"We were talking about you，"said Grandmother;"wewere talking about your patience and reward."
"Yes，"said Madam Hof."It did not come in myyouth，but one is always young enough，when one's healthis good，says my Hof.He has the most charming flashesof wit.We were old，fine works，he says，both in onevolume，and with a gilt top.I am so happy with my Hofand my corner by the fireside.A porcelain stove!Therea fire is started in the evening，and it keeps warm allthe next day.It is such a joy.It is as in the ballet ofCirce's island.Do you remember me as Circe?"
"Yes，you were charming!"said Grandmother."But how a person can change!"That was not at allsaid impolitely，and was not so taken.Then came theheadcheese and the tea.
The next morning Peer paid a visit to the mer-chant's.The lady met him，pressed his hand，andasked him to take a seat by her.During their conversa-tion he expressed his great gratitude;he knew that themerchant was his secret benefactor.The lady did notknow it."But it is like my husband，"she said."It isnot worth talking about."
The merchant was almost angry when Peer men-tioned this."You are on the wrong track altogether，"hesaid，as he closed the conversation and walked away.
Felix was a student and was to have a diplomaticcareer.
"My husband calls it madness，"said the lady."Ihave no opinion.Providence takes care of such things."
Felix did not show himself，for he was taking alesson at his fencing master's.
At home Peer told how he had thanked the mer-chant，but that he would not receive this thanks.
"Who told you that he was，what you call him，your benefactor?"asked the singing master.
"My mother and my grandmother did，"answeredPeer.
"Well，then it must be he."
"You know about it?"said Peer.
"I know，but you will not find out from me.Andfrom now on，we shall sing an hour here at home everymorning."
Ⅺ
Once a week there was quartet music.Ears，soul，and thought were filled with the grand musical poems ofBeethoven and Mozart.It had been a long time since Peerhad heard good and well-played music.It was as if a kissof fire traveled down his spine and shot through all hisnerves.His eyes filled with tears.Every musical eveninghere at home was a festive evening to him，which made adeeper impression upon him than any opera at the theater，where something always disturbs one or imperfections arerevealed.Sometimes the words do not come out right;theyare so smoothed dowm in the singing that they are as intelli-gible to a Chinese as to a Greenlander;and sometimes theeffect is weakened by faults in dramatic expression，and bya full voice sinking in places to the power of a music box ordrawling out false tones.Lack of truthfulness in stage set-tings and costumes also is to be observed.All this was ab-sent from the quartet.The music poems rose in all theirgrandeur;costly hangings decorated the walls in the concertroom;here he was in the world of music，which its mastershad created.
One evening，Beethoven's"Pastoral" Symphony wasgiven by a great orchestra in the big public music hall.Itwas the andante movement，"the scene by the brook，"thatparticularly，and with a strange power，stirred and excitedour young friend.It carried him into the living，freshwoods;the lark and the nightingale rejoiced，and thecuckoo sang there.What beauty of nature;what a well-spring of refreshment there was!From this hour he knewwithin himself that it was the picturesque music，in whichnature was reflected and the emotions of human hearts wereset forth，that struck deepest into his soul.Beethoven andHaydn became his favorite composers.
He often spoke with the singing master about this，and with each conversation the two became closer friends.How rich in knowledge this man was，as inexhaustible asMimir's well.Peer listened to him;just as eagerly as hehad to Grandmother's fairy tales and stories as a littleboy，he now listened to those of the world of music，andcame to know what the forest and the sea told，whatsounds in the old giant mounds，what every bird singswith its bill，and what the flower silently exhales in fra-grance.