That’s merely flimsy idealism.” He understood her, he understood what she said. But his emotions were unable to follow her—he could not comprehend why melodies that cheered him up or moved him were cheap and worthless, or why music that seemed harsh or chaotic should be of the highest musical value. He stood before a temple, and Gerda stood at the threshold adamantly barring his way. And then he watched in pain as she disappeared inside with his child.
