“He grew up a tall and handsome lad, with clear, dreamy eyes, and hair that continued to glitter like sunlight.  He was happy in the nobleman’s household, for the nobleman and his wife were kind people; like the woodcutter they were childless and came to look upon him as their own child.  He was a quiet youth, and so deeply engrossed in his music and his studies that he seemed to be quite unaware of the outside world and its inhabitants and its doings.  But although he led a retired, studious life, his fame had got abroad and had even reached the Emperor’s ears.

“When Franz was seventeen years old it happened that the Court was in need of an organist.  The Emperor’s curiosity had been aroused by what he had heard of Franz, and one fine day the youth was summoned to Court to play before his Majesty.  This he did with such success that he was appointed organist of the Court on the spot.

“He was sad at leaving the nobleman, but there was nothing to be done.  The Emperor’s wish was law.  He became Court organist and he played the organ in the Imperial chapel during Mass on Sundays.  As before, he spent all his leisure time in composing music.

“Now the Emperor had a daughter called Kunigmunde, who was beautiful and wildly romantic.  She was immediately spellbound by Franz’s music, and he became the lodestar of her dreams.  Often in the afternoon she would steal up to the organ loft, where he was playing alone, and sit for hours listening to his improvisations.  They did not speak to each other much, but ever since Franz had set eyes on her something new had entered into his soul and spoke in his music, something tremulous and strange and wonderful.

“For a year Franz’s life ran placidly and smoothly.  He was made much of, praised and petted; but now, as before, he seemed quite unaware of the outside world and its doings, and he moved in a world of his own, only he was no longer alone in his secret habitation, it was inhabited by another shape, the beautiful dark-haired Princess Kunigmunde, and in her honour he composed songs, minuets, sonatas, hymns, and triumphal marches.  As was only natural, there were not wanting at Court persons who were envious of Franz, his talent, and his good fortune.  And among them there was a musician, a tenor in the Imperial choir, called Albrecht, who hated Franz with his whole heart.  He was a dark-eyed, dark-haired creature, slightly deformed; he limped, and he had a sinister look as though of a satyr.  Nevertheless he was highly gifted and composed music of his own which, although it was not radiant like that of Franz, was full of brilliance and not without a certain compelling power.  Albrecht revolved in his mind how he might ruin Franz.  He tried to excite the envy of the courtiers against him, but Franz was such a modest fellow, so kindly and good-natured, that it was not easy to make people dislike him.  Nevertheless there were many who were tired of hearing him praised, and many who were secretly tired of the perpetual beauty and radiance of Franz’s music, and wished for something new even though it should be ugly.