The German Wagner--did he not himself say that he walked up and down in the avenues, 'trying to catch the harmonies as they floated in the air'?
Come with me--come back to the place you left, and I will see if you, like Wagner, are able to catch a melody flying." He grasped my unresisting arm, and led me, half-frightened, half-curious, into the little chapel, where he bade me seat myself at the organ.
"Do not play a single note," he said, "till you are compelled." And standing beside me, Heliobas laid his hands on my head, then pressed them on my ears, and finally touched my hands, that rested passively on the keyboard.
He then raised his eyes, and uttered the name I had often thought of but never mentioned--the name he had called upon in my dream.
"Azul!" he said, in a low, penetrating voice, "open the gateways of the Air that we may hear the sound of Song!" A soft rushing noise of wind answered his adjuration.

This was followed by a burst of music, transcendently lovely, but unlike any music I had ever heard.

There were sounds of delicate and entrancing tenderness such as no instrument made by human hands could produce; there was singing of clear and tender tone, and of infinite purity such as no human voices could be capable of.

I listened, perplexed, alarmed, yet entranced.

Suddenly I distinguished a melody running through the wonderful air-symphonies--a melody like a flower, fresh and perfect.
Instinctively I touched the organ and began to play it; I found I could produce it note for note.