But he never was rich, and yet he came here. He was very pale, and had
large and beautiful but sorrowful eyes. He took a violin with him to
Mount Carmel; it was the greatest treasure he had on earth, and he
played the most wonderful things on this violin that ever were heard,
and everybody who heard it said that he was a great musician. In the
winters he suffered very much from the cold and the fogs of England;
so, last summer he saved a little money, and set off with his violin for
Syria, and all last winter he lived in the monastery of Mount Carmel,
among the grave old monks.
There was one little old monk, a very old man, who soon grew very fond
of him; he too had been a musician, but he was now almost childish, and
had forgotten how to play; and the brother monks had taken from him his
old violin, because they said he made such a noise with it. He cried to
part with it, like a child, poor old man!
The young musician had a little chamber in the monastery, which
overlooked the sea; nobody can think what a beautiful view it had. The
sun shone in so warm and pleasant, and a little group of cypresses grew
just below the window.
[Illustration]
The young man often and often stood at the window, and looked out upon
the sea, and down into the cypress-trees, among the thick branches of
which he heard the doves cooing.
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