"Thank you," said the shoemaker; "but our harpsichord is so wretched, and
we have no music."
"No music!" echoed my friend. "How, then, does the fraulein--"
He paused and coloured up, for the girl looked full at him, and he saw that
she was blind.
"I--I entreat your pardon," he stammered; "but I had not perceived before.
Then you play from ear?"
"Entirely."
"And where do you hear the music; since you frequent no concerts?"
"I used to hear a lady practicing near us, when we lived at Bruhl two
years. During the summer evenings her windows were generally open, and I
walked to and fro outside to listen to her."
She seemed shy, so Beethoven said no more, but seated himself quietly
before the piano, and began to play. He had no sooner struck the first
chord than I knew what would follow--how grand he would be that night! And
I was not mistaken. Never, during all the years I knew him, did I hear him
play as he then played to that blind girl and her brother. He was inspired;
and from the instant that his fingers began to wander along the keys, the
very tone of the instrument began to grow sweeter and more equal.
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