One day in the year formed an exception to all the rest.

It was Marie's birthday.

From her earliest childhood this one day had been entirely her own.

On this day she addressed Ludwig with the familiar "thou," as she had been wont to do when he had taught her to walk.

She always looked forward with great pleasure to this day, and made for it all sorts of plans whose accomplishment was extremely problematic.
And who came to congratulate her on her birthday?
First of all, the solitary sparrow, whose name was David--surely because he, too, was a tireless singer! Already at early dawn, when the first faint rosy hues of morning glimmered through the jalousie, he would fly to the head of her bed.