I read them, and I play what is possible on the harmonium.
But--it is just as if you were to describe the drawing and colours of a picture to a blind man, buried in this cloister.

I know, blindly, that there are most beautiful things in this world--for those who can hear them." The Chapel-master kept from the previous year the remembrance of a great happiness, and he spoke of it enthusiastically.

He had been chosen by the Cardinal Archbishop to go to Madrid, to be one of a board of examiners for organists.
"That was the best time I ever had in my life, Gabriel.

One evening I listened to Wagner, dressed in the clothes of a friend of mine, a violinist, who plays here in Toledo at the great festivals.

I heard the Walkyria in the pit of the Real Theatre, another night I went to a concert; but the greatest night of all was the one on which I heard the Ninth Symphony of that ugly old fellow, of that deaf, bad-tempered genius who is listening to us." And with one bound the musician rushed to the bust, kissing it with childish humility, just as a child would caress a stern and domineering father.
"You know the Ninth Symphony; true, Gabriel?
And what did you feel as you listened to it?
When I listen to music strange things happen to me.