Vienna Prelude by Bodie Thoene & Brock Thoene

Author:Bodie Thoene & Brock Thoene [Thoene, Bodie & Thoene, Brock]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: www.FamilyAudioLibrary.com
Published: 2009-06-10T05:00:00+00:00

Elisa led Murphy down an uncrowded side street and down steep stone steps into a dimly lit coffeehouse. He heard the music before they entered the room.

She ooked over her shoulder and smiled at him, and for that moment, all the horrible visions he had seen for Vienna vanished. It was easy to understand on such a day how people could pretend that there was nothing else in life but this glorious city and the music . . . Elisa’s music.

A small man in a black turtleneck sweater and wire-rimmed glasses played a guitar at a table near the front of the room. He looked to be about twenty-five. His fingers moved over the frets and strings,creating a sound as complex as an orchestra.

“I wanted you to hear something different today,” Elisa whispered as they moved quietly through the crowded tables, finally finding an empty one in the back of the room. “He studied under Segovia,” she explained. “From Spain, where you have been. He is here for further training. Starving, like all musicians—but at least no one is blowing up his guitar.”

This afternoon Elisa ordered for them. They drank strong, black Turkish coffee while the young guitarist played work by Bach that was originally written for solo violin. Elisa explained that the gifted, hungry Spanish guitarist was one musician she could listen to without mentally dissecting his work. “Other violinists,” she said as the candlelight flickered on her face, “I listen to them play and think about technique or interpretation. You see?”

“Yes. Like reading another writer’s work.”

She nodded, grateful for the simple comparison. “Exactly. But I cannot compare this man’s guitar techniques with mine on the violin. So this is my secret place, Murphy. This is where I come to worship.”

His smile faltered. She had lost him there. Faith was only a distant memory in his own disillusionment and search for meaning in life. “Worship—like in a church? I don’t understand—”

She took his hand. “Just listen, Murphy,” she whispered.

He listened with her, closing his eyes to shut out the coffee cups and the brick walls of the cellar. He recognized “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” He had not known that Bach had written the melody. Wasn’t this a song played at Christmas by bent old ladies in lace collars at little pump organs? The hands of the young Spaniard somehow created a cathedral in this dark meeting place. And Murphy felt his heart lifted with Elisa’s as he listened. He squeezed her hand. “Beautiful,” he said when she opened her eyes. Indeed, it was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Was it because he was hearing it with her?

She softly sang the chorus:

“Jesu, joy of man’s desiring,

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.