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283 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1950
One windy afternoon many years ago, a man and three boys sat up in this tower listening to the capriciously varying sounds of an Aeolian harp…
They sat staring from the belfry lights out into a windswept space where huge solitary clouds scudded past with an observant mien, as though they, too, were listening to the distant music. The three brothers never forgot this wonderful afternoon in later days, and as a grown man Sirius gave it a lasting memorial in his poem “And cherubim passed by”.
Kornelius was pale and sweating with emotion, sitting there with his projecting lower lip and his wispy hair hanging down over his glasses. Sirius sat with his head on one side, fondly stroking his violin. He was actually only a moderately good violinist and often the object of irritated remarks on the part of the other musicians.
But Moritz, the leader, sat bolt upright, and the notes emerged from his instrument like happy glimpses of sunshine.
The desperate violins of loneliness play, moving and heartrending, and the void’s dull cello pizzicato thumps as in a fever. You are tormented by nightmares and fearful dreams. At times, you are overcome by icy terror.
