lerius, Daae
consented to give the young viscount some violin lessons. In this way,
Raoul learned to love the same airs that had charmed Christine's
childhood. They also both had the same calm and dreamy little cast of
mind. They delighted in stories, in old Breton legends; and their
favorite sport was to go and ask for them at the cottage-doors, like
beggars:

"Ma'am ..." or, "Kind gentleman ... have you a little story to tell us,
please?"

And it seldom happened that they did not have one "given" them; for
nearly every old Breton grandame has, at least once in her life, seen
the "korrigans" dance by moonlight on the heather.

But their great treat was, in the twilight, in the great silence of the
evening, after the sun had set in the sea, when Daae came and sat down
by them on the roadside and, in a low voice, as though fearing lest he
should frighten the ghosts whom he evoked, told them the legends of the
land of the North. And, the moment he stopped, the children would ask
for more.

There was one story that began:

"A king sat in a little boat on one of those deep, still lakes that
open like a bright eye in the midst of the Norwegian mountains ..."

And another:

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden
as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She
wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock
and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when
she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music."

While the old man told this story, Raoul looked at Christine's blue
eyes and golden hair; and Christine thought that Lotte was very lucky
to hear the Angel of Music when she went to sleep. The Angel of Music
played a part in all Daddy Daae's tales; and he maintained that every
great musician, every great artist received a visit from the Angel at
least once in his life. Sometimes the Angel leans over their cradle,
as happened to Lotte, and that is how there are little prodigies who
play the fiddle at six better than men at fifty, which, you must admit,
is very wonderful. Sometimes, the Angel comes much later, because the
children are naughty and won't learn their lessons or practise their
scales. And, sometimes, he does not come at all, because the children
have a bad heart or a bad conscience.

No one ever sees the Angel; but he is heard by those who are meant to
hear him. He often comes when they least expect him,