones over and over again. Vinzi also wished to send his best love to everybody in his uncle’s house, as well as to the grandfather and Pater Silvanus. He was anxious to thank them all and let them know how happy he had been with them and how much he wanted ... but here Vinzi could speak no further. Quickly saying good-night he went out.

Mr. Delrick had planned to go back from the Italian lakes to Germany by another route. He hoped to return next summer, at which the whole family rejoiced. Stefeli, however, thought that this was too far off. Early next morning he drove away in the direction of the Simplon.